I’m a Nutritionist. That Doesn’t Mean What You Think It Means.

Some use their powers for good. I hope I can continue to be one of those.

Meg Dowell
6 min readSep 4, 2018

I am not a doctor.

I’m not a personal trainer, a psychiatrist, or a nurse.

I am not a registered dietitian.

And yet, I write about diet and exercise and disease on the internet.

Because of my bachelor’s degree in dietetics, I am most qualified to publish information about subjects related to nutrition.

Therefore, I sometimes refer to myself as a nutritionist.

I dislike this word. But there is no better term to describe someone who provides nutrition information to an audience without the credentials to call herself a dietitian.

Unfortunately, even I am affected by the negative stereotypes associated with nutritionists. So much so that I avoid using the title whenever possible, instead leaning on others — journalist; health science writer; health communicator — to establish even an ounce of credibility when I publish a new article.

When I think of a nutritionist — because most dietitians will use the title they have rightfully earned when giving their credentials — I think of someone who is unqualified to give health advice, but does so anyway. Usually with the goal of making a profit off of a product or service such as weight loss coaching or a diet program (notice I did not say “meal plan” which dietitians are licensed to provide, and nutritionists are not).

I hope you already know that this does not describe all people who call themselves nutritionists. I have nothing against people who want to be helpful, as long as they’re going about it the right way.

But many don’t. They establish their credibility by self-publishing books, making YouTube videos, and writing blog posts with headlines like: “Want to Lose Weight Fast? 10 Strategies [Products That Are Paying Me to Mention Them] That Will Help You Lose 10 Pounds In 10 Minutes.”

Their bios sometimes include credentials — they’re “certified nutritionists” or personal trainers. But not always. Sometimes they’ve just been “writing about food” for a long time. Or my favorite: “I was miserable, but then I lost 20 pounds — and you can too!”

The problem is that many people try to use their other “titles” as shields when giving nutrition advice without actually calling themselves nutritionists. I have several good friends who are certified personal trainers, and I love them dearly. But there are trainers out there who think their certification qualifies them to tell people what to eat. Which it does not.

There are a few things that set people like me apart from these fitness bloggers and diet “influencers.” But I can’t speak for anyone but myself. So I’ll tell you where I stand compared to the internet’s worst offenders.

I don’t recommend weight loss supplements or diet plans.

I’m not trying to sell you anything — especially not a “quick fix.”

I will never tell you, directly, what you should and should not eat. I deliberately frame my content in a way that provides information about the possible benefits/effects of food without actually saying “eat this.”

I haven’t created my own meal plan, diet program, or book telling you how I think you should live your life based on what you eat.

I am qualified, according to the state in which I currently reside, to do exactly none of these things.

I think fad diets are misleading and dangerous.

I don’t believe people who aren’t losing weight are doing something “wrong.”

I hate modern “diet language.” Some people talk about healthy foods as if they’re secretly trying to kill us. It’s all about getting “skinny.” Losing fat. Good foods. Bad foods. I could go on.

So if I don’t have a certification or license, what does give me the authority and credibility to write about these subjects without crossing into “credentialed” territory? Not just my master’s degree in health communication, though that does help.

(I have to clarify that whenever possible, because I could not get a job writing about health until I had my MS. It matters.)

My only goal is to inform/entertain, and suggest resources/tools that will make people think, ask questions, and maybe even consider seeking help from a real professional.

And, in all honesty, I’m pretty good at it.

I use proper evidence to back up my facts. Not anecdotes or testimonies. I don’t believe that “this worked for me so it’s a good strategy” is a valid argument for anything — especially nutrition or fitness.

If I am unsure about something I have written, I reach out to a registered dietitian who is willing to fact-check me. I went to school with over a dozen of them. I trust their stamp of approval.

I’m also as sensitive as one person can be when delivering health information. I avoid using numbers whenever possible when talking about weight. I include disclaimers when a piece of information might be triggering to certain populations. I am very careful in the way I phrase things (using person-first language, inclusive pronouns, etc.).

I do my very best to address people’s questions about health. I cannot work with individuals directly to fix their problems. But I can address the masses. I can provide my thoughts.

Just because I am not qualified to give medical advice does not mean my knowledge — and experience communicating facts related to health — cannot potentially be useful to someone.

I’m trying to do this right.

No, I don’t have RD credentials after my name, and never will. Yes, I respect — and heavily rely on — those who do. I endured most of the education and training you did. I value your expertise.

You’re the ones on the front lines. I’m just the messenger.

Please don’t look down on people like me — those of us who are trying to combine our passion and knowledge to help others in the best ways we can — because we didn’t complete an internship or take a test.

I’m not on the same level as you where certifications and licenses are concerned. But I’m not hurting anyone adding my voice — with as much authority and credibility as my five years “in the field” allows — to the discussion.

Not everyone in my position will use the credibility they have earned to make doing what you do easier. And I’m sorry about that. But I can’t change them. I can only work harder to do what I do best.

I don’t have letters after my name. But I do have words. Words are powerful. Used properly, for the right reasons, they can make a positive difference. I hope they will, someday.

And to those using the title of “nutritionist” to sell ineffective products and services, give potentially harmful advice, and publish what’s popular and attractive for the sake of views … you’re making it harder for people like me to do the right thing.

It’s not that doing it correctly is hard. It’s that our evidence-based, potentially helpful voices can’t be heard over your loud and persistent carb-shaming, myth-spreading, diet guru rhetoric.

Thank you to those out there, like me, who are doing their best to spread positive, accurate, helpful information.

Thank you to the RDs who use their powers for good every day. I’m with you. Not in hospital rooms, outpatient clinics, schools, or community health fairs. But I’m here, reading, interpreting, and informing the public about your research and advice. Suggesting people see you for real help if they need it. Giving you the respect and glory you deserve.

Keep fighting the good fight. The only weapons I’m allowed are my keyboard and a complex understanding of how human bodies work. But it’s enough. For now. It has to be enough.

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Meg Dowell

Meg Dowell (she/her) has edited hundreds of articles and written thousands more. She offers free resources to writers to help launch and elevate their careers.