Picture: ISTOCK
The Rise nutrition app connects users with a registered dietitian who offers feedback on meals. Picture: ISTOCK

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IT STARTED with a stir fry. I ordered my usual: shrimp, tofu, broccoli and snap peas in spicy teriyaki sauce over brown rice. It always brought me back from the brink of grumpiness.

But two weeks ago, my routine was upended when I signed up for Rise, a nutrition app that connects the user with a registered dietitian who offers feedback on meals.

Everything I eat, I photograph and upload for review, even snacks. Gabriella, my Rise dietitian, quickly graduated from the coach in my phone to the voice in my head.

A face-to-face visit with a registered dietitian can cost $25 (R355) to $45 per 15 minutes. Rise’s everyday accountability costs $49 a month.

But don’t take it lightly. On the Rise website, CE Suneel Gupta promises: "You will always feel the presence of your coach."

Of the five dietitians offered, I chose Gabriella because she’s a workout lover like me and described her mantra as "eat foods for energy and make them the foods you love". I hoped we could strike a balance between whittling a few stubborn pounds off my 1.8m frame, and joie de vivre (read: me not quitting wine).

I told myself I signed up to lose 2kg to 4kg to make running easier on my knees. But as is so often the case, a fresh insult had spurred action. Last month, my doctor eyed my midsection and asked: "Have you gained weight?" "Not really," I said, defensively. He replied: "You carry 80kg so well."

He emphasised "so well", as if he were delivering praise, not insulting me. After a barely perceptible shrug of disbelief, he said: "Must be the height."

So that’s how I found myself past the age of 40, uploading banal snapshots of everything I ate like a millennial foodie.

At the end of her day, Gabriella rated each of my meals in green, yellow or red. After the first day, I fell asleep, thinking I’d done well. In the morning, I found out I was a chump.

She dismissed the previous day’s 7am breakfast of a homemade waffle and half a banana as "just carb". Rating: Red. She wanted me to add lean protein.

My 4.27pm salad of melon and grapes? Another no-no. "Fruit is still fructose," she wrote, suggesting string cheese and carrots instead.

And the stir fry I had mistaken for virtuous? Its "great sources of protein" were commendable, she wrote, but that sauce was not. "Be cautious of too much teriyaki as it is high in sodium and has added sugar." Yellow rating.

It pains me to admit I asked half-a-dozen colleagues about L’Affaire Stir Fry, trying to get them to take my side over Gabriella’s. Still, I cared what she thought. So after she deemed roast chicken on sweet potatoes and broccoli "AWESOME!!", I ate it again. And I have not ordered my stir fry again.

Other Rise users probably have enough sense to not take a virtual dietitian so seriously. Chad K brags on Rise’s website that he enjoys "eating more than ever".

But during my first week on Rise, I was paralysed by what Gabriella would think. Sometimes literally: once I stood 10 minutes in the lobby of the building where I work, unsure where to get green-rated lunch.

No dietitian is a mind-reader. So to get more out of Rise, I had to disclose specifics in the caption, not just let an image speak for me. To feel less judged, I also needed Gabriella to explain why she pooh-poohed some choices.

The tipping point was a second breakfast of oatmeal, blueberries, raisins and walnuts. I was ravenous after an early run. By 10am, I had to feed the beast.

Earlier that week, Gabriella had set a goal of a "protein and healthy fat exchange at three meals per day". She sent a helpful primer. Ah! Walnuts fit the bill. But the next morning, she said my oatmeal was "mostly carb and sugar".

A great thing about Rise is you can send messages to a Member Success Champion when your coach is unavailable. And it also has a Coachline you can call from restaurants when a cheesy-saucy tagliatelle is whispering "choose me".

New York Times