You wake up determined. Today is the day you finally break the cycle. You’ll wake up earlier, drink more water, and actually wind down before bed instead of getting lost in TikTok. But by noon, stress hijacks your brain. By evening, you’re exhausted. By bedtime, you’re back to square one. Sound familiar? Why is it so hard to change even when you desperately want to?

Can we talk about how eating has become way too complicated? Like, what happened to just enjoying a little bit of everything? Suddenly, every new diet is telling us to pick one food group, obsess over it, and turn it into our entire personality.

In my programs, we start on Thursdays. Why? Because Mondays come with way too much baggage. The “I’ll start fresh on Monday” mindset often leads to a weekend of overindulgence—a “last hurrah” of bad habits, like a bachelorette party for your old ways. By the time Monday rolls around, the pressure to be perfect is sky-high, and one misstep can feel like failure.

Thursdays, on the other hand, are calm and uneventful. They don’t carry the weight of a “fresh start” or the temptation of a blowout weekend. Starting on a Thursday sends a powerful message: change can happen anytime. No need to wait for the “right” moment; you can start improving your habits now, quietly and without fanfare.

"Hasang-hasa ka na pagdating d’on," my friend D said, casually, like she wasn’t about to drop the most life-changing advice of my 22-year-old existence. We were walking back to the dietary department at PGH, sweaty and starving, the way you’d expect from interns running on four hours of sleep and questionable sustenance. (Nutrition students eating turon for lunch—oh, the irony.)

There’s a collective gasp I’ve come to expect from my PCOS clients when I utter a certain four-letter word: R-I-C-E. It’s like I’ve just suggested they eat leche flan for breakfast every day. “But isn’t rice bad for me?” they ask, wide-eyed, as though we live in a country that doesn’t serve rice for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and occasionally dessert.

I get it. You’ve been feeling a little off lately—bloated, sluggish, maybe even blaming that extra holiday weight on mysterious food intolerances. You’ve cut gluten. Then dairy. Then…nightshades? (What even are nightshades?!) And now, in a last-ditch effort to “figure out what’s wrong,” you’ve shelled out upwards of 10k Php for a food intolerance test.

It all started with yet another fight. My boyfriend at the time, let’s call him… Chad (because he was acting like a total Chad), had forgotten our dinner plans. Again. And I was furious. As I sat there, angrily munching on takeout, I realized something: this wasn’t new. Not the Chad-forgetting-plans part, but the me-getting-unreasonably-upset part.

OMG am I the drama?

No not this time. It was my hormones. And they were running the show, flipping my emotions like soap opera. My relationships weren’t just bad luck—they were collateral damage in this war against my own body.

Here’s the thing about the holidays: it’s all glitter, good vibes, and too many party invites that can leave you feeling more drained than dazzled. Endless streams of spiked eggnog, gift exchanges, and Instagram stories of everyone living their best holiday life sound great… until you’re neck-deep in exhaustion, trying to remember the name of your coworker’s dog at yet another event.

Ah, the holidays. That magical time of year when everything sparkles and everyone expects you to show up—cheerful, decked out, and juggling a platter of queso de bola, humming “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” But let’s be real: for women in peri/menopause, the holiday season often feels less “merry and bright” and more like an exhausting obstacle course of stress, sugar, and sleepless nights.

We’ve all been there. You hear the whispers (or shouts) of diet culture: “Carbs make you fat,” or “Go low-fat to lose weight!” So, rice, pasta, bread, and even avocado toast get the boot. Your plate becomes a sad, joyless landscape of plain chicken breast and steamed greens. And by 3 PM? You're practically hypnotized by that pastry or pouring yet another sugary latte. Sound familiar?

We’ve all been there. You decide to start eating healthier, and suddenly, your mom or your aunties have a lot to say: “Oh please, you’ll give up in two weeks!” or “Why waste time on another diet?” It's enough to make you want to toss your kale salad right out the window.

Your ex and soda are basically the same thing, and you should quit both. To illustrate this, please refer to Table 1.

We’ve all been there: you wake up after a night of drinking, your head pounding, your stomach doing somersaults—and then it hits. That familiar, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The kind of anxiety that has nothing to do with your to-do list and everything to do with the few too many glasses of wine you had last night. Yes, we’re talking about hangxiety.