Read this if you’ve broken a promise you made to yourself to stick with a commitment.
For two weeks in the early summer of 2016, I ate nothing but—clears throat—potatoes.
That’s right.
For 14 days, I ingested potatoes, water, and nothing else. No oil, no salt, no ketchup, and definitely no bacon bits. Just potatoes.
I did this half as a joke, half as a sort of thought experiment. If I could do it, then what would happen?¹
Now, I obviously don’t recommend trying this. But the whole thing ended up being as revealing as it was ridiculous. I've been on countless diets before and since then, from hyper-regimented paleo-keto-something programs, to a vague "I just need to eat cleaner" intentions. And this one, this ludicrous potato diet thing, was the one and only one I’ve ever stuck to without a single instance of cheating or slipping.
It was also surprisingly easy—even fun.
You probably wouldn't expect that. I certainly didn’t.
I pictured myself on day eight, emaciated, hair thinning out. Eyes sunken into their sockets, glaring at a cursed potato sack, musing maniacally—through the mental fog of severe protein deficiency—what it would take to nuke the entire state of Idaho.
But that didn’t happen.
On day eight, I was fine.
By then, I had down pat my little routine of roasting the little wedges just right—Yukon golds became my favs—to get that nice outer crunch and steamy-soft center.
By day 12, I had the giggly thrill of casually ordering a plain baked potato, no oil, no salt, no nothing, at an Irish pub, while my friends rolled their eyes and ordered their pints and burgers.
By day 14, it was simply done. Sure, I was happy it was over, yet I wasn’t pining for the misery to end. The first thing I ate that morning was a stalk of celery. It was nice. Fresh and juicy. A little fruity even. Huh.
Anyway, once the ordeal was over, I spent some time reflecting on why the experiment was so unexpectedly easy compared to my other diet experiences. Therein, perhaps, lay some nugget of Yukon Gold wisdom.
Here is what I realized: Eating nothing but potatoes for two weeks was easy because, rather than having to make a thousand judgements and decisions throughout the day with my typical diets, I had already made all the decisions on day 1.
In the past, I was inconsistent, not because the diets were too restrictive and difficult—and so I struggled with cravings and self-control—but because the restrictions were not clear and concrete enough.
Why it's so hard to stick to typical diets
Chances are you’re someone who wants to "eat better" and consume less junk food. That’s a good and reasonable intention. Strict, hard-core diets are hard to follow, so it’s better to offer yourself some latitude. Right?
Well, picture this: You go to a restaurant. Then, you’re confronted with a flurry of options—a conveyor belt of thoughts and decisions to make in the context of “eating better”.
Is fruit juice allowed? 🤔
Beer has carbs, but is that like sugar? 🤔
How about diet soda? 🤔
I've been good all week, maybe I can cheat a little and get a small Coke now that I'm at a restaurant... 🤔
How about some cake? It has blueberries which contain pro-oxidants… or is it anti-oxidants? Either way, I need that stuff to not die, right? 🤔
On and on, all night, your mind is nagged to make decision after decision after decision.
The problem is, as soon as you rationalize something once—Ok, a little dessert is fine—you set the precedent, giving your subconscious permission to do it again and again.
As the days go, the excuses pile up. Your rules and boundaries weaken and widen. Soon enough, you're back to your previous unrestricted eating habits.
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Isn’t that what life feels like 99% of the time?
Life is just a long string of decisions to make, judgement calls to weigh out, rationalizations and excuses to swat away like pesky flies. Like making a choice between forty-two types of toothpaste at the pharmacy—it can all get quite exhausting.
Compare that to my silly potato-diet. For that thin slice of my life, it was all so wonderfully simple and liberating. I had but one, easy, black and white, 1st-grade-level question to consider when it came time to eat:
[Holds up a bag of trail mix] … Is this thing a potato? No.
[Holds up an apple] … Is this thing a potato? Close but again no…
[Holds up a sausage] … Is this thing a potato? Nien!
[Holds up a baked potato] … Is this thing a potato? Ou! Ou! I learned this in Miss Spiegelman’s kindergarden class! It is, it is! Ok, into my mouth you go, Mr. Potato man. Mmm mm mmm.
So, what's the lesson, here? What's the “advice” we can extract from my ridiculous experiment?
When beginning any self-improvement journey, it’s crucial to do all you can to reduce the instances of decision-making in your daily life.
Decide once now exactly what your vices are, make it crystal clear, to avoid having to constantly make judgement calls throughout the day.
Decide.
You tend to procrastinate because, well, there is always tomorrow or later to do your tasks.
You also routinely grab at your vices in a haphazard way because, while you have the intention of cutting back, each indulgence can be rationalized as permissible for the day—and if you’ve already gobbled up today’s allocation, you could always “borrow” some of tomorrow’s.
So, at pretty much every moment of the day, you’re having to make decisions. Naturally, you need to knock all that possibility out of your mind. You need to establish some clear and concrete rules.
We begin by focusing exclusively on vices: What needs to go? What’s in and what’s out? What’s allowed and what’s not?
Take a second to write that down, if you haven't already, as part of setting your North Star.
Next, what aspects do you want to keep? Where do you want to find an ideal moderation? I like to allow for small, planned moments where I permit myself to, say, check Instagram or watch a show—but they require a predefined circumstance for it to be allowed.
For example, late night Netflix with your significant other could work as it requires the circumstance of you being with your partner in the evening.
Other examples could be twenty minutes to check the news and social media over your morning coffee. Or thirty minutes on Tuesday and Thursday nights to watch hobby-related videos on YouTube or streams on Twitch. Each of these have time-dependant circumstances, and you'll be using a friction-based screen-time limit to keep it contained.
Make it as clear and unambiguous as possible. Use as many metrics as possible. “Fist-size carbs at meals” is better than “less carbs.”
You’ll know you’ve done it right if the decision-making throughout the day has been simplified to kindergarten-level yes or nos.
Is this my vice? Yes.
Am I permitted, given the pre-set commitments? No.
Okay, then it’s a No.
The decision was already made at the beginning. Nothing to debate or compromise. So again:
Decide how you want to live once now, instead of a thousand times throughout the day.
Footnote
1 - If you’re curious, the idea came about while reading Penn Jillette's book Presto!: How I Made Over 100 Pounds Disappear and Other Magical Tales. It chronicles his weight loss journey beginning with his own potato diet experience.