I Took a DNA Test and It Told Me to Stop Ordering DoorDash

I spat in a tube, mailed it off like a fan letter to science, and three weeks later I got a PDF that told me… I should probably eat a vegetable. Thanks, genome.

In 2025, self-discovery is less about therapy and more about sending your bodily fluids to a startup run by someone named Chad. We’re not just tracking our sleep — we’re blaming our ancestors for our snack choices.

My DNA report says I’m “sensitive to carbs.” So is my credit card, Chad.

Welcome to the era where even your chromosomes are monetized, judged, and sold back to you with a 14-day free trial.

🥬 Eat for Your Genes, Not Your Joy

Apparently, my DNA hates fun.

I got my “Nutrigenomic Profile” back and here’s what it told me:

• Avoid gluten.
• Avoid dairy.
• Avoid joy, basically.

My personalized meal plan is just three almonds and a glass of disappointment. It comes with a grocery list I’d need a Whole Foods rewards card and a personal assistant named Sage to interpret.

And the worst part? They send recipes like:

“Spaghetti squash infused with turmeric and fatty-acid-optimized oil blend. Estimated cook time: 73 minutes. Mood: regret.”

My DNA thinks I’m Gwyneth Paltrow. I’m just a guy trying to microwave Trader Joe’s gyoza in peace.

Pullquote: “My genes said kale. My soul said curly fries.”

🧬 DNA Dating: Swipe Right on Similar SNPs

I matched with someone who shares 4% of my genome. I guess we’re soul siblings… or cousins? Still unclear.

There’s a new app called GeneM8 that lets you date based on genetic compatibility. It’s like Tinder, if Tinder had a PhD in molecular biology and serious boundary issues.

I matched with a girl who shares my lactose intolerance and proclivity for seasonal depression. Romantic, right?

We compared polygenic risk scores over oat milk lattes. It was going well until her app flagged our combo as “moderate risk for conflict over thermostat settings.” She unmatched mid-convo. Brutal.

Pullquote: “I’m not emotionally unavailable. I just have a mutation on the OXTR gene.”

🛌 Sleep Like Your Genome Depends on It

My genes say I need 9.2 hours of sleep a night. My job says “lol.”

My DNA-powered sleep tracker told me I’m “genetically predisposed to be a night owl.” So naturally, I have a 7am Zoom call every day of my adult life.

I now start every morning in conflict with my own double helix. It’s a toxic relationship.

The app suggested blackout curtains, magnesium gummies, and a consistent bedtime. I tried all three. Still woke up with the grace of a dropped Roomba.

Also, my DNA sleep coach (yes, that’s a thing) sent me a warning that I’m “overriding my circadian rhythm.” Buddy, I’m overriding my will to live — one Slack ping at a time.

Pullquote: “I didn’t choose the night owl life. The clock gene CHRON2 chose it for me.”

💪 Gene-Based Workouts (aka Gym Class with Judgement)

My fitness DNA says I have “power potential.” I took that as permission to nap aggressively.

GeneFit told me I’m built for “explosive short bursts.” Sounds like a fitness thing. Or a tantrum.

Now every workout is tailored to my genomic potential. I get push notifications like:

“You’re 23% more likely to respond to resistance training than cardio. Skip the treadmill and squat like your ancestors did.”

My ancestors? They herded goats. I can’t even herd laundry.

There’s even a gym that only accepts members with the ACTN3 “sprinter gene.” I didn’t get in. Too much “slow-twitch.” Not enough clout.

Pullquote: “My genes said HIIT. My lungs said ‘absolutely not.’”

🍳 Protein Snobbery and Ancestral Macros

My meal app told me to eat “ancestral proteins.” So now I’m stress-Googling how to roast elk.

We’ve reached peak nutritional elitism. “Eat for your genome” is the new “eat clean.” I got a list of “compatible proteins” which included: quail, bison, and cricket flour.

Meanwhile, I’ve been living off lentil pasta and freezer waffles.

There’s even a subscription box: GeneBox™ — artisanal snacks that match your bloodline. I got a shipment labeled “Nordic Anti-Inflammatory Kit.” It was herring jerky and something called cloudberry extract. I cried while eating it. Partly from emotion. Mostly from salt.

Pullquote: “Apparently my Viking ancestors didn’t eat Pop-Tarts. Sad for them.”

⚡ Quickfire: “23andMe and Too Much Info”

• My DNA says I metabolize caffeine slowly. My third espresso says “shut up.”
• I told my mom I have a genetic risk for high cholesterol. She told me to stop eating pizza at midnight.
• My health report said I’m 18% more likely to feel lonely. I paid $199 for that?
• My DNA dating app rejected my saliva for “low romantic viability.”
• I tried cooking for my genome. Burned the quinoa and emotionally spiraled.
• My ancestry report said I’m 4% Neanderthal. That explains gym class.
• I’m genetically predisposed to need more B12. So now I take a supplement and still feel tired — just fancier tired.

🔁 Callback Crew

Let’s check in with our genomic hype squad:

• GeneFit: keeps calling me “explosive.” I think it means emotionally.
• SleepSync: thinks I live in a cave with zero alarms.
• GutGenomePal™: suggests sauerkraut more than any human should.
• GeneM8 (DNA Dating): where love is one recessive trait away from rejection.
• AdaptogenElf: not technically a DNA app, but aggressively involved anyway.

They all want the best for me… but they also want $19.99/month and access to my microbiome.

🎤 Final Thoughts: I Am Not My SNPs

We used to ask friends for advice. Now we ask saliva.

We used to guess whether a food made us bloated. Now we get a 47-page PDF with bar graphs confirming it’s literally everything.

Listen, if you’re thriving on DNA-based nutrition and sleep-matching — I’m proud of you. But some of us are just trying to survive the week with a functional Wi-Fi signal and a protein bar that doesn’t taste like soil.

Your DNA might know how to optimize your macros. But you know how to eat three slices of pizza standing in the fridge light. That’s ancestral too.

So yeah, I took a DNA test. And it told me to stop ordering DoorDash.

I didn’t listen.