The morning I decided to do it, it had been three months since I’d opened the app.
Three months. I couldn’t believe something I had used multiple times a day for over ten years had become so utterly absent from my daily life. And nothing had blown up.
When I first lost weight for my wedding, we didn’t even have iPhones or apps. Back then, I created a written diary of my food on lined paper and stored it in a 3-ring binder. I kept track of everything, and it helped me to lose over 60 pounds for the wedding. I kept tracking for the next 5 years in that journal. I don’t even remember throwing away that binder, but I must have at some point. Because when MyFitnessPal came along, it felt like a gift. A way to finally understand what was in my food, to see the numbers, to feel in control. I lived by it. I recommended it. I logged everything — and I mean everything.
At first, it started with just calorie counting as the main goal. Then, it was real foods and fiber. Then protein. Then macros. I became a pro at zeroing out my macros every single day. Protein, carbs, and fat were all accounted for, and hit perfectly. It made it easier to hit my goals, I’d tell myself. Protein is so important, I’d say.
What I never fully understood was the cost of not walking away.
I tried. Sure, I’d go a week without tracking, and it would feel fine — until it didn’t. Until the anxiety crept in and I’d come running back, desperate to reclaim whatever progress I thought I’d lost. Always progress, even in maintenance. I used to wonder: would I always use this? Would I track everything for the rest of my life?
Eventually, I accepted my fate: I was an all-or-nothing person, and I had miraculously been all-in on my health for the better part of twenty years. Tracking was just part of who I was.
Then, MyFitnessPal updated, and I hated it.
That’s really how it happened. Not a grand decision. Not a milestone moment. The app got harder to use, I got frustrated, and I decided to take a break for a few days. A few days became a few weeks. A few weeks became three months. And somewhere in that time, quietly, without drama or going backwards, I was okay.
So, I cancelled my membership and deleted the app from my home screen. It wasn’t even difficult. There was no anxiety, no worry. Just relief and lightness.
I want to be clear: tracking works. MyFitnessPal helped me lose weight, understand food, and build habits I still carry, and likely always will. I credit it for a lot. But for me, after twenty years, it had become a crutch, and it came at a cost I didn’t fully see until I put it down.
Life looks and feels different now. I stopped obsessing over every gram. I started sharing a piece of fruit or cheese with my kids without stopping to log it. I eat with my family now without overplanning. I enjoy meals I used to pass on because they were annoying to track. I still prioritize protein — that hasn’t changed — but I’m more relaxed about it. I trust myself to know what my body needs.
The food noise got quieter.
I wasn’t just ready to let go of the app. I was ready to let go of the version of me who needed it — the one who obsessed, who tracked, who lived and died by the numbers. That person served her purpose. For twenty years.
But I don’t need her anymore.
I started Proving Her Wrong because I had more to write about than health and fitness.
There’s a part of me that exists outside the meal prep and the protein and the clean eating. A part that’s been thinking about identity, about hiding, about what it means to finally become who you were always supposed to be.
That’s what I write about over there. Personal essays. Honest ones.
If you’re curious about that part of me, here’s where to start:
Read them all at provingherwrong.substack.com