A BITE HEALTH OF HEALTHY NUTRITION

There’s this quiet tug of war that plays out when you’re trying to live healthy. On one side, there’s the food that feels good, that actually tastes like something your body recognises. On the other side, there’s that weird social static, the pause when someone sees you eating a salad and suddenly you’re that person again, and it gets exhausting, especially when you’re not trying to make a statement, you’re just hungry.

I used to be rigid, with no sugar, no processed anything, workouts six days a week. From the outside it looked like discipline, but inside, I was mentally frayed, it was the kind of clean eating that stripped joy out of my meals. Now I let it be messy, and I eat daikon bowls with creamy cashew sauce because the crunch is addictive, not because they’re low cal or because some wellness influencer said I should.

There’s leftover kale pesto in the fridge, and I slap it on lemony spaghetti squash not for aesthetics but because it tastes good and I can’t be bothered reinventing dinner on a Tuesday. I use broccoli stems because binning them feels gross, and no, I don’t always post these things, because sometimes I worry it makes me look performative, like I’m angling for a badge.

But I’m tired of pretending that enjoying healthy food makes me obsessive, or that salad has to mean struggle. It doesn’t. It means I know what my gut likes, and I like roasted delicata squash on massaged kale, I like Heidi’s spicy green soup when I’m half functioning and need something green without chopping three different herbs. Sometimes I skip workouts, and I don’t label it as anything, I just move on because not everything needs a tag.

And maybe that’s what balance looks like, chickpea stew cobbled from fridge leftovers, rainbow bowls eaten because they’re colourful and my kid thinks purple cabbage is magic. This isn’t a transformation story. It’s just the current middle, a bit wonky, a bit wholesome, no reset buttons or redemption arcs, just me quietly eating broccoli stems and slowly getting over the noise.

When looking into the newest diet trends, we are bonbarded with influencers claiming that their diet has helped them overcome their wieght struggles and achieve what the most of portray as enlightenment.

Leading the learner, to overload their brain and develop analysis of the paralysis as they try and make the perfect pick for their diet.

All of these diets, invoke succeess stories, which led me to think that nuance in the diet itself whether being carnivore, paleo or vegetarian all share the same attribute being the removal of processed foods and artificial creations which have empeded in our diets with the rise of large corporations mass producing their carb and fat concoction (almond croissants are my downfall) leading the consumer to keep coming back for more, as attributed to the addictive properties.

Humans are constantly looking for a narrative to grapple onto to help them feel a little more in control of this very complex world. But this tendency, can lead us to miss the main point.

A rule which I have created to help me establish the effeciveness of a diet plan, is the more aligned the food variety is with our ancestors, the more likely you will achieve your goals coming from the diet in the first place

Now obviosuly, the level of consumption plays a role, but as a general rule, this has served me well.

Forgive my rant.

I used to track everything—like, everything. Macros, micros, water intake, how many almonds I ate while standing at the pantry door pretending I wasn’t snacking. I had a spreadsheet that told me exactly what I “should” be eating. I thought control meant health. And that health meant eating like some clean-eating Pinterest goddess with perfect lighting and zero digestive issues.

Spoiler: it didn’t end well.

Somewhere between the anxiety, the 3pm crashes, and the guilt of eating a slice of banana bread that had actual sugar in it, I cracked. That moment led me to rethink my approach to gut health.

That night was weirdly pivotal. It was the beginning of me unlearning what I thought health had to look like. Now? Most days I aim for one solid meal, one chaotic one, and one that involves leftovers I don’t even heat up properly. And I feel better. Freer. Less like I’m being chased by an invisible food police.

Giving up on “perfect” eating didn’t mean giving up on health. It meant finally making space for it. Because real health—at least for me—means eating in a way that supports my life, not controls it. It’s knowing that some days I’ll roast veggies and others I’ll eat my kid’s crusts while standing at the sink.

This shift didn’t happen overnight. But it started with one honest question: Is this making me feel better, or just more in control? That question still guides me now, especially when I feel myself slipping back into old habits (like Googling if coconut yoghurt counts as a probiotic or just fancy pudding).

If any of this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. And you’re definitely not failing. You’re just a human being trying to feed yourself in a world obsessed with kale and guilt.

No meal plan required.