We’ve all had those stretches when our diets drift off course, bit by bit, until everything we put in our mouths feels slightly incomplete or quietly at odds with our wellbeing: the second cold brew on an empty stomach, gulped through a straw on the way to a meeting, leaving your hands trembling at the conference table; the vending machine snacks you’re — understandably — calling dinner while waiting for a friend’s test results at the hospital; the third plate of beige takeout pasta this week because you’re feeling low.
Or maybe it’s making you feel low. You’re not sure anymore.
At a certain point, most of us reach a quiet turning point — not a grand health kick, exactly, just a gentle desire to feel like ourselves again.
That moment came for me earlier this year, after a…
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