Some of y’all are out here eating like your gut owes you money. You’re downing neon-colored snacks, chugging “zero-calorie” sodas like they’re holy water, and calling it self-care?
Sis, that ain’t wellness, that’s war. And guess who’s losing? You. Your hormones. Your brain cells. And yeah, your poor, overworked liver, screaming into the void like it’s stuck in a toxic relationship it can’t escape.
The Food’s Not the Enemy, But the Labels Might Be
You ever read the back of a granola bar and feel like you’re decoding ancient runes? Maltodextrin, carrageenan, natural flavors (whatever the hell that means).
It’s like a bad Tinder date—looks clean, talks sweet, then turns out to be full of hidden baggage and synthetic chaos. And before you know it, your skin’s breaking out, your sleep’s trash, and you’re weeping to Frank Ocean in the shower like it’s sophomore year again.
No, it’s not “just stress.” It’s sabotage on a plate dressed up like a balanced meal.
That “Healthy” Yogurt? It’s Gaslighting You
You think you’re doing your gut a favor with that creamy probiotic parfait? Think again. Most store-bought yogurts have more sugar than a glazed donut on its period. And don’t even start with the ones labeled “light” or “fit”—translation: artificially sweetened chemical cocktails that confuse the hell out of your metabolism.
It’s like dating a guy who calls you “queen” but won’t even share his location. Looks good, feels flattering, but underneath it’s all lies and bloating.
You Crave Chips, But Your Body’s Screaming for Magnesium
Those late-night cravings? They’re not random. They’re not weakness. They’re your body’s busted way of begging for help. When you keep feeding it beige food with the nutritional value of cardboard, it starts reaching for salt, sugar, and chaos like a broke ex looking for attention.
And yeah, you might think that extra cheesy snack gives you life—but that’s a chemical dopamine spike. Not joy. The same way texting your toxic ex at 2 AM feels like closure… until it doesn’t.
“What you eat either fuels your power or feeds your pain. Choose like your sanity depends on it—because it does.”
The Red Flag That Wears a Halo
Don’t be fooled by labels screaming “high protein” or “keto-friendly.” If the ingredient list reads like a sci-fi script, it’s not fuel—it’s a filler episode. Highly-processed food might be convenient, but so is ghosting, and we know how that ends.
The worst part? These Frankenfoods don’t just mess with your waistline—they hijack your brain. You stop being hungry for real nourishment and start craving that manufactured hit of pleasure. That ain’t hunger—it’s addiction wearing yoga pants.
Eat Like You Give a Damn About Tomorrow
Let’s not pretend it’s easy. You’re busy, you’re broke, and no one wants to spend thirty minutes massaging kale when there’s fried rice three blocks away.
But the cold, hard truth? Your body is your longest relationship. You trash it now, and trust—it will ghost you later, arthritis first, brain fog second, and eventually with a full-blown nervous breakdown wearing a cute sundress.
So yeah, eat that fatty salmon. Load up on fermented stuff that smells like feet but keeps your gut dancing. Snack on nuts like you’re storing for winter. And for the love of all that is holy, drink some damn water.
Because no diet is worth your soul. And no snack is worth crying in the shower at 3 AM, wondering why your skin’s dull, your energy’s gone, and your mood swings are playing ping-pong with your serotonin.
“You don’t need a six-pack, you need peace. And peace doesn’t live in a bag of cheese puffs.”
This isn’t about shame. It’s about choosing not to let your next meal be the reason your nervous system files for emotional bankruptcy.
You don’t need to be perfect. Just conscious. Just honest. Because the truth is—every bite is a vote. For clarity or confusion. For energy or exhaustion. For love or self-neglect.
So, eat this, not that—unless you’re into chaotic mornings, breakouts that ghost your self-esteem, and sobbing into your loofah like a tragic TikTok montage.
Your body’s not asking for a miracle. Just a little less betrayal and a little more damn respect.
