Weighing in on the joe wicks upf headlines

Let me start by saying this: I’m a fan of Joe Wicks. I really am. During those strange, uncertain days of lockdown, PE with Joe became a lifeline for so many families, mine included. His energy, his genuine enthusiasm for getting children moving, and his mission to make healthy eating accessible and uncomplicated has helped countless parents navigate the often overwhelming world of feeding their families.

I’ve used his recipes myself when my children were small (note the creamy cheese butternut squash pasta being devoured by my 18 month old son in the photo), grateful for the simplicity and passionate approach to nutrition.

So when I watched his recent documentary on ultra-processed foods (UPFs), I found myself in an uncomfortable position. Not because I disagree with the science around UPFs or the importance of nutrition education, but because of something I’ve witnessed repeatedly throughout my career as a former children’s mental health nurse specialising in eating disorders, and now in my current niche- knowing that this will be yet another pressure on working parents with perfectionist ideals to ‘do better’.

In my years working with young people struggling with eating disorders, I’ve sat across from countless teenagers who have become trapped by rigid food rules. These aren’t the balanced, flexible guidelines we might hope for-they’re unbending laws that dictate every morsel that passes their lips. “Good” foods versus “bad” foods. “Safe” foods versus “dangerous” ones. The anxiety that comes when these rules are challenged can be overwhelming.

But here’s what often gets overlooked: it’s not just the young people. Their parents arrive in clinics exhausted, anxious, and desperately trying to “do things right.” Very often high achieving parents themselves, who are already privy to the standards of eating ‘well’. The weight of perfectionism sits heavily on their shoulders too, and I do wonder how Joe’s recent message will impact parents’ ability to follow the NICE recommended guidance for children in recovery from an eating disorder (here’s a clue… there’s no room for UPF concerns in a dietary plan for weight restoration).

This is where my worry sits with shock-factor documentaries about food, no matter how well-intentioned. When we present foods as categorically “good” or “bad,” we risk creating exactly the kind of rigid, anxiety-inducing rules that I have seen playing out in eating disorder services.
Children are listening. They’re absorbing these messages. For some, particularly those already predisposed to anxiety or perfectionist thinking, these stark warnings about UPFs can become another source of worry. Will the sandwich their parent packed for lunch harm them? Should they refuse the birthday cake at their friend’s party? What happens if they accidentally eat something “bad”?

And parents-already juggling so much-are handed yet another rule to follow, another way they might be “failing” their children. The parent who grabs a packaged sandwich on a chaotic morning, who says yes to the cereal their child will actually eat without a fight, who sometimes relies on convenience foods to get through the week-they’re now left wondering if they’re causing harm.

Here’s what gets lost in the black-and-white narrative: context matters. A child’s relationship with food, their mental health around eating, and their family’s stress levels matter just as much as the nutritional content of their meals. I’m not arguing against education about nutrition or the genuine concerns about ultra-processed foods. But I am advocating for a more nuanced conversation-one that doesn’t inadvertently create food anxiety or add to the already substantial mental load of parenting.

We need to be asking ourselves: what is the cost of shock-factor messaging? For the child who develops anxiety around food, or the parent who spirals into guilt and overwhelm, are we actually improving health outcomes? Or are we potentially trading one health concern for another?

Food should nourish us, yes. But mealtimes should also be a place of connection, flexibility, and-dare I say it-sometimes ease. We can educate without catastrophising. We can encourage better choices without creating rigid rules. We can acknowledge that sometimes good enough parenting includes convenience foods, and that’s okay.

Joe Wicks has done tremendous good in making movement and nutrition accessible. My hope is that as we continue these important conversations about food and health, we can do so in a way that supports both physical and mental wellbeing-for children and their parents alike.
Because at the end of the day, a child who eats with joy and without anxiety, whose parents feel confident rather than criticised, is also a picture of health worth protecting.