I slipped into a habit I didn’t notice at first. My phone became a dinner companion. I’d sit down with a meal I’d taken time to make, and within seconds I’d be scrolling through something, anything, while I ate.
Yesterday, I went out to lunch and left my phone in the car. I sat down with my pasta and just ate.
The first few minutes felt strange. I was restless. My hands kept wanting to reach into my pocket for something that wasn’t there.
Then something shifted. My senses came back online.
The pasta tasted different. Not because the recipe had changed, but because I was finally paying attention. I tasted the sweetness of the tomatoes first, then the sharp bite of garlic underneath. The basil wasn’t just there. It was bright, almost peppery. The Parmesan had a rich, nutty flavor I’d missed before, even though I’d eaten this same dish many times while watching videos of other people eat.
The absurdity hit me.
What My Senses Were Trying to Tell Me
Without the pull of scrolling, my mind had nowhere else to go but right here. I noticed the texture of the pasta. I noticed how the heat softened as I chewed. Each piece had a little resistance before it gave way.
None of this was profound. It was simply true.
I realized I’d been eating for years without really tasting. I’d had meal after meal in a kind of sensory fog, where my body ate and my mind wandered somewhere else.
What surprised me most was how quickly I felt full. Not stuffed. Satisfied. My body seemed to notice the food and respond. When I eat while scrolling, I can finish a whole meal and still think about what else to snack on, as if my brain never got the message that I just ate.
The Cost of Split Attention
Doing two things at once during a meal doesn’t add to the moment. It cuts it up. Each part gets less of you, and the meal becomes background noise.
That lunch lasted maybe fifteen minutes, nothing special by the clock. Still, it felt fuller. I was actually there, not half there with a screen in my hand.
An Invitation That May Feel Uncomfortable
Try this for one meal. Any meal. Put your phone in another room. Turn off the TV. Just eat.
Eat like it’s the only thing you’re doing, because it is.
You may feel awkward at first. Your brain may itch for input. That’s normal. Many of us have trained ourselves to stay busy every second, even during small, human moments.
Stay with the discomfort for a bit. Notice what your food tastes like. Pay attention to texture and temperature. Notice how the flavors change as you chew. See if your body responds differently when you’re fully present.
I’m not saying you can never eat with your phone again. I’m saying that once you feel the difference, distracted eating starts to look less like convenience and more like loss.
Your food has been trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s time to listen.
