I tracked everything I ate for 30 days — here’s what I learned about my real cravings

I didn’t begin this experiment to lose weight or count macros. It wasn’t about proving anything to myself or to others.

I started food tracking because I felt unsettled.

Some days I’d wake up bloated. Others, I’d hit a wall of jittery exhaustion before lunch. I had cravings at odd hours, a rollercoaster of hunger that didn’t always match my mealtimes.

Despite following what I thought was a “clean” plant-based routine, something felt misaligned. That’s when it hit me: I didn’t really know what I was eating — or why.

So I ditched calorie-tracking apps and pulled out a blank journal.

My mission?

To capture every single bite for 30 days, no edits, no filters. I recorded not just meals but the in-between moments: spoonfuls of hummus, sips of almond milk lattes, and crackers grabbed between meetings. More importantly, I documented how I felt before and after eating.

What emerged wasn’t just a record — it was a mirror into my relationship with food, emotions, and the stories I told myself about what I needed.

I kept a cravings-first journal

Rather than treat this as a food diary focused on portions or nutritional breakdowns, I flipped the script. Every entry centered on cravings.

• What was I craving before I ate?
• What emotion was driving the desire?
• What did I actually end up eating, and how did it make me feel?

I noticed patterns almost immediately. Salty snacks showed up after tense meetings. Sweet cravings emerged on days with poor sleep.

Creamy or soft textures appeared when I felt low or isolated—almost like edible comfort. Each day became a series of micro-reflections.

I’d jot down: “Craving something chewy. Tired but not hungry. Ate half a granola bar. Still wanted something—maybe quiet?”

This style of journaling removed shame and added clarity. I wasn’t being “bad” for craving cookies—I was overwhelmed. The cookie was a signal, not a flaw.

Over time, I became less reactive. I could meet cravings with curiosity, not control. I wasn’t logging to restrict—I was logging to understand.

I ditched the perfection mindset

The old me would’ve judged a dinner of fries and a vegan milkshake as a “bad day.” But early in this process, I made a decision: no food was off-limits, and no entry would be edited to look better than it was.

On Day 4, that exact fry-and-shake combo happened—and I wrote it down in full.

Not with shame, but with honesty.

Then I asked myself: How did I feel afterward? The answer? Satisfied in the moment, but sluggish by bedtime. That feedback loop became more valuable than any food rule. Instead of chasing “perfect” meals, I started focusing on aligned meals—the ones that tasted good, felt good, and supported my energy.

It was incredibly liberating.

I could enjoy a cookie without spiraling or counterbalancing with a juice cleanse.

My attention shifted from “good versus bad” to “does this serve me right now?” That small mindset shift made a massive difference.

It kept me engaged for all 30 days without burnout or guilt, and it helped me start listening to what my body actually needed.

I noticed the foods that truly satisfied me

One of the biggest surprises came when I reviewed my entries and noticed which foods delivered long-lasting satisfaction. Some were unexpected.

A bowl of lentil soup often held me longer than a trendy smoothie packed with powders.

A small handful of pistachios mid-morning left me focused longer than a full-on vegan pastry. I started to highlight foods that consistently left me energized and grounded. They weren’t always the most photogenic, but they earned a spot on my mental “feel-good” list.

To give you an idea, here are some of the plant-based staples that showed up with stars in my journal:

• Chia pudding with peanut butter — creamy, filling, and protein-rich without spiking my energy

• Roasted cauliflower tacos — loaded with fiber, satisfying crunch, and packed flavor

• Avocado toast on sprouted bread — hearty and balanced with healthy fats

• Steamed edamame with lemon and sea salt — a simple, protein-rich snack that kept me focused

These foods weren’t just “healthy”—they met my cravings halfway. They hit that intersection of nourishment and comfort, which made them incredibly effective at cutting through mindless snacking later.

I tracked cravings by time of day

Once I zoomed out and looked at when my cravings hit, it painted a revealing picture. I wasn’t just a “late-night snacker,” as I’d assumed—I was actually an after-Zoom-meeting grazer.

Stress cravings spiked in the late afternoon, often between 3pm and 4pm.

Late evenings were more about winding down than hunger.

And mornings?

They were more emotionally neutral—just needing fuel. This timing map gave me a new way to plan—not to avoid cravings, but to support them better. For example, I started prepping a mini snack tray before my afternoon work block: raw veggies, spicy hummus, maybe a couple of tamari almonds.

Just knowing that relief was available helped me resist that “wander to the kitchen” autopilot. I also experimented with adding walks during known snack-trigger windows, or even five-minute meditations to check whether I was hungry or just overstimulated.

Most importantly, I didn't restrict anything — Iwas trying to reroute old pathways in a way that made space for both nourishment and mindfulness.

I rewrote my grocery list

Toward the end of the 30 days, my journal gave me a clear sense of what I wanted to stock up on.

My grocery list had slowly shifted, not from guilt or force, but from noticing what actually supported me.

I began prioritizing foods that gave me lasting energy, satisfied cravings, and brought joy. I also kept a few “craving-specific” backups on hand for those inevitable moments when emotion drove appetite.

Here’s a sample of what ended up on my new weekly list:

• Fermented foods — like kimchi and miso, which added depth and helped with digestion

• High-fiber vegetables — such as beets, kale, and Brussels sprouts, which kept me full and regular

• Protein-rich snacks — including tofu jerky, roasted lupini beans, and tamari almonds

• Fun, crunchy textures — like nori sheets, air-popped popcorn, and kale chips for sensory satisfaction

• Comfort go-tos — like vegan mac, coconut yogurt, or squares of dark chocolate for emotional ease

This wasn't about “clean eating.” It was about creating a pantry that respected both my physiology and my feelings.

When everything in your kitchen supports your actual life—not your imagined diet—you start to crave differently. You choose differently. And most importantly, you feel different.

What I learned (and what I didn’t expect)

What I expected from this 30-day tracking challenge was a better understanding of my habits. What I didn’t expect was how emotional the process would be—or how empowering.

I learned that cravings are rarely about weakness. More often, they’re about unmet needs: sleep, rest, connection, even pleasure. I also saw how often I used snacks as transitions—between tasks, moods, or conversations.

Once I saw that pattern, I could start replacing some of those transitions with things that actually helped: a walk, a deep breath, or a moment of music.

Most of all, I discovered that being honest about food is freeing. I didn’t “fix” myself. I just tuned in. And by tuning in, I stopped the endless cycle of shame and overcorrection.

Now, I don’t eat perfectly — but I eat on purpose. I can spot my real cravings, and meet them with something that soothes both body and spirit. That, more than anything, was worth every scribbled bite.