You photograph food. A model reads it against your whole day — what you have already eaten, what your days usually look like, what you say matters to you — and returns a judgement, not a calorie count. Then you decide, and press one of two equal buttons: ate it or skipped it. Both are just data.

Photo estimates are ±20–30%; formulas for your burn rate are ±10%. A display reading "−847 kcal" claims a precision the data cannot support, and once you notice it is wrong you stop trusting the instrument. "About nine hours" carries the same information and is honest about its own resolution. It is also more visceral: a currywurst with fries is not a number, it is most of a working day on the clock.

Everything you eat goes on the clock and burns off at your hourly rate. The red area is what is still outstanding; the red dashed line runs forward to when it lands at zero. The ledger is continuous — midnight resets nothing, and an evening that does not clear shows up tomorrow as carry. Nothing is ever written off by itself: a feast stays on the clock until it is burned, which is how a big day is paid back by a lighter one. When more than a day of burn is on the clock you can decide to write it off to the scale instead — it then counts as weight gained and takes packets off the butter wall.

Zero is break-even, not permission — there is deliberately no green anywhere. Fat comes off only during time spent at zero: hours at zero × your rate is the entire calculation. Eight hours a day at zero is roughly a kilogram a week. The teal band marks that time, and only time the log can vouch for — a quiet log banks nothing, because not logging is not fasting. A genuine fasting day still counts: weigh in that morning and the ledger knows you showed up. Tap a teal band and the line under the chart reads the whole run out: when it started, when it ended, and how long it lasted.

The dial is today on a 24-hour face, midnight at the top, and the two hands tell the time. Red is time something was still on the clock, teal is time at zero, and light red is what is still to burn before the next zero. Nothing is drawn for the rest of the day, because it has not happened. The cream outer ring fills with protein toward your target, and your hourly rate sits above the hub. Hours at zero sit above the dial, protein below it, and the morning weigh-in goes in the box beside it.

It never forbids — it prices, in hours, and you decide. It never praises and never scolds: praise turns a state into something earned, and earned things get spent. There are no streaks and nothing to break. An exception is not a failure; it is a cost, paid off by the same arithmetic as everything else. The only real failure mode is the log going quiet.

Three activity levels set your rate for the day; sedentary is the default and the safe direction — the app understates your progress rather than flattering it. Exercise is never currency: movement lowers the curve but can never push it into credit. A morning weigh-in feeds two things: a smoothed weight trend (a record of the past, never a prediction) and, after a few weeks, calibration — which replaces every formula in here with your measured rate. Claim "trained" more than the scale supports and calibration quietly takes it back. The instrument becomes accurate by being used. The measured rate changes once a week, to the middle value of that week's mornings, so one salty dinner cannot move it; History says when it was set and when it next changes. A finished day keeps the rate it was priced with: an update counts forward, never back.

Fat that has come off, in 250 g packets of butter. The filled packets are what the scale confirms at your latest weigh-in; the packet in progress grows with the hours at zero since then. A packet is about 1,900 kcal, and the caption converts that into hours at your rate. The line below is the weight trend: dots are weigh-ins, the curve is the smoothed trend, and a tap on a dot reads that morning out.

Under the weight trend, History draws your measured weight running into a forecast: a solid line for the pace you aim for, inside a band from your recent real pace to a cautious case. Dots mark where the curves cross every five kilograms and your goal. It is redrawn once a week with the rate, so the weigh-ins in between land on a fixed curve. Turn the phone for the full chart, and drag across it to read any day. The weight in Setup is the one you want to keep. Normal eating brings back about 1.5 to 4 kg of glycogen, water and gut contents, so the diet stops about 2.5 kg lower on the scale; the shaded zone is where it has to land, and the date is a range from the fast edge reaching its top to the slow edge reaching its bottom.

Ten weeks at a glance. The teal fill is a day's hours at zero, the cream outline is its protein against your target. Tap a day to read it out.

Star an eaten item in the log and it becomes a favourite: one tap in the ★ sheet puts it on the clock again at the same portion, with no reading and no key needed. Typing in the ★ sheet also searches everything you have eaten before, priced as you last had it; a tap logs it now. Either way a short notice offers undo.

Tap the grams and hours at the right of a logged item to fix the amount after the fact: halve it, take three quarters, add half, double it, set the grams, or type kcal and protein directly. The hours follow.

The four-word phrase is the whole account: same phrase, same log, on any device — no name, no e-mail, nothing to reset, and nobody can recover it for you. Photos are never stored: they are read once and dropped, and only the item name, the estimate, the reading and your decision persist, on a server in Germany. A reading sends the photo to the model for the moment of the read; nothing else ever leaves.

Readings run on Claude, using your own Anthropic API key — paste one into Setup (get it at console.anthropic.com). It is stored encrypted, used only for your readings, and a reading costs about two cents, a menu about five; Setup shows what yours have cost. Everything else — the clock, the history, the projection — is free and needs no key.

Red is food still on the clock. It burns off at your hourly rate, and midnight does not reset it — what is left carries into tomorrow.
Teal is time at zero, the only time fat is actually coming off. Zero is break-even, not permission; there is no green.
Hours, not calories: a currywurst is not "1000 kcal", it is most of a working day.