Imagine starting a wellness app in a world where "healthy" often meant obsessing over scales and strict diets—only to defy the norm and focus on something deeper. That's the journey of Steph Claire Smith and Laura Henshaw, and it's one that challenges everything we think about self-care. But here's where it gets controversial: Can true wellness really thrive without promising weight loss? Let's dive in and see how their bold choice played out.
Back in 2015, when Henshaw and Smith launched their health and wellness app, Kic, the industry was deeply entwined with trends like "clean" eating, programs aimed at achieving that so-called perfect bikini body, and even orthorexia—a condition where healthy eating spirals into an unhealthy obsession (for more on this, check out resources from universities like UNSW). For many young women in their 20s, including these two Melbourne-based models, wellness was all about outward appearances, no matter what was going on inside.
It was their own battles with harmful diet culture that sparked the idea for something different. 'I was constantly bombarded by thoughts about food and felt like I was always depriving myself,' explains Henshaw, now 32. 'Society tells women that our value is tied to our weight and body size. But we're so much more than that.' Smith agrees wholeheartedly. 'We built Kic from our own negative experiences with food and exercise,' says the 31-year-old mom of two. 'We ignored our bodies' signals entirely.'
As they developed their concept—from an e-book to the app—they faced pushback. Advisors warned that a wellness business couldn't succeed without weight-loss features. They turned it down. 'That just wasn't authentic to us,' says Henshaw, who recently welcomed her son Atlas. And this is the part most people miss: When your brand image is linked to aspiring to look like you, it's tough to break free from those entrenched ideas. Especially as role models for other young women.
Their app's first version was called Keep It Clean. While "clean" eating can simply mean choosing minimally processed foods, it's often linked to restrictive, low-calorie plans that vilify items like gluten or carbs. 'We need to be honest: As two size 8 white women accepted in modeling, we had a platform where people sought our guidance on health,' Henshaw acknowledges. 'That comes with huge responsibility when you're figuring things out yourself.'
'It remains an ongoing process,' she adds. 'No one I know has total peace with it. What helped was rethinking why we move or eat well. Your body is your permanent home—treat it kindly.' The problematic vibes around the name led to a rebrand in 2023: 'We understand, we take ownership. We grow, we adapt,' they posted online. 'We're on a mission. We're Kic.'
The app's growth, with over 750,000 downloads, mirrors their personal journeys. In the last 10 years, they've built a multimillion-dollar empire, dealt with burnout and boundary issues, tied the knot, started families, passed leadership to Jane Martino from Smiling Mind, struggled to fit in workouts, and questioned their contributions. 'What suits you today might change tomorrow, and that's alright,' Smith notes, aiming for at least a quick sunny walk and some breathwork. 'Wellness evolves with life's stages.'
Initially focused on activity, mindfulness, and nutrition, their view now embraces flexibility, self-assurance, breathing techniques, and mental outlook. The app has updated accordingly, adding holistic features like sleep support, confidence-building, focus tools, calmness exercises, mindset shifts, and goal-setting aligned with personal values.
Dr. Ben Singh, an expert in Population and Digital Health at the University of South Australia, points out how the wellness app landscape has transformed over the decade. 'Early on, apps were basic—think simple pedometers or static workout PDFs,' he says. 'Today, it's premium videos, tailored plans, sleek interfaces, and integrations with wearables. The pandemic accelerated this, as more folks managed health remotely.'
Combining wellness aspects can drive real change, Singh explains. 'Centralizing everything streamlines building habits—you don't juggle multiple apps.' His studies (published in journals like Nature) show these apps can foster long-term behavioral shifts. Yet, many fall short and lack solid evidence (as noted in guides from organizations like VicHealth). Watch for these warnings:
- Overly strict routines that label missing a session as failure.
- Promises of miracle diets, cleanses, or instant results.
- Vague sources for workout or diet plans.
- Tools that encourage overexertion, particularly for novices.
Kic stands out with useful elements like organized fitness programs and a nurturing community, per Singh.
For Henshaw and Smith, broadening beyond just fitness or meals to include confidence and value-driven goals has made wellness gentler and more empathetic. 'Without clear values, my objectives were scattered and unfinished,' Smith shares. Henshaw's focus on boosting self-worth reduced her need for external validation. 'My aims have shifted greatly,' she says, practicing short daily meditations. 'They used to be for others; now, they're for me.'
This shift eases the grip of image obsession, turning wellness from a visual standard to an internal sensation. 'We're incredibly proud that from the start, it's been about moving to feel great.'
But is wellness truly complete without addressing weight? Some might argue that fitness inherently involves body changes, yet others see it as an invitation to judgment. What do you think—should apps like Kic explicitly avoid weight loss, or is there room for it in a holistic approach? Share your thoughts in the comments; I'd love to hear if you agree, disagree, or have your own experiences! Meanwhile, enhance your wellness journey with our Live Well newsletter, delivering tips on health, relationships, fitness, and nutrition straight to your inbox every Monday.
