02. The Mountain of Rice

Having been a chubby child with people pulling my cheeks at every turn and telling me how much they loved them (I hated the cheek pulling by the way, it hurt so much), I grew up watching my weight like a hawk.

If I ever dared to stop checking the scale for a while, a family event would roll around and some aunt or cousin would comment on how I had “added weight” and needed to watch it.

So the scale became a quiet companion in my life.

When I reflect on those years now, I have mixed feelings about how much body positivity has seeped into society. I find it comforting when I have clearly “put on” and slightly toxic when I am actually in shape - which, to be fair, is rare.

But I digress.

Very often, we are given a lot of things on the plate that we don’t actually want that much of.

Because of all the weight talk growing up, I must have tried every diet imaginable. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to get it right. I wanted the numbers on the scale to cooperate.

Over time though, two things happened...

First, I started adopting meals that were surprisingly delicious and healthy - the kind of meals that years ago would have sounded completely unappealing.

Second, I started noticing something about the way food is structured.

Very often, we are given a lot of things on the plate that we don’t actually want that much of. Businesses do this for profit, but nutritionally it’s often to our detriment.

Take loaded fries for example.

What I really enjoy is the sauce and the occasional meaty surprise. That’s the part that excites me.

But does that mean 75% of the plate needs to be french fries?

Probably not.

But fries are cheap. Fries fill the plate. Fries make the business money.

Pizza is another example. I love the toppings. I even realised the crunch from the vegetables is one of my favourite parts. But no one stops to think: what if someone just wants the cheese, marinara and all the delicious toppings without packing themselves full of dough?

Maybe this only works for me. Maybe I’m biased.

But as I’ve gone further along this journey of health and fitness, I’ve started noticing these things more.

Are we really meant to come to this world just to be on diets?

One memory that always comes back to me is of my mum exercising.

She used to wear those leggings with the sling that goes under your foot. She would exercise until she was completely exhausted. Then she would pour some chocolate-looking powder into water, drink it, and not eat much for the rest of the day - that's how I remember it anyway.

When I think about that memory alongside our conversations now — where she is always trying one diet or another - I sometimes ask myself:

Is this a joke?

Are we really meant to come to this world just to be on diets?

What kind of life is that?

Over time I realised something else too.

This pattern is actually tied to our African upbringing in some ways.

We were often taught to eat the mountain of rice first.

The bread.

The yam.

The big carbohydrates on the plate.

Only after conquering that mountain do we get to the exciting part - the meat.

But what if the protein were the first thing we ate?

With people like DOAC and other creators talking about insulin spikes and the role of fibre in our diets, I’ve come to realise something important: it is possible to enjoy food without obsessing over the scale.

But here’s the interesting part.

The scale was never really the point.

Because all of this turned out to be a metaphor.

What if the way we structure food is not so different from the way we structure life?

Is it possible that all the roundabout talk about passion and mastery was actually about something much simpler?

Study hard.

Read widely.

Specialise.

Stay in one field long enough to become an expert.

But is it possible that much of that advice was simply our parents’ way of ensuring we had good earning capabilities?

Is it possible that all the roundabout talk about passion and mastery was actually about something much simpler?

Money.

In that sense, the entire journey could be likened to the mountain of rice.

All the studying.

All the degrees.

All the years of expertise.

Meanwhile what many people really wanted was the meat.

Financial stability.

In 2026 things look very different.

AI can build a curriculum for you on demand. NotebookLM can condense information into something that feels like an interactive podcast. Napkin and Canva AI can turn ideas into beautiful visuals almost instantly.

Experts are now being created in months instead of decades.

Which makes you pause and ask a very uncomfortable question:

Is there still a point in the traditional path if I can ask AI to build a course in any field, learn at my own pace, and then apply consistency and confidence when I speak publicly?

Could someone become known as a thought leader in weeks or months instead of decades?

And if that’s the case, are we all just finding new ways to reach the meat that worried our boomer parents so much?

Times have changed.

And we will have to change too.

Being a millennial is no excuse anymore. Millennials saw the internet arrive. We watched the world transform in real time.

Curiosity is no longer optional.

We should be willing to dive in - while still remembering how to live real life outside the screen.

In a world where knowledge can be compressed, where tools can accelerate learning, and where access is no longer limited in the same way, the mountain suddenly feels negotiable.

Perhaps the future isn’t about skipping the rice altogether.

Perhaps it’s simply about deciding how much rice we actually need before getting to the meat.