The Health Blog
The Health Blog
I didn’t expect much from intermittent fasting. Honestly, I thought it was just another overhyped health trend. I’ve always been sceptical of “miracle” lifestyle hacks—especially the ones that appear in glossy magazines or are pushed by influencers with six-pack abs and suspiciously perfect routines.
But after hearing friends and colleagues rave about how they had more energy, better focus, and improved digestion, curiosity got the better of me. I decided to run my own 30-day fasting experiment, not as a detox, not for dramatic weight loss, but to see if there was actually something real behind all the hype.
What followed was a month of trial and error, unexpected insights, and surprisingly sustainable changes. This blog is my unfiltered account of that journey—the good, the frustrating, and everything in between. If you’re contemplating your own fasting challenge, this might just help you decide.
For context, I’m a reasonably healthy 34-year-old who works at a desk and loves carbs. My routine wasn’t awful, but I often felt sluggish after lunch, found myself reaching for snacks without thinking, and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just “off” in my relationship with food.
I wasn’t keen on counting calories or following rigid diet rules, but intermittent fasting felt different. Flexible. Manageable. Less about restriction and more about rhythm. It promised clarity without obsession — and that was appealing.
After some research, I settled on the 16:8 method — fasting for 16 hours and eating within an 8-hour window. For me, this meant skipping breakfast and eating between 12 PM and 8 PM.
I’d read that this was the most popular starting point for beginners, and it suited my schedule. Plus, it lets me enjoy dinner with friends or family without guilt.
The first few days were rough. Not going to lie — I missed breakfast. By 10 AM, my stomach was staging a protest, and I had to resist the urge to sneak a biscuit from the staff kitchen.
But I stuck with it. Drank water. Sipped black coffee. Took walks to distract myself.
“The hunger wasn’t unbearable — it was mostly psychological. I had to unlearn years of believing I needed to eat first thing to function.”
By the end of the first week, the cravings started to ease. My energy remained steady until midday, and I even found myself more focused during morning work blocks.
This was the week things started to click. Not only was I adjusting to my new eating window, but I began to notice that I no longer felt that afternoon brain fog that used to send me crawling toward caffeine or sugar.
My meals became more intentional — not perfect, but more balanced. I craved less junk, perhaps because I was eating fewer times and wanted those meals to actually satisfy me.
“For the first time in a while, I felt like I was listening to my body, not just reacting to it.”
I also found I was sleeping more deeply. Whether that was due to fewer late-night snacks or more regulated digestion, I’m not sure — but it was a welcome change.
Then came the real test: a birthday brunch. My friends were meeting at 10 AM — right in the middle of my fast. I didn’t want to be that person explaining their eating window at every event.
So I ate. I broke my fast early. And you know what? It was fine. I simply shortened the window that day.
That’s when I realised flexibility was key. Intermittent fasting wasn’t meant to be a prison. It’s a tool — one you can adjust around life.
Around this time, I also started paying closer attention to hydration. I’d been waking up slightly dehydrated — a common mistake during fasting. So I upped my water intake and added a pinch of sea salt on occasion to maintain electrolytes.
For a deeper dive into how hydration plays a vital role, especially while fasting, this guide on staying hydrated during intermittent fasting helped clear a lot up.
By the final week, something deeper had shifted. Fasting was no longer the experiment—it was the rhythm. I woke up without immediate hunger, moved through the morning with purpose, and enjoyed lunch without guilt.
But most surprising was the emotional clarity. I wasn’t just fuelling better — I was thinking more clearly and responding more calmly to stress. My mood felt steadier.
“The discipline of fasting created a ripple effect — I became more mindful not only about food, but about how I handled distractions, emotions, and even conversations.”
Here’s a quick rundown of the tangible benefits I experienced:
I didn’t overhaul my diet or suddenly become a meal-prep guru. I simply ate at the right times and listened more closely to my body.
I used to believe that breaking a fast “early” ruined everything. But life happens, and rigidity isn’t sustainable. Once I gave myself permission to adapt, I stopped viewing fasting as a win/lose game.
Before fasting, I panicked at the first sign of hunger. Now, I know that hunger comes in waves and often passes.
This small shift made a huge difference in how I manage both food and emotions.
That sounds dramatic, but it’s true. This challenge taught me resilience—not just in the face of hunger but also in my ability to commit to something unfamiliar, stay curious, and emerge changed.
Absolutely — though not rigidly.
I now follow a modified 16:8 schedule most days, but I’ll bend it for an early brunch, a dinner party, or a travel day. The point isn’t to fast perfectly—the point is to feel good, and intermittent fasting supports that goal beautifully.
I’ve also started exploring how to combine fasting with exercise to fine-tune the next stage of my journey. There’s still more to learn — but for once, it doesn’t feel like a chore.
If you’re considering your own fasting experiment, I encourage you to try it. Not because it’s trendy, but because it might help you reconnect with your body in a way few diets can.
Start small. Be patient. Let your body speak — and listen with care. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be present.
Because sometimes, the simplest changes create the most lasting results.