Privacy

Your email address, because that’s how the sign-in link reaches you. And whatever you type into the app: your goals and habits, the names and colours of your slices, and the moment you tick something off.

That’s the list. There isn’t a hidden second one.

No analytics, no tracking pixels, no advertising, no location, no contacts, no device fingerprinting. Not even your name, unless you happen to type it into a goal.

The fonts are served by the app itself, so using Life Pizza doesn’t quietly call out to Google. The one exception is the sign-in email, which asks your mail app to fetch a couple of fonts from Google Fonts when you open it.

One: the cookie that keeps you signed in. No third-party cookies, no advertising cookies, nothing that follows you elsewhere.

Your browser also keeps an unfinished brain dump on your own device so you don’t lose it if you close the tab. That never leaves your browser until you submit it.

The database is Supabase, in their Northeast Asia (Tokyo) region. The app runs on Vercel, emails go out through Resend, the domain sits behind Cloudflare, and the AI features run on Anthropic’s API. Each one only ever holds the piece it needs to do its job.

They’re all established companies, but they’re outside Australia. Signing up means you’re comfortable with your data being stored and processed overseas.

Three things in the app are written by an AI model — Claude, made by Anthropic. Sorting your brain dump into slices. The idea suggestions inside a slice. The “Noticed” line on your analytics.

Here is everything those three send. Sorting: the text of the goals you just wrote, and nothing else. Ideas: the name of that one slice and the goals in it, plus the names of your other slices. Noticed: your slice names and how many goals you finished in each month.

Your email address is never sent. Nor is your account ID, or your name, or anything else that says which person this is — Anthropic receives a list of goals with no one attached to it.

Anthropic doesn’t use what’s sent through their API to train their models, and holds it only briefly for safety checks before deleting it. Still — whatever you type is what gets sent, so it’s worth not writing anything into a goal you’d hate a company to hold for a fortnight.

You, when you’re signed in. Nobody else.

Everyone’s pizza is kept in the same database, and every goal, slice and tick in it is labelled with the account it belongs to. Before the database hands anything over it checks that label against whoever is asking, and refuses anything that isn’t theirs.

That check lives in the database itself rather than in the app, which is the part that matters: it still holds if I make a mistake writing the app.

I maintain the database, so I can reach it for support or repairs.

Magic links instead of passwords, so there’s no password to leak. Encrypted connections everywhere. Ownership checks on every table. Keys kept out of anything your browser downloads.

Also honest: this is one person’s side project, not an audited system. Don’t keep secrets in it.

Until you delete it. There’s no archive, no backup copy sitting somewhere, and nothing kept after you’re gone.

Profile menu → Delete account. It erases your pizza, your slices, your goals, every tick, and your login record with your email address in it. It’s immediate, it’s permanent, and there’s no undo.

The one thing it can’t reach is an unfinished brain dump saved in your own browser. Finish it, discard it, or clear the site’s data if you want that gone too.

Ask me for a copy of your data, a correction, or a full deletion, and I’ll sort it out — hello@life-pizza.com.

A project this small isn’t legally bound by the Australian Privacy Principles, but I’ve tried to follow them anyway. If you think I’ve mishandled something, tell me first — and if that gets you nowhere, the Office of the Australian Information Commissioner takes complaints at oaic.gov.au.

Life Pizza isn’t for under-16s. If you think a child has signed up, email me and I’ll delete the account.

I’ll update this page and change the date at the top. If something significant changes, I’ll email you rather than hoping you notice.