The truth about diets

(or: How to Waste Decades and Still End Up Hungry)

Dieting sounds like a reasonable idea.

Like flossing. Or reverse parking. Or pretending you read the Terms & Conditions.

You sign up, follow the rules, buy the book, avoid the bread, track your macros and eat your feelings (except now they taste like almond flour and despair).

And at first? Sure. You lose a few kilos. You feel a bit smug. Maybe even lighter—though mostly just in the wallet.

Fast forward ten, twenty, maybe forty years down the line…

You’ve done keto. Paleo. Clean eating. Intermittent fasting. 5:2. Whole30. Maybe even that one where you only eat cabbage and question your will to live.

You’ve tried the shakes, the points, the sins, the charts, the apps.

You’ve followed every rule they gave you like a good little dieter.

And yet—plot twist—you’re now at your heaviest.

Cue: existential eyebrow raise.

Now, at this point, a rational person might think:
“Hang on… is it possible that this dieting thing is a colossal con? A well-marketed illusion designed to keep me stuck in a cycle of shame, hunger and rice cakes?”

But no. That would make too much sense.

Instead, what do most people do?

They blame themselves.

“Oh, the diet worked—I just didn’t.”

“If I were only more disciplined, more dedicated, more... celery.”

We internalise the failure like it’s a personality trait.

As if you, a functioning adult woman who can hold down a job, raise children, pay taxes, reverse-park and remember everyone’s birthdays, suddenly become incapable of managing a fork and a fridge.

Here’s the kicker: diets are designed to fail.

Not because you’re broken. But because you’re human.

And diets? Diets are anti-human.

They don’t work with you. They work against you.

They don’t invite you into a respectful conversation with your body—they hand you a bloody megaphone and scream, “You’re not allowed to be hungry!”

They tell you what to eat, when to eat, how much to eat.

And let’s be honest: who gets told what to eat?

Children.

Children who still believe in the tooth fairy and need help wiping their noses.

But you? You’re a grown-ass woman.

You’ve survived 3am teething, Monday meetings and the absolute madness of trying to open plastic packaging without scissors.

You know what to eat.

That’s not the problem.

The problem is:
Why do you eat the way you do?
When do you feel pulled toward the fridge?
What are you really craving—when it’s not just food?

Because newsflash: it’s rarely about the bloody muffin.

It might be about comfort.
Or stress.
Or boredom.
Or resentment.
Or the chaos of a day that never gave you five minutes to be.

Sometimes it’s one reason.
Sometimes it’s a thousand.
All tangled together like fairy lights in a drawer you’ve been avoiding since December.

But here's the twist:
Once you discover why you eat the way you do—and actually resolve that—everything starts to shift.

No restriction.
No guilt.
No need to outwit your biology with an app and a side salad.

Just clarity.

And once the internal driver—the emotional tug-of-war that drags you to the fridge at 9pm—is sorted?

The overeating often just stops.

Not because you’re forcing it.
But because you don’t need it anymore.

That’s the bit no diet tells you.
Because it’s not in their interest to help you not need them.

So, if you’re done slapping on another meal-plan band-aid...
If you're ready to stop treating a broken pipe with a mop and a smile...
And if you're brave enough to get curious instead of controlling—

Then get in touch.

Seriously. I’d bloody love to help.