We tell ourselves a lot of stories. One of our favorites is the one about total control. We like to think we have a detailed plan for everything, a kind of perfect map where every stop is marked and every outcome is guaranteed. Workouts, work, daily life. And, of course, food.
But what happens when that map doesn’t match the territory we’re actually crossing?
The most misunderstood word in the world of wellness
The word “diet” is probably one of the most misunderstood in our language. If you ask around, most people will associate it with a list of restrictions, a regimen of sacrifices made up of precise measurements and forbidden foods. A period of suffering necessary to atone for the sin of giving in to the temptations of a carbonara a few too many times.
And yet, if we dig a little deeper, we discover that its origin tells a completely different story. It comes from the ancient Greek díaita, and it means “way of life,” “lifestyle.” Not a temporary constraint, but an approach that accompanies daily life, adapting to its curves and changes.
You can see there’s a world of difference between “a way of life” and “two months of bread and water to fit into last year’s jeans.”
The dangerous allure of rigidity
So why are rigid diets so seductive? Probably because they give us the illusion of being at the helm. It’s comforting, in a way. It’s a binary system: if you follow it, you’re disciplined and therefore “good”; if you slip up, you’re weak and therefore “bad.” There’s no room for interpretation, for nuance, for real life.
The problem is that reality isn’t an Excel spreadsheet. It’s made of good days and bad days, of spontaneous dinners with friends, of work-related stress, of workouts skipped due to bad weather or sessions that were more intense than planned. And in this scenario, the rigid model cracks: if you slip up, you feel guilty; if you resist, you live in constant anxiety about making a mistake.
It’s no coincidence that many diets fail not from a lack of willpower, but because they don’t account for the variability of real life. It’s like trying to use the exact same strategy to face a sunny day and a hurricane.
Your body is not a machine
One of the great illusions of a rigid diet is the belief that the body always functions the same way, like a combustion engine with a constant energy requirement. In reality, its needs are constantly changing, and they change for good reasons.
The Tuesday you ran 20 kilometers can’t be the same, from a nutritional standpoint, as the Wednesday you spent eight hours sitting at a desk. After a long run, you might crave more carbs to replenish your glycogen stores, while on a sedentary day, your body might ask for something lighter, especially if you’re engaged in tasks that require concentration.
The energy you burn, the quality of your sleep, work-related stress, even hormonal changes: these are all factors that modify your needs. Ignoring these fluctuations to stick to a predetermined rule means risking two things: on one hand, not giving your body what it truly needs; on the other, fostering a conflicting relationship with food, perceived not as nourishment but as a “reward or punishment.”
The lost art of listening
The real challenge, far more useful and sustainable in the long run, is learning to decipher the signals your body sends you. It’s a constant dialogue, an art that is refined with practice, like learning to run by feel without depending on a GPS.
Our body tells us when it needs fuel and, often, what kind of fuel it needs. The problem is that we’ve forgotten how to listen, distracted by the background noise of external rules, calorie-counting apps, and meal plans we read on the internet.
One of the first skills to develop is distinguishing true hunger from what we might call “nervous” or emotional hunger. You don’t need a degree in psychology to understand the difference:
Physical hunger is patient. It arrives gradually, sending you gentle signals (a light grumble, a feeling of emptiness, difficulty concentrating) and is open to different options. If you’re truly hungry, even an apple or a yogurt can seem like a good idea, and it’s satisfied with a balanced meal.
Emotional hunger is an invader. It shows up suddenly, is demanding and specific. It screams “I want that cookie” or “I need that pizza, right now.” It’s often linked to emotions like stress, boredom, or sadness, and it doesn’t really go away when you eat. In fact, it often leaves an aftertaste of dissatisfaction.
Recognizing this difference isn’t about blaming yourself, but about giving you more tools to better manage your well-being. It’s like learning to distinguish when your body is truly asking for rest and when you’re just procrastinating on your workout.
Personalization as the key
At this point, a clear principle emerges: no pre-packaged diet, no matter how well-designed, can replace daily listening to your body. That’s why talking about personalization and flexibility isn’t a luxury, but a necessity.
Personalization means that your food choices must take into account your history, your lifestyle, your habits, and even your tastes. It’s unrealistic to think you can follow a plan for months that ignores what you truly enjoy or that doesn’t fit your work and activity rhythms.
Flexibility means accepting that there will be days when you eat more and days when you eat less, days when your body asks for a hearty plate of pasta to recharge and others when it prefers a light soup to feel more agile. This isn’t a failure; it’s exactly how true balance works.
Toward an intelligent approach to food
Embracing a flexible approach doesn’t mean falling into total food anarchy. It’s not a free-for-all where you only eat junk food. Rather, it means having healthy guidelines—prioritizing real, minimally processed foods, ensuring a good intake of protein, complex carbs, and quality fats—and then adapting them to your day, your workout, and how you feel.
It means giving yourself permission to eat a bit more on the day of a long workout and a bit less on a complete rest day. It means not feeling guilty about a Friday night pizza with friends, because that pizza is as much a part of a healthy “lifestyle” as the quinoa salad from the day before.
It’s like learning to drive: at first, you need precise rules and constant checks, but with experience, you develop a sensitivity that allows you to adapt to traffic, road conditions, and the weather. You become a driver, not just someone executing instructions.
The freedom to be human
When you accept flexibility as an integral part of your nutrition, something magical happens: you stop oscillating between extreme rigor and guilt, and you start to experience food as an ally in your life.
Building your own nutrition in a personalized and flexible way is an investment. It requires more attention at first, it’s true, but it pays off with long-term sustainability. Because the goal isn’t to “finish a diet,” but to build a relationship with food that supports you, that gives you the energy to run and to live life to the fullest.
A relationship that isn’t a prison made of inflexible rules, but one of the many paths that make up your authentic way of being in the world.
In this way, diet returns to what it has always been in its original meaning: a lifestyle. Not a rule to be feared or endured, but a practice that evolves with you, with your needs, and with your ever-changing daily life.
Eating well doesn’t mean rigidity. It means knowing how to listen, interpret, and respond intelligently to the needs of the moment. It means, in other words, taking care of yourself with the same attention and respect you would give a dear friend.