People ask if this works. I don’t know how to answer that.

I can’t promise you results. I can’t show you a before-and-after photo or a chart of my progress. Bodies are complicated. Minds are complicated. The relationship between them is very complicated.

Here’s what I can say.

What I notice now

The way I think about food is different than it was when I started. Some of that is the prompts. Some of it is probably other things. I can’t run a controlled experiment on myself.

I don’t promise anything. I don’t know if it will work for you.

What I know is this: Small thoughts, arriving regularly, change how I see things. That’s the bet. If it’s wrong, you’ve lost nothing but a few seconds each morning.

That’s why 365 Changes is free to try. One prompt a day, delivered by email. If it resonates, you’ll know. If it doesn’t, you can unsubscribe and move on.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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“I’m trying to eat less sugar.”

“I’m not a person who snacks.”

These sound similar. They’re completely different.

The first one is a battle. It assumes I want the sugar and I’m resisting. Every day is a new fight. Willpower required.

The second one isn’t a fight at all. It’s just who I am. The decision has already been made, somewhere upstream, and the moment-to-moment choices flow from it.

Becoming, not battling

The prompts help with that—not by giving me rules, but by putting identity questions in front of me. Who do I want to be? What would that person do here?

Eventually, I stop asking. I just do what I do.

That’s the long game with 365 Changes. Not behavior modification. Not willpower training. Just small questions, arriving daily, that slowly reshape who I think I am.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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Tell me I can’t have bread and suddenly I want bread. Tell me dessert is forbidden and I’m thinking about dessert all day. The harder I grip the rules, the more I want to break them.

I don’t think I’m unusual in this. Rules create resistance. The moment something becomes off-limits, part of me starts scheming.

Noticing instead of restricting

The prompts I use don’t tell me what to eat. They don’t give me rules or meal plans or forbidden foods. They ask me to notice what I’m already doing.

That sounds soft. It is soft. But it’s also the only thing that’s ever worked for me.

Noticing is neutral. It doesn’t demand anything. It just asks: What’s happening here? Why did I reach for that? What am I actually feeling right now?

Most of the time, I don’t know the answer. That’s fine. The noticing is enough. Over time, patterns emerge. Things I didn’t see become visible. And once I see them, they’re harder to unsee.

That’s the approach behind 365 Changes—not rules to follow, but questions to sit with. One each morning. No judgment, no tracking, just attention.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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Over the years I’ve learned about the food pyramid, serving sizes, how to read labels. Whole grains vs refined, good fats and bad fats, processed vs whole foods. Fiber, added sugars, protein and carbohydrates.

And yet… the more I learn, the more my body tells me I’ve missed the point.

I decided to stop trying to make myself eat better. Stop trying to change my body. Instead, I’d change my mind—so my mind and body could be well together.

Information taught me facts about food. Daily prompts teach me to notice how I actually eat.

So I built this: 365changes.com: A Daily Prompt About Eating

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I don’t know how many books I’ve read. The ones about habits, about willpower, about the science of satiety and the psychology of cravings. I understood them. I agreed with them. Then I closed them and continued eating the way I always had.

Sound familiar?

There’s a difference between learning something and having it change you.

Why information doesn’t stick

The problem isn’t information. The problem is that information doesn’t stick unless it arrives repeatedly, in small doses, over time.

The prompts are small on purpose. A single question. A single thought. Something you can hold in your head while you make coffee. That smallness is the point—it’s what lets them accumulate.

I didn’t need another book. I needed the same few ideas to show up again and again, from different angles, until they stopped being things I knew and started being things I did. That’s what I built.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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I’m tired of the scale. Tired of the mental math—what I ate, what I’ll eat, what I shouldn’t have eaten. Tired of the number defining whether today is a good day or a bad day.

I didn’t call what I built “a daily prompt about weight loss.” That framing points at the outcome—the number, the goal, the destination. But the number is a result. It’s downstream of something else.

The behavior, not the outcome

The something else is eating. Not food, exactly—food is just the stuff. Eating is the behavior. The when, the why, the how much, the stopping or not stopping. The thousand small moments that add up.

I don’t want to manage my weight. I want to stop thinking about it entirely. That only happens if eating becomes unremarkable—if I just eat like a person who eats well, without the constant negotiation.

The prompts are about eating because that’s where change actually lives. Not the number on the scale. Not the calories in the app. Just the ordinary moments when I’m deciding whether to eat, what to eat, when to stop.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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By 9pm, I’ve already lost. The day has worn me down. I’m tired. My defenses are gone. And somehow I find myself standing in front of the pantry, not really hungry, negotiating with myself about whether I’ve earned a snack.

Evenings are when I tell myself I’ll start fresh tomorrow. Just this once. I worked hard today. The excuses come easy when I’m exhausted.

I tried fighting harder at night. It doesn’t work. Willpower is a depleting resource, and by evening it’s spent.

The window before the noise starts

The prompts arrive in the morning for a reason.

Mornings are different. The day hasn’t happened yet. I haven’t made any food decisions. I haven’t failed at anything. There’s a small window before the momentum builds, before the habits wake up.

That’s when a thought can land. Not because mornings are virtuous—they’re just quieter. The noise hasn’t started yet. A question about eating, arriving before I’m thinking about food, has a chance of being heard.

The evening battle didn’t change until I started putting something in my head in the morning. That’s the idea behind 365 Changes—one prompt, early, before the day fills in.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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I’ve done the diets. The strict ones, the flexible ones, the ones with phases and the ones with points. They all worked—for a while. Then they didn’t, and I was back where I started, sometimes worse.

The pattern was always the same: big effort, temporary results, eventual collapse. I kept thinking I needed to find the right diet. Eventually I wondered if the whole model was wrong.

Change through accumulation

I could have built a weekly digest. Or a searchable archive. Or a book. Any of those would be easier to make and easier to sell.

But none of them would work.

Change doesn’t happen in one big moment of clarity. It happens through accumulation. The same ideas, arriving from slightly different angles, until one day you notice you’re thinking differently about something you used to not think about at all.

I’ve been receiving my own prompts since I started building this. Most days I read, nod, move on. But something has shifted. I notice things I didn’t used to notice. That’s the whole game—and that’s why I send one thought a day, not a weekly summary.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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I’ve tried the apps. The ones that want you to log every meal. The ones with streaks you’re terrified to break. The ones that send notifications when you haven’t checked in, like a needy friend who keeps score.

They work for a while. Then I miss a day, or a week, and the guilt piles up until I delete the app entirely. I end up feeling worse than before I started.

What if it didn’t demand anything?

Most things built to help people eat better demand attention. They want you to log meals, hit streaks, earn badges, check dashboards. They need you to need them.

I built something quiet instead. One email. Once a day. No tracking. No streaks. No notifications. Just a question—a small thing to notice about how you actually eat.

If you open it, good. If you don’t, it doesn’t guilt you. There’s no streak to break. Tomorrow, another one arrives, same as today.

I think this matters because attention is finite and food is forever. I can’t sustain a relationship with an app that demands daily proof of my commitment. The prompts ask almost nothing. They just show up.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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I’ve tried relying on willpower. Everybody has. You decide you’re going to eat better, and for a while you do—until you don’t. Then you blame yourself for not being disciplined enough.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand: My body is the result of thousands of small decisions made over years. Most weren’t really decisions at all. They were defaults—things I did without thinking because that’s what I do. Open the pantry, grab what’s at eye level. Finish what’s on the plate because it’s on the plate.

The problem with “eating better”

The problem with trying to “eat better” is that it frames eating as a series of choices. But by the time I’m choosing, the default has already voted. Willpower shows up late, tired, and outnumbered.

So I stopped trying to have more willpower. I started trying to change my defaults.

Defaults are built from accumulated ideas—things I believe without examining. If I want different defaults, I need different ideas taking up residence. Not all at once. One thought at a time, repeated until it becomes part of how I see things.

That’s why I built something that puts a single thought in front of me each morning—not to motivate me, but to slowly reshape what “normal” feels like.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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I know about macros. I understand glycemic index, the difference between whole and processed foods, why protein keeps you full longer. I’ve read the books. I can explain insulin resistance while reaching for a second slice of cake.

If you’re like me, you’ve wondered why knowing all of this doesn’t seem to help. The information is there. The behavior doesn’t follow.

I used to think I needed more information—better information, presented more compellingly. It doesn’t work that way. The problem isn’t what I know. The problem is when I know it.

When the thought arrives matters

The prompts I built aren’t information delivery. They’re interruptions.

One thought arrives each morning—before I’m hungry, before I’m standing in front of the fridge negotiating with myself. Before the defaults kick in. That timing is the whole thing.

If you could read all the prompts in an afternoon, nod along, close the tab—nothing would change. The email works differently. It just shows up, early, when there’s a small window for a thought to land.

That’s what I built 365 Changes around—not more nutrition facts, but a single question arriving before my day fills in, when there’s still room for it to matter.

365 Changes: A daily prompt about eating — https://365changes.com/

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