I Used to Do Everything Right

A woman on a tennis court at golden hour, holding a jar of DIGEST to her cheek

Years before I lived by 80/20, I lived by 100.

I was doing everything right.

I moved every day. I ate clean. I drank my water. I hit my protein. If you had given me a checklist for being healthy, I would have ticked every box.

And I didn't feel good.

I was bloated most days. Puffy in the morning, heavy after lunch, and by the evening my stomach felt like it belonged to someone else. My energy went up and down for no reason I could find. My skin wasn't happy. I felt like my body was working against me, and I didn't understand why, because I was doing everything.

The problem must be me

When you do everything right and it doesn't work, there's only one explanation left, or at least it feels that way. The problem is you.

So you do more. You train harder. You eat less. You cut another food. You buy another thing someone swore by. And when that doesn't work either, you start telling yourself this is just how it is. Some people feel light. You're not one of them.

I believed that for longer than I'd like to admit.

What I didn't see was that all my effort was going into one side of the equation. I was completely focused on what I put in: the food, the water, the protein, the workouts. I wasn't paying any attention to what my body was doing with it.

A hand lifting a jar of DIGEST out of a blue drawstring bag

The part nobody puts on the checklist

We talk about nutrition as if it ends when the food goes in your mouth. It doesn't. That's where it starts.

Between eating a meal and feeling good afterwards, there's a whole process. Your body has to break the food down, take what it needs, and move the rest along. That process has its own rhythm, and it responds to much more than what's on your plate.

It responds to how fast you eat. Food eaten in five minutes at a desk is a different job for your body than the same food eaten slowly at a table.

It responds to when you eat. A big dinner at ten at night, after skipping lunch, asks your body to do its hardest work when it's trying to wind down.

It responds to how much you change at once. I went from eating very little fibre to eating a huge amount, almost overnight, because that's what "clean" looked like. My body needed time to catch up, and I didn't give it any.

It responds to stress. Your body doesn't digest well when it thinks it's in a hurry, and I was always in a hurry.

None of this was on my checklist. All of it mattered.

A jar of DIGEST with lemon balm, dandelion, pineapple and ginger at sunset

What changed

I didn't find one magic thing. I stopped guessing, and I started paying attention.

I kept notes for a couple of weeks. What I ate, when, how quickly, and how I felt two hours later. It was boring. It was also the first time I had real information about my own body instead of someone else's rules.

Patterns showed up quickly. The protein bars I relied on had sweeteners that didn't agree with me. My worst evenings came after my most rushed days. The huge salads I thought were the healthiest thing I ate were too much, too fast, too late.

So I made small changes. None of them were new rules. They were just me listening to what the notes were telling me.

I changed my mornings. I used to start the day with a proper breakfast because that's what I'd been told to do: eggs, toast, yoghurt, something with protein. Most mornings I wasn't even hungry yet. So I swapped it for a green juice and a bowl of fruit. It was lighter, it was easy, and I didn't start the day already feeling full. By lunch I was actually hungry, which I realised hadn't happened in a long time.

I stopped eating all day long. I was a grazer. A handful of nuts here, a protein bar there, something at my desk every hour because I thought keeping my "metabolism going" was the goal. My stomach never had a moment where it wasn't dealing with something. So I started leaving proper breaks between meals, three or four hours with nothing but water or tea. At first it felt strange. After a week it felt like my body could finally breathe.

I ate earlier, and I sat down. Dinner moved from ten at night to seven. And I ate it at a table, not on the sofa or standing at the kitchen counter replying to messages. That sounds too simple to matter. It mattered.

I slowed down. I put my fork down between bites. I actually chewed. A meal that used to take me five minutes started taking twenty, and I left the table satisfied instead of stuffed.

I walked. Nothing serious. Ten or fifteen minutes after lunch, and again after dinner when I could. Around the block, to the corner shop, on the phone with a friend. It wasn't exercise. It was just not going straight from the plate to the chair.

Nothing dramatic happened in a week. But over time, the heaviness came less often. My evenings felt lighter. My energy stopped jumping around. My body started feeling like mine again.

Two women smiling against a green wall, one holding a jar of DIGEST

Where 80/20 came from

This is the part I didn't expect.

Once I understood how my body actually worked, I didn't need the perfect checklist anymore. I knew which things really mattered for me and which ones I'd been doing out of fear. The things that mattered, I kept. Everything else became optional.

That's where my 80/20 comes from. Most of the time, I look after the basics: I eat slowly, eat earlier, and pay attention to how I feel. The rest of the time, I eat the pastry, stay out late, and have the second glass of wine. When it's a big meal, I take digestive enzymes with it. And I don't feel guilty about any of it. I know my body well enough now that one evening doesn't undo anything.

The freedom didn't come from trying harder. It came from understanding.

You're not failing

This is the part I most want you to hear.

If you're doing everything right and you still feel off, it doesn't mean you're failing. It might mean you've been giving your body the right things without giving it the right conditions to deal with them.

Your body isn't against you. Most of the time, the bloating and the heaviness and the tiredness are information. They're telling you something about how the day is going for your digestion.

The hard part is that we've been taught to push through those signals, not listen to them. More effort, more discipline, more rules. But the answer usually isn't doing more. It's noticing more, and then you can relax about the rest.

So if this sounds like you, try this for two weeks. Keep the checklist. Just add one question to it:

Not only "what did I eat?", but "how did I eat it, and how did I feel after?"

You might be surprised by what your body has been trying to tell you.


Squeaky Clean is editorial and isn't medical advice. If something in your body has changed and isn't settling, or you have pain, blood, or weight loss you didn't plan, talk to a doctor.

I co-founded Samsa, which makes a digestive enzyme supplement. Weigh everything above accordingly.


Originally published on Squeaky Clean.

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