There are mornings where I just stare at the pot of rice on the stove and think, I can’t do this again.
Same texture. Same smell. Same everything.
That little voice kicks in — “Come on, Piersey… you’ve done enough. Just have something different today.”
And honestly? That voice used to win.
Back in the day, I’d cave, try something new, convince myself it wouldn’t matter.
But it always did.
Because that one “different” meal usually led to two… and then a week of “different,” followed by me completely off the rails again, wondering why I ever changed what was working.
Now, when that moment hits, I don’t change the plan.
I change the story I tell myself.
I remind myself that boredom isn’t failure — it’s proof I’m finally in rhythm.
That structure — that quiet, predictable routine — is what actually keeps me sane.
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Why Simplicity Became My Safety Net
For years, I lived in this loop of overthinking every meal.
I’d wake up and immediately open YouTube or Pinterest searching for new “healthy” ideas — overnight oats one week, egg muffins the next.
I’d tell myself I was being flexible, but really I was just lost.
Every new “perfect” meal plan made me more anxious and less consistent.
Now it’s different.
I wake up, stretch, drink my water, cook the rice.
No mental gymnastics.
There’s something peaceful about it — almost meditative.
I don’t have to make decisions anymore.
And that, more than anything, is what stopped the yo-yo cycle.
Because willpower fades.
But structure… structure carries you through the chaos.
I used to think discipline meant doing more.
Now I realize it’s about doing less, but doing it consistently.
When the Motivation Crashes — and What I Actually Do
I still hit walls.
That part never goes away.
Some days, I wake up foggy, drained, craving something fried or creamy — anything but rice.
The old me would’ve gone straight into panic mode:
“Maybe I need more protein. Maybe I’m missing nutrients. Maybe I should change diets again.”
But here’s what I’ve learned — those moments don’t mean something’s wrong.
They mean I’m tired.
That’s it.
So instead of scrapping everything, I simplify even more.
I ditch the extras.
No fake meats. No fancy sauces. No experiments.
Just real food that I can trust — rice, lentils, fruit, water.
Someone once asked if I miss Beyond Burgers.
I told them, “No, because I’ve read the label.”
And I wasn’t joking. You can barely call that food.
I’d rather eat something plain and real than something exciting and processed.
Every time I reset like that — back to basics, no noise — my energy comes back.
It’s like clearing my mental desk.
I mentioned something similar in another post about starting over clean.
The Quiet Rule That Keeps Everything in Balance
If I’m not hydrated, I don’t eat.
Simple as that.
That’s not some strict “rule” I follow with a timer — it’s just part of my rhythm now.
Because when I skip hydration, everything feels off.
I’ll think I’m hungry, but really I’m just dry, sluggish, foggy.
So within two hours of waking up, I’ve had about a litre of water.
But I don’t chug it.
I used to knock back an entire glass in one go — and end up bloated and confused about why I felt worse.
Now I sip slowly. Let my body actually absorb it.
It sounds small, but that little habit changed my digestion completely.
My meals sit lighter, my energy stays steady, and those random “snack cravings” pretty much vanished.
It’s funny — the things that make the biggest difference are usually the least dramatic.
When Boredom Hits, Don’t Run — Sit With It
There’s this weird phase that hits around week three or four of eating simply.
It’s not physical hunger — it’s mental boredom.
I’ll make the same bowl of rice and lentils I’ve made a hundred times, sit down, and my brain will say, “This again?”
That’s when I have to remind myself: boredom isn’t hunger. It’s a trick.
The body’s fine — it’s the brain that’s throwing a tantrum.
So instead of changing the food, I change the focus.
I take a second, breathe, and think about why I started.
I started this to lose weight, yes.
But also to gain peace.
To have structure. To stop overthinking every bite of food.
That pause — that tiny moment of reflection — is usually enough to calm the storm.
And honestly, when I eat anyway, that first bite reminds me it’s fine.
The food didn’t change — my mind did.
I said something similar in another post about food cravings and staying calm.
It’s like when you crave something “fun” late at night but wake up the next morning glad you didn’t give in. That’s the same feeling here.
Boredom passes. Results stay.
From Keto Chaos to Rice Routine: How I Finally Found Balance
I spent almost a decade bouncing between keto and carnivore.
Butter coffee. Bacon everything. Chasing ketones like they were magic.
And for a while, it worked — sort of.
I lost weight fast. I felt “sharp.” But it was temporary.
Eventually, I hit this wall of constant fatigue and anxiety around food.
Every meal was a math problem.
Every outing turned into a food negotiation.
I wasn’t living — I was surviving.
Switching to a rice-based, plant-focused setup was terrifying at first.
I’d been told carbs were the enemy for so long that spooning rice into a bowl felt rebellious.
But a funny thing happened.
I felt… calm.
No more rollercoaster energy.
No more guilt over every bite.
Just predictable fuel and mental peace.
Now, my meals are simple:
Rice for carbs.
Lentils for protein.
Fruit or orange juice for natural sugar.
That’s it.
No perfection. Just patterns.
I’m not following the 1930s Rice Diet with sodium restriction and hospital-level structure.
I’m doing my own modern version — plant-based, oil-free, high-carb, low-fat — but realistic enough to live with.
A teaspoon of salt a day, enough calories to feel strong, and zero guilt attached.
It’s not just sustainable — it’s peaceful.
I talked more about how switching from keto to carbs changed everything for me.
How I Stay Consistent When Willpower Runs Out
Motivation fades. Always.
You can start a new plan with fireworks and still end up dragging yourself through it a month later.
That’s why I don’t rely on motivation anymore.
I rely on structure.
Hydrate. Eat. Move.
That’s my rhythm.
Every single day, those three things happen — no matter what.
Even if I’m tired. Even if I’m moody. Even if life feels like a mess.
Because once you turn your habits into a loop, it becomes automatic.
I don’t sit around “psyching myself up” anymore. I just do the next step.
Water first.
Rice later.
Walk when the sun’s out.
It’s not glamorous — but it’s what keeps the weight dropping and my head clear.
I mentioned something similar in another post about keeping my daily meals simple and sustainable.
The truth is, success feels boring most of the time.
But that kind of boring builds peace.
And once your body and mind start craving peace instead of pleasure, everything changes.
The Real Secret: Finding Peace in Predictability
People assume the hardest part of dieting is restriction.
It’s not. It’s repetition.
Anyone can eat clean for a few weeks — the real test is staying calm when the novelty wears off.
I used to chase excitement with food.
Now, I chase calm.
Because peace doesn’t come from new recipes or cheat meals — it comes from not fighting yourself anymore.
When I stopped trying to reinvent my diet every week, I finally started making real progress.
And not just on the scale — in my mindset too.
These days, my entire process is beautifully dull:
Cook the rice.
Eat the rice.
Drink the water.
Go for the walk.
Repeat.
That’s it.
That’s the system that keeps me stable, both mentally and physically.
And yeah, it might sound boring — but boring is the backbone of transformation.
The truth is, staying on the rice diet isn’t about food at all.
It’s about surrender.
It’s about learning to live inside a rhythm instead of fighting against it.
So whenever I feel like quitting, I remind myself — I’ve already done the hard part.
I found what works.
Now all I have to do is keep showing up for it.
And that, right there, is the secret.
