Meal Prepping: Or How I Learned to Hate Chicken and Rice in 3 Days

Listen, every wellness influencer swears meal prepping is the key to unlocking your “best self.” You know, the self who somehow wakes up at 5 a.m., journals about gratitude, and drinks 64 ounces of lemon water before breakfast. Unfortunately, my “best self” apparently prefers hitting snooze seven times and eating cold pizza for lunch.

But fine, I’ll meal prep.

Day 1: The Delusion

You spend your Sunday chopping veggies, roasting chicken, and portioning everything into those neat little containers that scream “I have my life together.” You stack them in the fridge, post a smug story on Instagram, and convince yourself you’ll be saving money, eating clean, and becoming That Person™.

Day 2: The Decline

Lunch is… okay. The chicken is still tolerable. The rice hasn’t fully hardened into a brick yet. You tell yourself this is sustainable. You’re basically Gwyneth Paltrow but with less jade eggs and more Tupperware.

Day 3: The Betrayal

You open the fridge and see the same sad beige food staring back at you. The broccoli is now limp. The chicken tastes like regret. Suddenly, spending $14 on a burrito bowl doesn’t sound like financial ruin—it sounds like salvation.

Day 4: The Abandonment

You “forget” your meal at home. You promise you’ll eat it for dinner. You don’t. It sits there, untouched, while you eat Thai takeout and tell yourself you’ll “do better next week.”

Day 5: The Funeral

The Tupperware graveyard has begun. You leave them in the fridge until guilt outweighs laziness. Eventually, you dump the entire science experiment into the trash, containers and all, because honestly, who has the emotional strength to scrub out three-day-old salmon?

The Takeaway

Meal prepping sounds like a good idea. In practice, it’s just a fast-track way to make you resent food and question your life choices. Instead of pretending I’m a YouTube meal-prep goddess, I’ve decided my version of meal prepping is: buying snacks in bulk, cooking enough pasta to feed a family of six, and embracing leftovers like the fine, mediocre adult I am.

Because honestly? My best self deserves better than three-day-old chicken.

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