There’s something almost performative about “healthy eating” these days. You know what I mean. Someone orders a salad and suddenly they’re the wellness guru at the table. But what if that salad is drenched in processed dressing and they’re secretly living off energy drinks and protein bars?
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because I realized I spent years fooling everyone, including myself. People thought I was healthy because I skipped meat and desserts. The truth? I was terrified of gaining weight and survived on candy and processed snacks that happened to fit my calorie budget. That’s not health. That’s just another form of restriction wearing a wellness mask.
The Mental Load of Actually Eating Well
Now that I’m older and have kids watching my every move, things hit different. You start thinking about longevity differently when tiny humans need you to stick around. I want to make it to 100, honestly. But more than that, I want to have the energy to show up fully for the people I love.
The problem is that healthy eating has become this incredibly exhausting project. Every week there’s a new study contradicting last month’s advice. Seed oils are poison, or they’re fine actually. Carbs will kill you, or maybe it’s just refined carbs. Or all carbs? Wait, no, your brain needs glucose.
And then there’s the practical side. Finding time to cook when you’re already stretched thin. Resisting the siren call of DoorDash after a brutal day. Learning actual cooking skills beyond your rotation of five tired recipes. It’s a lot.
When Convenience Becomes the Enemy
Here’s what nobody talks about enough: our modern lifestyle has made convenience the default setting. We’ve built entire industries around not having to think about food. Just tap a button and someone brings you dinner. It’s efficient in the moment but it slowly chips away at your relationship with actual nourishment.
I catch myself fantasizing about some mythical future where I’ll finally have time to learn proper cooking. Like there’s going to be this magical window where life calms down and I can attend cooking classes and meal prep like those people on Instagram. But that’s probably never coming, right? Life doesn’t typically get less busy as you age.
The gut health angle is particularly interesting to me because it connects to so many other things we struggle with. Your digestion affects your immunity, your mood, your energy levels, even how clearly you can think. It’s wild how interconnected everything is. You think you’re just tired or anxious, but sometimes your gut is screaming for better fuel and you’re not listening.
The Recipe Trap
One thing that resonates is this idea of cooking without recipes. I’ve noticed that recipes can actually be a crutch that keeps you dependent. You need the exact ingredients in the exact amounts or you panic. But real cooking, the kind that becomes sustainable, is more intuitive. It’s about understanding flavors and techniques rather than following instructions like you’re assembling IKEA furniture.
There’s a freedom in being able to look at whatever vegetables are dying in your fridge and turning them into something edible without consulting the internet. That’s when cooking stops being a chore and starts being a practical skill you actually own.
But getting to that point requires learning and practice, which brings us back to the time problem. Most of us are trying to change our health habits while simultaneously working, parenting, managing relationships, and keeping our heads above water. Adding “learn to cook intuitively” to that list feels impossible.
Making It Actually Doable
The part about tiny habits makes sense though. You can’t overhaul your entire life overnight. You need systems that work even when you’re exhausted, stressed, or just having a terrible day. Because those days will come. A lot.
Twenty minutes a week is manageable. Most of us waste that much time scrolling social media before we even get out of bed. If you could redirect that into learning something practical that affects your daily wellbeing, that’s probably worth it.
I’m skeptical of most programs that promise transformation, but the specific focus on making healthy eating simple rather than complicated feels different. We don’t need more complexity. We need less. We need to strip away the noise and just learn the basics that actually matter.
The testimonial about cooking freedom really captures something important. Most people don’t hate cooking because they hate food. They hate the pressure, the planning, the decision fatigue, the feeling of failing when it doesn’t turn out right. Remove those barriers and suddenly it becomes something you might actually enjoy.
Whether this particular program is the answer or not, the underlying question remains: how do we make nourishing ourselves a natural part of life rather than another item on an endless to-do list that makes us feel inadequate when we can’t keep up?
