The 3-Day Lunch Test: proof of concept for your own life
You’ve spent years running proof of concept for everyone else’s priorities.
Their deadlines. Their emergencies. Their needs. Their definitions of what matters.
And somewhere in there, you started borrowing.
Borrowed urgency—living inside other people’s timelines, reacting to their fires.
Borrowed energy—caffeine to start, wine to stop, willpower to bridge the gap.
Borrowed solutions—another diet, another app, another expert telling you what your body needs.
Even your dreams get built in borrowed time: the stolen hour before the next errand, the 11pm window after everyone’s finally asleep, the car ride where you try to think your own thoughts while driving to pick up someone else.
And lunch?
Lunch is cold, late, standing up, or skipped entirely. Lunch is whatever’s left over after everyone else is handled.
You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. It’s just lunch.
But here’s what I’ve learned:
The cold, rushed, last-priority lunch isn’t neglect. It’s a signature.
It’s how you sign your name to the Borrowed Life every single day—confirming that everyone else’s needs come first, that your turn hasn’t arrived yet, that you’ll take care of yourself with whatever’s left over.
Which is nothing.
What if lunch wasn’t about food?
What if the 45 minutes in the middle of your day—the ones you keep giving away—were actually the highest-leverage window you have?
Not for nutrition. For reclamation.
Scheduling a sit-down lunch is practice in communication. Protecting that window is practice in boundary-setting. Showing up for it is practice in keeping promises to yourself. Eating it warm, seated, without rushing, is practice in receiving what you said you needed.
On the daily.
This is the practice most women skip because it looks too simple. Too small. Not dramatic enough to fix what feels so broken.
But the woman who can protect 45 minutes for herself at noon—in broad daylight, while the inbox pings and the kids need things and the world keeps demanding—is the same woman who can protect her creative work, her rest, her boundaries, her life.
The lunch is proof of concept.
Here’s what happens by Day 3:
Not comfort. This isn’t about making you comfortable.
You’ll feel unleashed.
Your 3pm will be different—steadier, clearer, less grinding.
Your 9pm will be different—less wired, less restless, more yours.
And the fog will start to lift.
That fog you thought was exhaustion? It was protection. It kept you too depleted to notice what you already know: the ask you haven’t made, the conversation you’ve been avoiding, the boundary you keep letting slide.
One woman called it a “truth serum.”
Not because of the food.
Because when your physiology is settled, you can no longer hide from what you already know.
This isn’t a meal plan. It’s the end of your own plausible deniability.
The 3-Day Lunch Test includes:
Reflection sheets to name what you’re really hungry for when it isn’t food
A simple warm lunch framework you can prep in minutes and repeat all week
A 3-day meal map so you don’t have to think
Body signals trackers with 3pm and 9pm check-ins
A 15-minute grocery list so your kitchen supports you instead of sabotages you
Three days. One warm, on-time, sit-down lunch. Protected like a meeting.
See what the data says about your own terms.
Two ways to access this:
→ Get it through paid membership ($120/year) — which also includes the full Rhythm system: the “Day in the Life of You” assessment (with an AI coach prompt option), the four anchor points, ongoing support, and everything else inside Food as Medicine. Already a paid member? See below.
Your turn has been there this whole time. This is how you take it.