She photographs her toast
The photo comes back broken into ingredients — wheat, butter, the sesame nobody would have written down. She deletes what is wrong, adds what is missing, and saves.
The list is a draft until she says otherwise. Nothing is ever saved unreviewed, because a wrong list that looks credible is worse than no list.
Lunch is one tap
It is the same sandwich as most days, so it is already in the list of things she eats. One tap. No photo, no waiting, nothing to check.
A child on a restricted diet eats the same handful of things constantly. Friction is what kills a food diary, and this is where most of it would have been.
Something starts
She taps how she feels overall, then the feelings that apply, then taps one again to say it is worse. Two taps and it is on the record, timestamped.
Three hours after lunch. On the day’s column that gap is a real distance you can see, because every empty hour is the same height as a full one.
The day goes to family
One plain message — what she ate, how she felt, each symptom with its own severity — to a Telegram group or WhatsApp. You see the exact text before it sends.
Off until you set it up. It is one of only two things that ever leave the phone.
And at the appointment
One button writes every meal and every check-in to a spreadsheet and hands it to the share sheet. Mail it to yourself, or give it to a doctor or dietitian.
eatfeel does not tell you what is causing anything, and is built so it cannot start. A pattern in a few weeks of data is a question worth asking, not an answer.