Estimated reading time: 7 minutes

When Fruit Becomes the Fall Guy

The gym lights buzzed overhead, the air reeked of sweat and steel, and I was exhausted; emotionally, physically, spiritually. I wasn’t just working out; I was enduring the grind of a long, brutal journey and one that tested everything: patience, belief, resilience. I was fighting to keep going when every part of me wanted to quit. Then came the fruit shaming.

I was standing there, depleted, when a coach looked me in the face and told me my apple was the problem. Not the sleepless nights, the cortisol-scorched system, the emotional landmines I was learning to walk through without detonation. Nope. It was the Honeycrisp. And that advice? It’s coming from a “nutrition coach” with six weeks of online training, a ring light, and a discount code.

Let me say it plain: Apples aren’t the enemy.

More than one story: a systemic failure

That wasn’t the first time I’d been dismissed but it was the one that finally made me stop playing small.

Three years ago, I found myself in a strange place. My weight loss had stalled, hard. No matter how diligently I logged, lifted, or leaned into the plan, something wasn’t right. After three months with a new coach and still feeling like my body was off, I reached out to one of the so-called ‘revered’ nutrition coaches in our space. The kind who lists credentials like they’re scripture. I told her everything; my intake, my training, how off I felt and how deeply concerned I was. Her response? “You must not be logging your food. Maybe you’re waking up in the middle of the night and eating without realizing it.” I was stunned. Not just by the arrogance, but by the dismissal. The message was clear: If the plan isn’t working, it’s your fault; you must be hoarding bananas at midnight.

Discovery that it wasn’t the fruit

Thankfully, I trusted my gut and started seeing a team of specialists at Mayo Clinic. My body had been whispering to me, and I was done being told it was lying. Four months later, they found a tumor on my pancreas. Everything inside me dropped. The room went still. The relief was overwhelming, but so was the rage. How many others had been dismissed like me; told they were the problem while something deeper threatened their survival? I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That moment burned itself into me. I wasn’t irrational or broken. I was right. My body had been speaking to me all along.

What if I hadn’t listened? What if I kept blaming myself, believing the plan was perfect and I was the flaw? That’s how people fall through the cracks. That’s how fruit becomes the scapegoat while tumors grow in silence. But here’s the thing: my story isn’t rare. It’s a symptom of something much bigger. And it’s time we talk about it. So yeah; miss me with the fruit shaming fear mongering. Miss me with the idea that a stalled scale must mean I’m secretly hoarding apples in my sleep. Sometimes, it’s your body waving a red flag. And if a coach can’t see that? They have no business holding the clipboard.

Coaching without context

There are brilliant coaches out there. Compassionate. Educated. Rooted in science and empathy. But too often, the loudest voices in the room are the least qualified to lead. They love to talk about “lived experience” as long as it comes with a certificate. But the kind I know? The kind I’ve lived? That doesn’t come from a textbook. That kind of lived experience can’t be taught. It has to be survived. They’re not the ones watching someone cry in the gym parking lot because they logged too many grams of carbs or fielding DMs from someone who’s terrified of an apple. They’re not asking why food became the safest place in the first place because they’re too busy demonizing fruit and calling it discipline. They talk about discipline, but what they really sell is fear; fear of food, fear of hunger, fear of something as harmless as a Honeycrisp.

Because when someone tells you fruit is a “problem,” they’re not talking to your body. They’re talking to your insecurity; they’re speaking to the part of you that’s been punished by food, haunted by it, shamed for it. They’re talking to your trauma like it’s a spreadsheet. Food isn’t just fuel. It’s comfort, connection, identity, and survival, and how many of us made it through. I’ve been that person, staring at a food log like it was a report card. Shrinking myself with pride. Believing that fruit was the sin keeping me from salvation. But the truth? Fruit isn’t the villain it’s been made out to be.

Healing didn’t come from fruit shaming. It came from cutting shame. From asking why I was eating, not just what.

Fruit shaming in the Industry of absurdity

Before we go any further, let’s name why this next part matters.

Because this isn’t just about frustration. This is about an industry that packages disordered habits as health advice and calls it discipline.

Let’s talk about the ones who recommend coffee instead of breakfast. “Just push through! Hunger is a mindset!” No, hunger is a biological signal. Your body isn’t gaslighting you. It’s trying to keep you alive.

Let’s talk about the ones who scream about fruit like it’s the devil’s dandruff. The ones who will shame you for an apple while sipping bottomless mimosas. But sure; tell me more about how fruit is the problem.

Let’s talk about the coaches who cosplay as keto crusaders; deep-frying butter like it’s science and flinching at a sweet potato like it’s a grenade. The ones who call it ancestral living but couldn’t name a vitamin if it bit them. Bro… your ancestors had scurvy. Please. That’s not coaching. That’s malnourishment with a Canva logo.

They quote studies they’ve never read and say “metabolic flexibility” like it’s a spell. They parade before-and-after photos while skipping the part where their client burned out, quit, or rebounded harder than ever. I should know… I’m the one getting all the DMs. 

The obesity experts

And then there’s the obesity experts. You know the ones; bios loaded with buzzwords. They say it’s simple: eat less, move more. As if a global health crisis could be solved with a calorie chart and a calculator.

So why cover this? Because it’s not just inaccurate; it’s dangerous. This mindset is being sold to everyday people as truth, and it’s shaping how coaches coach, how clients suffer, and how shame takes root in the bodies of people who deserve compassion, not condescension. Obesity isn’t a math problem, it’s a story with many chapters. Too damn bad most people preaching the solution never made it past Chapter One.

Speaking of calculator, the minute you ask them to break down the whole “calories out” piece is when they freeze. Ask them to break it and down and they’re going to stall, stutter or quote their favorite influencer because they simply are not equipped. They don’t know how to explain it because they don’t actually know what it means. They just heard someone else say it louder. It’s copy-paste confidence with zero comprehension.

And emotional regulation? It affects nearly 70% of people living with obesity, but we’re just going to ignore that? I guess that’s something we’re supposed to toss out the window and pretend there’s no link at all.

As if trauma, stress, biology, food access, hormones, emotional regulation, mental health, chronic pain, cultural stigma, sleep deprivation, and a list even longer weren’t part of the equation?

They’re not curing obesity. They’re commodifying it.

Fruit shaming – let this be the break

If your entire business model is built on making people feel like they’re one apple away from failure you’re not a coach. You’re a fruit shaming peddler with a protein powder pitch and a Savior complex. Peddle your discount somewhere else.

If you’ve ever been told by one of these very coaches that hunger is weakness, or that fruit is the reason your body isn’t changing fast enough, pause. Ask yourself: Is this about my health or my fear? Is this guidance, or is it control? You deserve care. Not because you tracked everything right. Not because the scale moved. But because you’re human. And that’s enough. So if you’ve been carrying guilt for something as simple as an apple, lay it down. If you’ve been coached into fear, unlearn it.

And if you’ve ever cried over an apple, I see you. But it’s time to unlearn every lie they told you. We were never meant to fear food. We were meant to live. To trust ourselves. And never—ever—fear a damn apple.