Hey friend,
This is my mission: Showing you how to take control of your eating habits. Why am I the guy who can do that? Because I know what it’s like. I’ve been so far off the rails that I almost didn’t get back on track. I was forced to learn ways to get healthy, or else.
If you’re reading this hoping for a gimmick, I’m about to disappoint you. If you’re reading this, ready to be treated like a man (or a woman)—who can laugh at themselves, and tell the truth, then welcome.
I’m not your drill sergeant. I’m the idiot who ate three dinners in an hour and decided to stop being the joke. The next few posts will be about that journey out of a dark, grimy, binge-eating gutter, and back into the daylight.
I hit rock bottom.
It could have been while I was searching for that loose fry in the bottom of the first fast-food bag. It might have been when I promised myself, no more takeout, and then I still pulled into Wendy’s. It might have been after that, when I couldn’t seem to help myself, and I showed up at Arby’s drive-through.
Three meals in sixty minutes. Not “snacks.” Meals. The kinds that come in bags and talk to you with grease. Drive-thru #1 for a burger and fries, drive-thru #2 for another burger and fries, and then a quick stop for a different fast food chain.
I was bloated, angry, and so disappointed in myself that even my sweat felt ashamed. Then, home to take on a family-size chip bag like a raccoon in a garbage can. Spoiler: the chips won. They always won.
That night, I stared into the fridge like it owed me money. I wasn’t hungry. I was just empty in a way that food kept promising to fix.
It’s a scam. I wasn’t eating because my stomach wanted food—I was eating because something in my chest wouldn’t shut up. There was an anguish that lived in my guts, and the only thing that made it stop was being stuffed right full.
I didn’t want to keep living like that.
The thought hit me like a truck. “If I can’t fix this, I can’t keep going. It’s over.”
Let me be clear: this isn’t a delicate “I should eat better” moment. This was the total collapse, where I realized I was trying out for the role of “guy who gave up and ended his life,” and I was about to get the part.
I hated myself for being a fat slob who was ruled by cravings.
I WAS the cravings.
I wanted to disappear.
I had to change. Or else.
A couple of days before that night, I’d been “perfect.” Broccoli, lean meat, smugness. I bragged to my wife and sent her a food pic. A few days later, I face-planted into a pile of fries, burgers, nuggets, and hot mustard sauce.
That’s the cycle nobody warns you about: strict, stricter, strictest—then BOOM. The stricter you pull the rubber band, the harder it snaps your face.
I realized I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help.
But who could help me? I didn’t trust that chubby doctor of mine to have a clue.
My wife didn’t know about my problem. I was working on the road, eating in the closet.
So, I turned to my old friends: Books. And I found out that eating disorders are all about women. Books written by women, for women, about women. One of the books blamed ALL of women’s food problems on men and the patriarchy. That might be true. Definitely not helpful to a binge eater who happens to be male.
It made the problem even worse, because now I felt all alone with this problem. Left out loser.
Like no other guy had ever had an issue with food.
Bullshit. This is a human problem.
Men have terrible food relationships. But they never talk about it. They never even consider the addictions they are feeding with those fries and beers.
We all know that guy who can eat an entire pizza; we might even think it’s cool. But what if it’s a symptom of a hidden issue?
While I was searching online for help, I found an ad for a health coach. Her name was Carlie, and after a consultation that week, she became my lifeline.
Carlie supported me through the most challenging part of my life. If I hadn’t found her, I may not even be here today. Because life sure wasn’t worth living when I couldn’t stop myself from eating, and eating, and eating, and eating.
Being coached for six months started me on a journey that I’m still on. I’m not perfect. Food addictions and disorders are no joke; they don’t just dissolve. But because she gave me that starting point, that boost, and a common-sense plan to follow, I find myself years later healthier than ever. But most importantly, alive and happy.
I find myself a recovered binge eater.
I learned:
How to beat those food cravings
What really moves the needle and helps a guy lose weight
How much and what kind of exercise we really need (It’s not as much as you think!)
How to avoid or recover from 95% of the illnesses caused by modern life, like high blood pressure and diabetes
Step One: Get Help
People think motivation is a lightning bolt. It’s not. It’s what you get after doing the thing you said you’d do—over and over. Repetition. You don’t become a “fit guy.” You become a man who keeps promises to himself until the mirror has no choice but to agree.
And how do you do that? Outsource that motivation. Get someone in your corner who will support you and give you the tools and techniques for success.
If you can’t get started, if you don’t know what to do to get the ball rolling, then you need to get help. There’s no shame in it.
When a real man needs help, he asks for it. Plain and simple.
Maybe you just need a little jump start. Some straight talk, no-bullshit articles like the ones I publish here. If so, make sure you subscribe. We’ll build habits that make you good about yourself. We’ll build a body that’s hard to kill. And we’ll build a mind that is resilient enough to do the hard things you need to do.
But here’s part of that no-bullshit truth: That might not be enough. And if you know that’s true, get that help. I recommend a health coach, doctor, or personal trainer..
I have room for 5 new one-on-one clients next month. Answer this email or message me if you want details.
Stay healthy.
Getting your story out there will help others. Especially the men and others who think this is just a female issue.