Fourteen years after launching her recipe blog, Ella Mills has an honest observation: the wellness industry she once embraced has transformed dramatically.
What began as an inspiring quest to encourage people to cook more with vegetables has evolved into a sector that’s increasingly loud, expensive, and in her opinion, less effective.
“Wellness wasn’t a part of our everyday life back then,” she shares with Emilie Lavinia on The Independent’s Well Enough podcast, reminiscing about the early Instagram days filled with spiralized zucchini and the novelty of almond butter. “And now it’s a multi-trillion dollar industry.”
Mills believes the issue isn’t that people lack interest in health. Instead, modern wellness practices have become so convoluted that they often deter individuals from the essential elements of well-being.
While she recognizes the benefits and drawbacks of this evolution, she is concerned about the mounting pressures: the need to invest in gadgets, powders, and supplements; the tight adherence to stringent rules; and the obsession with optimizing each aspect of life. “We’re neglecting the basics,” she emphasizes. The outcome? “I don’t think the wellness industry is fulfilling its purpose.”
This assertion isn’t merely provocative; it’s based on statistics that Mills continually references: current vegetable consumption is at its lowest in the past five decades; over half of our caloric intake comes from ultra-processed foods; and the majority of individuals aren’t consuming sufficient fiber.
The paradox is stark for Mills. “How can the wellness industry be thriving amidst a collective decline in health? It’s profiting greatly, but I’m not convinced it’s enhancing people’s well-being,” she reflects. “It’s generating revenue, yet the question is: are we actually healthier?”
Founded in 2021, Mills’ Deliciously Ella started with a vision of optimism in the wellness space. “It was exhilarating,” she recalls, reminiscing about experimenting with crispy lentils or blending spinach into smoothies. “It was a community of sharing new ideas.” In those days, social media felt more like a platform for encouragement than criticism.
Fast forward to 2026, and a stark change is evident. “Now it’s incredibly complex and dogmatic,” she notes. “Everyone seems to be shouting from different corners of the internet, profiting from products that offer little value.” Wellness now feels more like a commercial venture rather than a genuine practice.
This shift brings significant implications. One day, oat milk is hailed as a miracle, while the next, it faces condemnation. One week, seed oils are deemed harmful, only to be reconsidered the following week.
“Whenever you tune into a podcast or scroll through Netflix, you’re bombarded with contradictions,” Mills explains. “It quickly becomes overwhelming, leading to a sentiment of ‘What’s the point?’”
This is crucial as the implications are substantial. Fear-driven narratives around chronic illnesses converge with an already anxious populace. “It often creates the thought of, ‘What on earth am I supposed to do? Everything is dangerous. It’s utterly chaotic,’” she observes.
Mills laments that wellness has strayed from the very practices that promote lasting health. “It needs to be more accessible, inclusive, and straightforward,” she asserts. “It should be about enjoying a delicious way to eat more broccoli, rather than focusing on doing everything perfectly.”
This philosophy underlies Mills’ perspective on New Year’s resolutions and why many fall short. “Health isn’t about a short-term fix,” she explains. “It’s about nurturing your mind and body for a fulfilling life over the decades.”
She suggests that humans tend to set unrealistic expectations. “We often overestimate what we can achieve in the short term while severely underestimating our potential in the long run,” she remarks. Bold promises like eliminating sugar or radically changing diets collapse under the pressure of daily stress or fatigue.
Instead, Mills advocates for what she calls “gentle habits”: small, manageable actions that don’t rely heavily on willpower. “Eating perfectly this week won’t drastically influence your long-term health,” she asserts. “However, consistent, small actions over time can lead to significant changes.”
This could entail adding just one extra serving of plants daily or enhancing familiar dishes by incorporating lentils or berries. “Imagine progressing just 1 percent closer to your goal each day,” she proposes. “While it may seem insignificant, over a year, that amounts to considerable progress.”
Importantly, these habits are designed to fit seamlessly into real life. “Life fluctuates,” Mills points out. “Days seldom unfold as planned.” Therefore, if a routine lacks this flexibility, it’s unlikely to endure.
Mills’ realism shines through when she discusses dinner—a time many well-intentioned plans tend to unravel. “It wasn’t about having the time to cook,” she reflects on her overwhelming moments. “It was about having the mental bandwidth.”
Her answer wasn’t strict discipline but rather a structured approach. Loose meal plans, shopping on weekends, and a clear idea of what’s for dinner make all the difference. “When you come home and think, ‘Great, I have the ingredients. This meal will be ready in half an hour. Done,’” she explains.
This perspective is embodied in her latest book, Quick Wins: dishes that are comforting, require minimal cleanup, and reduce friction at meal decision times. Take her “fancy beans on toast”: garlic, chili flakes, and cherry tomatoes sautéed, then combined with butter beans and finished with lemon, yogurt, and basil on toast. “It’s comfort food,” she describes. “It takes ten minutes, uses accessible ingredients, and makes you feel accomplished.”
Another favorite is a one-tray bake: peppers, red onion, tofu, and spices roasted to crisp perfection, served with rice and avocado. “Five minutes of prep, one tray, one bowl,” she notes. “This is where the deliciousness, simplicity, and nourishment intersect.”
Mills is clear that indulging in toast or ordering takeaway shouldn’t be viewed as failures. “There’s no shame in toast,” she insists. “However, enhancing it with nutritious toppings is more beneficial.” The goal isn’t perfection but rather streamlining choices to make healthier options the default, not something to strive for.
Mills has also observed the recent shifts in plant-based eating with frustration. What once emphasized whole foods turned briefly towards processed substitutes: bleeding burgers and complicated meat alternatives promising “normal” eating without meat.
“We never viewed that as a sustainable future,” she affirms about Deliciously Ella’s refusal to engage in this market. “We strongly believe in a diet centered on whole food ingredients.” Her rationale is simple: most people prefer not to eliminate meat completely; rather, they aim to inclusively integrate more plants into their diets. “Unless you intend to be entirely meat-free, consumers aren’t seeking to swap traditional burgers for artificial versions.”
I don’t think you can have a multi-trillion dollar industry that’s grown at that speed when we’re collectively getting more ill and say the wellness industry is a wild success. It’s making a lot of money. I’m not really sure it’s making enough people more well.
Ella Mills
As excitement waned, consumer confidence did too. “People began to realize these food items aren’t particularly healthy for us,” Mills explains. “If I’m not eating a traditional burger, I prefer a bean burger that offers its distinct appeal.”
This nuanced perspective is often overlooked in today’s discussions on ultra-processed foods, which Mills warns could create more anxiety. Apps designed for label scrutiny and rigid rules can evolve into obsessions. “Enjoyment in eating is essential,” she stresses. “If you’re constantly feeling deprived or compromised, it’s not a sustainable way to live.”
For Mills, food is only one element of wellness. Factors like stress management, sleep, and physical activity are equally significant—yet she prioritizes the unadorned. “Walking can dramatically impact your health,” she notes. So can community connections and rest—elements that are less likely to trend on social media.
Her daily routines reflect this practical approach. Breakfast is essential, even if it’s just overnight oats. Ten minutes of quiet time in the morning—sometimes employing breathwork or simply enjoying coffee—helps her navigate the day. She tries to avoid social media until after she’s organized the kids. “This really helps,” she shares.
When longer commutes made scrolling unavoidable, she didn’t abandon her phone; she altered her usage. “I switched from Instagram to Netflix,” she chuckles. “It may not seem inherently positive, but it’s been refreshing.” Watching a series, she explains, provides a restorative escape compared to the stress of incessant social comparisons. “It’s all about escapism.”
This self-compassion extends to her own mindset. Mills is cautious of the cultural tendency to push harder, optimize everything, and minimize rest. “There’s often pressure to avoid rest in favor of productivity,” she observes. “But once you’re caught on that treadmill, it’s challenging to remain present.”
If this approach sounds modest, that’s intentional. Mills’ ultimate non-negotiable isn’t a strict rule about diets or workout frequency; it’s a mindset: “It’s enough. Good effort.”
This notion of being “well enough” rather than perfect is at the heart of her philosophy. “You can always strive for more,” she points out. “Nevertheless, if you tell yourself you’re never doing enough, that detracts from the experience.”
Her advice for those facing a new year filled with resolutions is refreshingly straightforward: don’t attempt to overhaul everything. Make one small change and consistently return to it. “If there’s a goal you wish to pursue this year,” she says, “envision whether it’s something you could realistically engage with—not perfectly—but regularly over the next decade.”
If the answer is negative, she bluntly suggests: “Don’t waste your time.”
Ultimately, Mills believes the true wellness “hack” isn’t about constant optimization, but rather practicing consistency, embracing kindness, and nurturing the quiet assurance that you have done enough.
