Don’t Change What You Eat. Change How You THINK!

(Or: Your Mind Is the Real Boss of Your Fork)

Ladies, gentlemen and sentient snacks—

Let’s kick this off with a scandalous truth bomb:

There’s not a whole lot of difference between someone who loses weight and someone who doesn’t.

Gasp!

Yes, yes, I know. That’s not what the fitness industry wants you to believe.
They’d prefer you to think it’s about willpower, macro-counting, 4am bootcamps and colon cleanses involving Himalayan salt and regret.

But no. It’s not the food.
It’s not your metabolism.
It’s not your star sign, your rising sign or the alignment of your fridge magnets.

It’s your bloody thoughts.

Exhibit A: Two Humans, One Slice of Cake

Both overeat.

Let me repeat: both overeat.
Because they're human.
Because food is delicious.
Because stress exists and sometimes we just want a serotonin hit that doesn’t involve yoga pants and a gratitude journal.

But here’s where the split happens:

Person A finishes the cake and goes,

“Ew. I feel a bit gross. Next time I’ll stop at one piece.”

Person B goes,

“Ah, f* it. I’ve eaten half the cake, might as well lick the plate, eat the tin and see if there’s another cake hiding behind the yoghurt.”

Same event. Different thought. Wildly different outcome.

Exhibit B: The Scale of Doom

Both get on the scales.
The number hasn’t moved. Not even a whisper. Not a flicker.

Person A:

“Meh. I know if I keep showing up, this’ll shift.”

Person B:

“THIS IS HOPELESS. I AM BROKEN. NOTHING WORKS. BRING ME BREAD.”

Again. Same data. Different drama.

Exhibit C: Life Sucks and Then You Snack

Life goes haywire. The printer jams. The toddler screams. The car battery dies. Mercury retrogrades all over your morning.

Person A says:

“I need an early night and some water. I’m fried.”

Person B says:

“I need chocolate. A lot of it. And some chips. And maybe wine. And Netflix until I pass out.”

Both had a crap day.
Only one turned it into a Netflix-sponsored sugar coma.

The Real Difference?

It’s not discipline.
It’s not some magical hormone cocktail reserved for shiny Instagram people.
It’s not even about motivation (which is as reliable as a politician in an election year).

👉 It’s how they talk to themselves.

Because your thoughts → create your feelings → which drive your actions.

That’s it. That’s the code.
That’s the Matrix.

You’re not failing because of your food.
You’re struggling because your inner voice is a melodramatic, catastrophising little gremlin with a flair for self-sabotage.

So Here’s the Question:

If you said to yourself:

“We’re figuring this out.”
“This wasn’t perfect, but it’s not over.”
“Let’s try something different next time.”
“I’m in this for the long haul.”

Would you ever quit?

No, you bloody well wouldn’t.
Because who quits when they believe success is inevitable?

You’d fall. Trip. Stumble. Laugh. Course-correct.
But you’d keep. Bloody. Going.

And that’s how people get results.
Not from perfection — but from persistence powered by better thoughts.

The Magic No One’s Selling You

People want to sell you meal plans and 6-week shreds and detoxes that basically just remove joy from your bloodstream.

But I’m here to sell you this radical, revolutionary idea:

You can change the way you think.

And when you do, everything else changes.

The fridge doesn't need to be a battleground.
The scale doesn’t get to dictate your mood.
And one bite of cake doesn’t lead to a three-day shame spiral.

Nothing Has Gone Wrong

You’re not lazy, hopeless or genetically doomed to live life in stretchy pants.

You’re just operating on default thoughts that were programmed by diets, culture, Instagram filters and your Aunt Joan’s “you’ve got your fat cousin’s genes” comments.

Change the thought, change the outcome.

So stop obsessing over the contents of your plate and start listening to the contents of your mind.

If what you hear is unhelpful, unkind or just plain dramatic?

Good news: you can change it.

🎹 Cue the music, raise the eyebrows and exit stage left holding your own damn power.

And if you want help doing that?
You know where to find me.

(And I won’t make you eat kale. Promise.)