How MyFitnessPal Ruined My Relationship With Food

TW: calories, disordered eating, body dysmorphia.

I started as a casual gym-goer.

I experimented with weights, finished with cardio. Within a month, I bought my first bag of protein powder. At this stage, I decided to read up on how to maximise my gym performance. During my research, all the articles I read and videos I watched emphasised how the right diet was vital to advance in the gym. There were numerous recommendations for MyFitnessPal, an app that tracks diet and exercise. I downloaded it, keen to understand my food intake better.

I followed the recommended calorie and macro breakdown, allowing the app to detail the grams of carbohydrates, protein and fat I could eat in a day. At first, I found this enjoyable. I liked being creative when reaching my macros with different meals. I bought a scale for my food so I could track accurately, and a scale for my self so I could excitedly watch my numerical progress. As I learned what recipes worked, I would add them to my roster. If I overconsumed my calories or ate something without clear macros, I would simply get back on track the next day.

At this stage in my tracking, my general goal was to lose a bit of fat and gain a bit of muscle. But over time, the importance of calories and macros became warped in my mind. Calculating them every time I ate something, I found myself fretting over the smallest discrepancies. If I missed my protein or overconsumed fat, I was distraught. I was also bombarded with fitness content that constantly implied, or outright dictated that fewer calories, less fat, and fewer carbs were the goal.

I internalised all of this.

Each week, I would lower my calories, convinced that if I just managed to eat several hundred fewer calories and juggle my macro ratios right, I would see the progress I craved. At one point, I was eating the number of calories that a toddler should be consuming, as a fully grown woman who walked 10,000+ steps and lifted weights daily. Gone was my focus on well-rounded meals with nutrient-dense whole foods. Instead, I found myself eating ridiculous half-meals to meet my goals.

Forcing down protein powder mixed with cottage cheese was a low point.

My competitive nature and obsessive personality meant that despite a voice in my head telling me something was off, I couldn’t give up on my in-app goals. It impacted my relationship with my friends, my family, and my partner. I stepped on the scales several times a day, never satisfied with the number I saw. All my mental energy was directed towards my body, my calorie intake, and the constant, gnawing hunger I felt. I missed my periods. I had no energy. I developed body dysmorphia.

Looking back now, I can see I was the leanest I’d ever been. At the same time, I had never been more hateful towards my body.

My broken relationship with food reached a climax after a year of strict tracking as my disordered eating reached new heights. On my lowest day, I realised that if I didn’t intervene now I would continue to spiral and I didn’t want to see what that could look like.

That evening, I deleted all tracking apps from my phone. I skipped the gym and ordered myself a takeaway. I fought the urges to weigh, count, calculate, and instead, I just ate. I unfollowed and unsubscribed from any media that promoted the unwavering desire to be smaller and take up less space. I researched food intake again, this time intending to find a healthy balance.

I discovered the concept of intuitive eating and read everything I could on the subject. It changed my relationship with food. I came to understand that bodies are not an exact science. They have needs and wants that differ by day based on your movement levels and hormonal changes, but also social events, cultural practices and personal preferences. Around this time I also went vegan, which for some can be a method of restriction. Luckily for me, I discovered a newfound passion for cooking and this cemented the idea that food was about enjoyment and exploration.

After a long break from the gym, I started working out again. I had the energy to train due to properly fuelling my body. My sessions were centred around getting faster and stronger. Strength-based goals meant my sense of achievement stemmed from a heavier deadlift record, as opposed to an unhealthily low body fat percentage. Progress wasn’t linear. It has taken me years to reconcile my relationship with food and fitness. There are still days when I am tempted by the sense of control tracking provides.

But recently that voice in my head has been so much quieter.

Now, I can try my mum’s freshly-baked muffins without panicking about the unknown macros. I can visit restaurants with my friends, regardless of whether the menu will provide calories to log in to an app. I can make my porridge in the morning and I don’t have to weigh the cinnamon I sprinkle on top.

It is sad how many people I know have been through the same cycle with MyFitnessPal. An innocent attempt to better understand their nutrition deteriorates into obsessive, restrictive behaviour. To anyone who is at any stage in this spiral, the most important thing is to talk to a professional. However, from my personal experience, I would recommend several things. Delete your tracking apps. Research intuitive eating. Take time off from the gym if you need. Avoid consuming media that promotes restriction and guilt. Move your body in ways that feel good. Speak with the people you love about your experiences.

Because life is infinitely too short to weigh the cinnamon you sprinkle on your morning porridge.