I recently got home from a trip to Paris with my partner and an old friend. It was my first European trip in 11 years, and I’ve been reflecting on everything that’s changed in that time.

In 2015, I was limited to accomodation wifi… none of this ‘24/7 roaming’ or e-sims! I’d write down directions as I couldn’t access google maps offline, and would find places to explore using my 2009 Lonely Planet guide. I’m very grateful that the instagram algorithm finally knows me and my priorities (food, food & more food).

The ease of travel this time around was incredible. Smooth and serendipitous. But without a doubt, the thing that stood out to me the most was the way that my eating habits and relationship with food have changed over the last decade.

I used to have no concept of “balanced” eating. I would yo-yo between extreme restriction for weeks to months, visibly losing 10-15kg at a time, before feeling so starved that I would binge-eat uncontrollably and yo-yo back the other way. I’d either be eating green salads (afraid of even eating carrots, because a girl at choir said they were “the vegetable with the most sugar in it”) and coffee, or becoming so hungry that I’d eat a full block of chocolate because the intensity of my appetite left me with such little control over my actions. Then, I’d feel an overwhelming amount of shame, guilt, embarrassment and a sense of failure. And so the cycle would repeat itself.

The idea of “control” over my body is an interesting phrase. Because that’s truly not how I view the relationship with my body anymore. “Control” implies power, but now, I think of my relationship with my body as a partnership. Where we’re creating space to listen and be heard by each other. A space for safety, nourishment, and healing.

But it took some sharp growing pains to get me to this point. To undo the decades of influence that diet culture has had on me as a ‘95 baby. Eight years of nutrition training, as well as a decade of intermittent psychological therapy, and an intentional journey to reconnect with my body in a positive way.

I suppose the reason that I’m sharing all of this is because these unexpected but vivid memories of my past have reminded me that nutrition information is not general knowledge. Women’s bodies have been commodified, sexualised, and scrutinised dating back to 1750 BCE. And diet culture - the idea that there’s a moral weight attached to food choices, and that thinness equates to societal value - has influenced food trends and subsequent behaviours for centuries.

I’m proud to share that my current relationship with food is healthy and balanced. I no longer feel exhausted, distracted, or live with deafening food noise throughout the day like I used to. But in order to feel nourished, satiated, and energised, there are a few guidelines that I follow to fuel myself sustainably, and I take them with me wherever I travel.

A Guide to Healthy Eating on Vacation ✨

From motorway meals to Mediterranean summers, these guardrails will help you feel energised and nourished

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Sending you a very warm welcome to my first Substack deep-dive ✨

Whether you’re thinking about conceiving in the future, actively trying to conceive, or just interested in the topic - I really appreciate you being here.

As a women’s health dietitian, I really always imagined myself working exclusively with women. This is for a few reasons:

1. A woman’s ecology of hormones is beautifully unique. As such, working with women at different life stages is a specialty of its own. Conventional medicine was built around treating men, but this can’t, and shouldn’t, be extrapolated to treating women; and vice versa.

2. Women behave differently, learn differently, present differently and communicate differently in the presence of men. The research suggests we do this to conform to gender expectations and navigate social dynamics. It also identified that women contribute and engage more in all-female environments. In an effort to support healing and transformation, it’s important to me to cultivate a place where women can present authentically to reconnect with themselves.

3. As a practitioner, I consider it my duty to create a safe space for patient consults. With one in three women worldwide having experienced violence at the hands of a man, I wanted to ensure that any woman seeking my care always felt safe.

With that said… recently I’ve been contemplating making an exception to that rule.

Before we get into sperm health, a quick note. I celebrate and welcome all gender identities, expressions, and the many ways people build families - including same-sex couples, trans parents, and families formed through adoption or donation.

Because this article focuses on biology, I’ll sometimes use a simplified, heterosexual framework (referring to a male and a female as assigned at birth) to explain certain concepts. I know this doesn’t fully reflect everyone’s experience or the richness of modern family-making, and I hope that I don’t cause any offence. You are seen and welcomed here. I’m just aiming to keep the science as clear as possible. Thank you for your understanding 🤎

Two people, one pregnancy: why his health matters too

When it comes to fertility, the male’s contribution to the picture cannot be overstated. Male’s contribute half the genetic material to the embryo. The state of his health at that time will have lifelong impacts for the child. And I’m not just talking about rare genetic abnormalities like chromosomal disorders that can be detected at birth. I’m talking about the way that the male’s genes will program the child’s long term metabolic health, chronic disease risk, weight profile, and much, much more.

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