30 Days Without American Preservatives: My Body Changed Completely.

The easiest way to feel “healthier in Europe” is not the sunshine. It’s removing the American shelf stable ingredient stack and watching your hunger, sleep, and inflammation dial down without a pep talk.

This was not a cleanse. Nobody cried into celery juice.

It was a simple experiment with a very specific enemy: the American pantry logic where food is built to survive a road trip, not to feed a human body.

If you are 45–65 and thinking about Europe, you’ve probably heard some version of “people lose weight without trying.”

That line is half true and half annoying.

People lose weight because the environment changes. The default food changes. The portion cues change. The snacking culture changes. The walking increases. The constant low-level stress sometimes drops.

But the biggest lever, in our experience living in Spain, is this: you stop eating foods engineered to be shelf-stable, hyper-palatable, and frictionless.

So I tested it directly.

For 30 days, I cut what American kitchens treat as normal, and what Spanish kitchens treat as “why would you buy that?”

The result: less puffiness, fewer cravings, a calmer stomach, deeper sleep, and the kind of steady weight shift that does not require a personality transplant.

Also, I was grumpy in week one. Let’s not romanticize it.

What “American Preservatives” Really Means in Real Life

When Americans hear “preservatives,” they picture one spooky chemical.

That’s not how the food system works.

What I mean by “American preservatives” is the whole bundle that shows up together in ultra-processed foods: preservatives, stabilizers, emulsifiers, flavor systems, sweeteners, colors, and “natural flavors” doing a lot of heavy lifting.

It’s the ingredient list that reads like a lab inventory. It’s the product that can sit on a shelf for six months and still taste like something your brain wants more of.

The CDC has tracked how dominant this food pattern is. In August 2025, the National Center for Health Statistics reported that Americans ages 1+ got 55% of their calories from ultra-processed foods (August 2021–August 2023). Adults averaged 53%. That’s not a fringe behavior. That’s the baseline.

Spain and Portugal are not perfect food utopias, but the proportion is lower. Spanish cohort research has reported around 24.4% of energy from ultra-processed foods, and Portuguese dietary research lands in the same neighborhood for many adults. That gap matters because it changes what “normal eating” looks like.

The research conversation is also shifting from “one ingredient is evil” to “the pattern is the problem.” A major 2024 umbrella review found higher exposure to ultra-processed foods was associated with higher risks across multiple adverse outcomes, especially cardiometabolic and mortality outcomes. The quality of evidence varies by outcome, but the direction is consistent.

That is the frame.

This experiment was not “remove one preservative.”

It was removing the ultra-processed default.

And yes, if you take blood pressure or diabetes medication, a sudden change in sodium, carbs, and daily walking can change your numbers fast. That is not fear-mongering. That is math.

The Exact Rules I Followed for 30 Days

I needed rules strict enough to be real, and simple enough to follow without turning meals into a spreadsheet.

Here they are.

Rule 1: If the ingredient list had more than 8 items, it was automatically suspicious.
Not banned, but it had to justify itself.

Rule 2: If it included preservatives, emulsifiers, or “flavor systems”, it was out.
That meant the obvious ones, plus the sneaky ones hiding behind “natural flavors.”

Rule 3: No packaged bread, no deli meat, no flavored yogurt, no protein bars.
These four categories were my biggest “American default” foods when life gets busy.

Rule 4: No diet soda, no flavored sparkling drinks, no “zero sugar” snacks.
I wasn’t chasing sugar. I was chasing appetite manipulation.

Rule 5: Restaurant meals were allowed twice a week, but not fast food.
I wanted to test a realistic life, not monk mode.

So what did I eat instead?

Spanish basic life.

• eggs, potatoes, onions, tomatoes
• fish, chicken, lentils, chickpeas
• fruit, yogurt that tastes like yogurt
• olive oil, vinegar, salt
• bread from a bakery with a short ingredient list
• coffee, water, and plain sparkling water

The goal was not perfection. The goal was removing the industrial scaffolding that props up a modern American diet.

And here’s the hard part: I had to replace convenience with a system.

If you don’t build a system, you end up hungry at 5 p.m. and “accidentally” eating like an American again.

Week 1: You Don’t Crave Food. You Crave the Hit.

Week one was the ugliest week, and it matters because this is where people quit.

The first three days I felt weirdly unsatisfied after meals, even when I ate enough.

That sounds dramatic. It’s not. It’s withdrawal from hyper-palatable food.

Ultra-processed foods are built for repeat bites. They’re soft, salty, sweet, fast to chew, and easy to overeat without noticing. When you remove them, your mouth and brain start asking, “Where’s the easy dopamine?”

So I wanted snacks.

Not because I was starving. Because I was used to constant stimulation eating.

What showed up in week one:

• Headaches on day 2 and 3, especially in the afternoon
• A cranky, restless feeling after dinner
• Strong cravings for crunchy, salty, packaged things
• The weird sense that “nothing sounds good” unless it’s processed

Also, I cooked more. That was the trade.

I didn’t suddenly love cooking. I just stopped outsourcing my diet to food scientists.

Here’s the part people never say out loud: if you’re used to American convenience, the first week feels like punishment because you are doing more work for the same calories.

But then something changes.

Your hunger becomes calmer. Not smaller. Calmer.

By day 7, the cravings were still there, but weaker. The “hit” feeling faded.

And the first physical change was subtle but obvious: my face looked less swollen in the mornings.

That was my first “okay, this is doing something” moment.

Week 2: Hunger Got Boring, and That Was the Point

Week two is where the experiment stopped feeling like restriction and started feeling like normal life.

The biggest shift was that I stopped thinking about food constantly.

Not in a dramatic way, like I became a wellness influencer. In a practical way, like my brain stopped running an endless background tab.

This is what changed for me:

• I could eat breakfast and not need a snack two hours later
• My afternoon crash softened
• I didn’t need something sweet after every meal
• My sleep got deeper

That last one surprised me.

The 2024 umbrella review I mentioned earlier also found associations between ultra-processed food exposure and adverse sleep-related outcomes. That doesn’t prove causality for any one person, but it matches what I felt.

When you remove the constant cycle of highly processed snacks, your blood sugar swings tend to smooth out. When your evenings are not a parade of salty snacks and “zero sugar” treats, your body settles.

And if you live in Spain, your schedule helps you.

Lunch is real. Dinner is later. Walking is baked in. You are not driving from one errand to another with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on a protein bar.

The shocking part is how much of American “hunger” is actually habit.

It’s cue-based eating. It’s engineered food. It’s stress snacking.

Week two made hunger feel like a normal signal again. It became quieter.

That quiet is what people mistake for willpower.

It’s not willpower. It’s environment.

Week 3: My Gut Calmed Down, and My Skin Got Less Angry

Week three is where the changes felt less cosmetic and more internal.

Digestively, things just worked.

Not glamorous, but real.

My stomach felt calmer after meals. Less bloating, less heaviness, less “why does my body hate me today?” energy.

There are a few possible reasons:

• fewer emulsifiers and additive combos that can irritate some people
• more fiber from legumes, vegetables, and fruit
• less sodium and less snacking
• slower eating because the food required chewing

This is also where the psychological part hit.

When you cut ultra-processed foods, you lose the “treat” culture. In the U.S., treats are everywhere. You can buy a reward at any time, in any store, for $2.

In Spain, treats exist, but they’re less embedded into every moment of the day.

So I had to build a new reward system.

Mine became boring, but effective:

• a long evening walk
• a slow coffee outside
• fruit plus yogurt
• a square of dark chocolate that actually tastes like cocoa

My skin also changed. I didn’t suddenly look 25. But the redness and irritation that flares when I’m eating badly eased.

Again, no magic claims here. Just a pattern: less processed food, calmer body.

Week three is also where I noticed something else: I was less “puffy” even after salty meals.

That told me this wasn’t just weight loss. It was inflammation and water retention easing.

That is a very different feeling than dieting.

Week 4: The Measurable Changes That Actually Mattered

By the end of 30 days, here’s what I could measure without lying to myself.

• Weight: down 2.7 kg
• Waist: down 3 cm
• Resting heart rate: down 4–6 bpm depending on the day
• Sleep: fewer wake-ups, deeper mornings
• Cravings: dramatically reduced, especially for salty packaged snacks

Could some of that be walking more? Yes.

Could some be eating fewer calories because I removed snack foods? Also yes.

But that’s the point.

Removing ultra-processed foods makes it easier to eat fewer calories without tracking, because you’re eating foods with lower energy density and higher satiety.

You can eat a big bowl of lentils and vegetables and feel full. You can eat a chicken salad with olive oil and feel satisfied. You can eat fruit and yogurt and feel done.

Try doing that with a bag of chips and a protein bar. Your stomach might be full, but your brain will still be hunting for the “real” reward.

That’s why people regain weight in the U.S. even when they “eat healthy.” They keep the ultra-processed scaffolding, so hunger never becomes calm.

There’s also a systems angle here.

In August 2025, the FDA updated its public list of select chemicals under post-market review, including BHA, BHT, azodicarbonamide, and others, and noted steps to expedite review of chemicals like propylparaben and titanium dioxide.

This is not proof that every additive is dangerous. It is proof that the oversight landscape is evolving, and the list of “normal” ingredients in the U.S. is not as settled as Americans assume.

The brutal truth: if you want your body to change, you don’t need to find the one villain ingredient.

You need to stop eating like a food company is designing your appetite.

Why This Is Easier in Spain Than in the United States

People love to say “Europe has better ingredients.”

Sometimes that’s true. Sometimes it’s just branding.

The bigger truth is simpler: European daily life creates friction against ultra-processed eating.

Here in Spain:

• You walk more by default.
• Meals are more structured.
• Bakeries and markets still exist as normal, not luxury.
• Portions are often smaller, and snacking is less constant.

Also, the supermarket layout matters.

Spanish supermarkets have plenty of packaged food, but the cultural default still includes cooking. In many American households, cooking is optional and treated like a hobby. In Spain, it’s treated like basic adulthood.

And yes, regulations differ. The EU has a harmonized framework for authorizing food additives (Regulation (EC) No 1333/2008). The U.S. uses a different approach, with a mix of food additive approvals, GRAS pathways, and ongoing post-market review updates.

That doesn’t mean one system is perfect. It means the incentives and defaults differ.

If you’re an American trying to do this in the U.S., your environment is actively working against you:

• ultra-processed foods are cheap
• they’re everywhere
• they’re marketed as “high protein” and “healthy”
• they’re built for convenience and repeat purchase

In Spain, you can still eat ultra-processed foods every day, but you have to work a little harder to build your life around them.

That friction is protective.

It’s one of the most underrated health advantages of living here.

The First Week Plan That Makes This Actually Stick

If you try to “quit preservatives” by sheer discipline, you’ll fail by day three.

You need a first-week system that removes decision fatigue.

This is the plan I’d give any American reader who wants the same 30-day result without pretending life is easy.

Day 1, clean the obvious traps.
Remove or quarantine the foods that trigger automatic eating: snack chips, crackers, candy, protein bars, flavored yogurts, sweetened drinks.

Day 2, build your breakfast loop.
Pick one breakfast you can repeat: eggs with tomato, yogurt with fruit, oats with nuts. Repetition is your friend. Morning stability drives the whole day.

Day 3, choose two “default lunches.”
Make lunches that travel: lentil salad, tuna and tomato, chicken and roasted vegetables. Lunch is where most people collapse into processed food. Lunch is the lever.

Day 4, set a snack rule.
Only snacks that look like food: fruit, nuts, yogurt, cheese. If it comes in a wrapper with a marketing claim, it’s probably not helping you.

Day 5, cook one big pot.
Soup, beans, roasted chicken, anything that creates leftovers. Your future self needs a safety net at 6 p.m.

Day 6, keep dinner boring on purpose.
Dinner does not need to be a performance. Simple protein, vegetables, olive oil, bread if you want it. Your brain wants entertainment. Your body wants regularity.

Day 7, audit your sleep and cravings.
Not your weight. Notice whether hunger feels calmer. Notice whether you wake up less. Those are early signs you’re shifting away from the ultra-processed cycle.

If you do this for one week, 30 days becomes possible.

If you don’t, you’ll be back in the snack aisle telling yourself you just need “better willpower.”

You don’t.

You need a better environment or a better system.

What I Kept After Day 30, and What I Stopped Pretending About

At the end of the month, I didn’t become a purity person.

I kept what worked and dropped what felt like theater.

What I kept:

• Buying bread from a bakery more often, because bread should taste like bread
• Eating legumes as a default, because they’re cheap and absurdly filling
• Using fruit and yogurt as dessert, because it actually satisfies
• Keeping ultra-processed snacks out of the house, because I’m not stronger than engineering

What I stopped pretending about:

• That I can keep protein bars “for emergencies” and not eat them casually
• That diet drinks don’t affect cravings, because for me they do
• That restaurant meals are the problem, because my worst habits were always at home, alone, with packaging

Here’s the truth that makes Americans angry:

If you live in the U.S., your food environment is designed for corporate profit, not your health.

If you live in Spain, the environment isn’t perfect, but it’s less aggressively engineered.

That difference shows up in the body.

Not because Europeans have magic genetics.

Because the default life is different.