Moderation Isn’t a Plan (It’s a Vibe)
Why the “just eat in moderation” advice is about as useful as telling someone to “just be chill” during a panic attack.
When I first became a dietitian—bright-eyed, freshly credentialed and still under the delusion that meal plans were magic—I did what most well-meaning professionals do: I handed people The Plan. It had rules. It had calorie ceilings. It had charming lists of things to cut out, like carbs, joy and the will to live.
And, to be fair, it worked. For about five minutes.
People would lose weight, feel smug, maybe even post about it on Instagram with a #newme. But then—surprise!—they’d fall face-first into a family-size bag of chips and come back to me, head hanging lower than their blood sugar after keto.
That’s when I had the uncomfortable epiphany:
I wasn’t fixing anything. I was just helping people delay the inevitable collapse of unsustainable plans.
I had become a glorified tour guide through the Land of Temporary Results.
So, I took a long, hard look at my methods (and, let’s be honest, my life choices) and asked myself:
What now?
I wanted people to enjoy food, not fear it. I wanted them to feel empowered, not punished. So I flirted with a seductive little concept that seemed to straddle both worlds: moderation.
Cue the warm glow of balance, the promise of sanity.
Eat what you love... just not too much.
Move your body... just not obsessively.
Live your life... but, you know, be sensible about it.
Sounds dreamy, doesn’t it? Like sipping a glass of red wine in a perfectly lit kitchen while sautéing kale and chatting about gut health.
Except… moderation isn’t a plan. It’s a Pinterest board.
The Problem With Moderation (Other Than It’s Useless)
Let’s get one thing clear: I wanted to believe in moderation. I still want to believe in moderation. But here’s the thing—moderation is not a strategy. It’s a vague idea that gives you absolutely no clear instructions.
When someone tells you to “just eat in moderation,” what they’re really saying is:
“I don’t have an actual plan for you, but I’m going to pretend I do so I can sound helpful while giving you full responsibility for figuring it out.”
Moderation is squishy. It’s vague. It’s as subjective as art and as useless as a chocolate teapot when it comes to behavioural change.
Here’s what moderation looks like in the real world:
“I’ll just have one Tim Tam...” (proceeds to eat the packet, because what even is moderation?)
“I’ll only scroll for 10 minutes…” (3 hours later, you’re googling “does sloth mating involve screaming?”)
“I’ll only have one glass of wine.” (glass the size of a small bucket)
Moderation is a moving target and that target is set by your current baseline. And guess what? That baseline has been sneakily inflated by a culture that thinks a smoothie bowl with 47 toppings and 3 tablespoons of peanut butter is “clean eating.”
Why Your Brain Hates Moderation
From a neuroscience perspective, moderation is a cognitive black hole. Your brain loves clarity, not waffly, ambiguous concepts like “don’t have too much.” That’s like giving a toddler a plate of cake and saying, “Just a polite amount, darling.”
Guess what happens next?
Research shows that specific, actionable goals are what drive change. “Eat less sugar” means nothing. “Take a banana to work so I don’t face-plant into the staffroom biscuits” is something your brain can latch onto.
Because, newsflash:
Your brain doesn’t respond to poetry. It responds to plans.
Moderation is Relative—and That’s the Problem
Let’s say you’ve grown up in a culture where the average Aussie eats 16 teaspoons of added sugar a day. If you cut that down to 8, it might feel moderate. But it’s still more than your body needs and way more than it wants.
Same goes for vegetables. If you’re currently eating one sad, neglected floret of broccoli twice a week, then doubling that might feel heroic—but it's still nowhere near the recommended five serves a day. You’re comparing yourself to the wrong damn yardstick.
Moderation, in this context, becomes a delusion.
It’s like being the tallest hobbit in the Shire and thinking you’re ready for the NBA.
So What Is a Real Strategy?
I’m not against small changes. I’m against vague ones.
Instead of “eat in moderation,” try something that actually holds water:
“I’ll add one vegie to my lunch every day.”
“I’ll walk for 15 minutes after work before I enter the kitchen.”
“I’ll drink one glass of water before I touch my morning coffee because I’m a grown-up and my kidneys deserve love.”
These are clear. They’re measurable. They’re the grown-up version of moderation—aka intentional habits that your brain can’t weasel out of.
Turning Vibes Into a Plan
Next time you hear yourself mumble, “I just need to eat in moderation,”
I want you to stop, breathe and interrogate it like a well seasoned detective:
Moderation of what?
Compared to what?
When exactly will this moderate thing happen?
How will I know if I’ve done it?
And will I care tomorrow if I haven’t?
If you can’t answer those questions, your “moderation” isn’t a plan—it’s a polite delay tactic wrapped in hopeful denial.
So write it down. Put it in your calendar.
Make it boring. Make it repeatable. Make it so simple that even Future You (yes, the tired one in her pyjamas) can do it without needing to channel Gwyneth Paltrow’s inner wellness coach.
Final Thoughts
Moderation is like trying to assemble IKEA furniture with vibes instead of an Allen key.
You don’t need perfection. You need clarity.
You need repetition.
You need a plan that fits into real life—not some idealised version of a woman who meal preps quinoa on Sundays and owns colour-coded activewear drawers.
You want sustainable change?
Stop trying to “moderate.”
Start trying to actually know what the hell you're doing—one specific, doable, human-sized habit at a time.