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| The author cut his spending on DoorDash and joined a gym to get healthier. Courtesy of the author |
Working remotely from my home in Southern California, I used to rely on DoorDash like it was a life essential. Early morning meetings, late-night editing sessions, and every snack craving in between I had a food delivery for every mood, every hour, every excuse.
I didn’t think much of it. Ordering was easy, convenient, and comforting until the end of 2024, when my DoorDash year-in-review arrived.
I had spent a jaw-dropping $10,952.14 across 195 orders, averaging about $56 per meal. That moment was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I realized something had to change not just for my bank account, but for my health.
A Health Scare Forced Me to Confront My Spending
Ironically, it wasn’t money that first got my attention it was my health. Last July, I visited my doctor for what I assumed was a stubborn cough. Instead, I received a life-altering diagnosis: my A1C level was 14.9 an extreme reading, clearly signaling diabetes.
You’d think that would have been the moment I stopped ordering fast food and sugary drinks. But strangely, the opposite happened. Between January and June 2024 (pre-diagnosis), I spent $4,256.44 on 76 DoorDash orders. From July to December after the diagnosis my spending increased to $6,695.70 over 119 orders.
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| The author spent almost $11,000 on delivery food orders. Courtesy of the author |
Still, something did shift. I joined a UFC Gym on July 19, paying $158 up front, then $134 a month afterward. That gym membership became the first real investment in myself and unlike the food deliveries, it actually paid off.
By October, just three months after I started working out, my A1C dropped to 7.4. My doctor called it “almost at goal.” That was the first time I felt in control.
Where the Money Went and How It Added Up So Fast
Looking back, it’s easy to see how my food delivery habit spiraled. In February, I spent $79.68 on DashMart drinks Lemon Lime Soda, Guava Nectar, and a few sugary favorites. Two days later, I dropped $66.97 at McDonald’s on 20-piece nuggets, a McFlurry, and a Double Quarter Pounder.
March brought $61.86 to L&L Hawaiian BBQ. And then came a behemoth DashMart order snacks, chips, and more junk that totaled $243.94 in one go.
The only thing that changed in the second half of the year was that I started mixing in some healthier options. In August, I spent $46.15 at Sprouts on blueberries, hummus, and celery. But that same day, I also ordered from Island Hut ($59.05) and Wanna Chill ($56.87) for shaved ice.
Even in October, I was stuck in a contradictory cycle one order for grilled Atlantic Salmon ($42.82), followed hours later by dessert from King’s Hawaiian ($46.23). I wanted to do better, but I hadn’t figured out how to break the pattern.
When the New Year Hit, So Did a New Mindset
It wasn’t until January 2025 that I really got serious about change. I made a decision: no more random food orders, unless it was a special occasion. I committed to learning how to cook, grocery shopping with a plan, and saying no to impulsive cravings.
Since then, I’ve placed just five DoorDash orders, totaling $146.74. If I stay on track, I’ll spend less than $900 for the entire year a 90% drop from last year’s total. That’s a $10,000+ savings in just one year.
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| In 2025, the author spent under $150 on food deliveries. Courtesy of the author |
But the biggest reward has been my health. My most recent glucose report shows an average of 6.5% over the last 30 days a far cry from that terrifying 14.9%. My blood sugar is stable. My energy levels are consistent. And, maybe for the first time in my life, I have a healthy relationship with food.
Breaking my DoorDash habit didn’t just save me money it reshaped my entire lifestyle. I’ve stopped viewing food as comfort and started seeing it as fuel. I plan my meals. I enjoy cooking. I feel in control again.
Of course, I wish I’d figured it out sooner. That $10,952.14 is money I’ll never get back. But the experience gave me something more valuable than convenience ever could: a foundation for a healthier, more sustainable life.
