My carnivore confession

On failed experiments, two extra kilos, and why the body answers to fit, not force

Three weeks into eating nothing but meat and fat, I stood on the scale and watched the number creep up for the ninth morning in a row. My face was puffy. My belly was as bloated as ever. I looked like I had been living on white bread and jam sandwiches, and I had not touched a carbohydrate in twenty one days.

I had gone carnivore for a reason. My digestion had been the most stubborn case of my career, and the elegant, sensible approaches had not resolved it. So I took my chances on something that never quite felt right, because what felt right had not quite worked either. That is worth saying plainly: sometimes we try things that go against our instinct, not out of foolishness, but out of honest experimentation. I gave it a fair go.

An honest ledger

And in fairness, it did one thing brilliantly. The sweet cravings vanished. Completely. After years of understanding blood sugar in theory, I felt what it means to step off the glucose rollercoaster entirely.

But that was the whole list of benefits. My bloating stayed despite having zero fibre. My energy did not lift. My mood did not lift. My digestion did not settle. I gained two kilos in two weeks and held water like I was inflamed. It was also, if I am honest, a miserable way to eat, even temporarily.

The maths was easy. I cut my losses.

Three reframes

Here is where it gets interesting, because what we do with a failed experiment matters more than the experiment itself. I could have made it mean something about me. Practitioners are not supposed to have mysterious cases of their own. Instead, I chose three deliberate reframes.

The feeling of failure became: that was an interesting experience, and I now understand ketogenic and carnivore from the inside, not just the literature.

The doubt about my own healing became: this box is ticked. I am one step closer to resolving this.

And the whisper of impostor syndrome became: if my own case is the most mysterious one I have ever worked on, then I am well equipped to sit with anyone else's.

There is a time to feel disappointment and process it properly. There is no time for a victim story. It takes you nowhere.

From confession to conversion

Then synchronicity did what synchronicity does. A friend pointed me towards an expert in Chinese medicine and macrobiotics, and I found myself walking in precisely the opposite direction: wholegrains, beans, vegetables, seaweed, a little fish. Still no sugar, no coffee, no bread, none of the things most people would consider a normal life. I braced myself. I fully expected the beans to send me ballooning off to the moon.

Instead, I felt grounded. The carbohydrates I had been taught to fear gave me more energy, not less. The cravings stayed mild except when I am very tired, which is information in itself. And my PMS, which a few years ago could flatten me, is now barely a murmur. I would be lying if I said I do not dream of the day, a few months from now, when I can relax the edges and eat chocolate again, because chocolate makes me happy. But for now, this fits.

And when something fits, the body shows you. Those two extra kilos melted away without effort. No bracing, no pushing, no discipline summoned from gritted teeth. Given the appropriate food and care, my body simply began to detox on its own schedule.

The release beneath the release

What I did not expect was that the release would not stop at the physical. As the weight shifted, old relationship grief rose up for processing, and another layer of my ancient overgiving pattern peeled away. I supported the emotional work with flower remedies and homeopathy, old friends I have recently rekindled, and all the approaches deepened each other. It was not an easy fortnight. But on the other side of it I had released baggage I had been carrying for years, reaffirmed my own worth, and, tellingly, found myself paid more readily for my work. The inner shift showed up in the outer world, as it tends to. I love this magic.

Never the body alone

So, after so many years of experimenting and peeling back layers, I am more and more convinced that my digestive complaints originally stem from my limiting self beliefs. That is not to say the symptoms are not real, or that physical factors have not layered themselves on top over time. They have. But this journey has shone a spotlight on the anatomy of my illness, and I feel blessed to have experienced it in my bones, because what I have lived now informs how I support others. It is also why I never work with the body alone. I always include the mindset, the emotional blocks, and the energetics too. Any one of them can quietly hold your healing back.

Fit, not force

This is what I keep returning to. The body does not respond to force. It responds to fit. Release and healing are not a project you push through. It is what happens naturally when the food, the support, and the container are finally right, and the body decides it is safe to let go.

This begs the question: how do you find what fits you? You start by listening. And before you can hear, you need to quieten the noise in your head. Meditation, journalling, exercise, creative work. Everyone has their affinity with particular modalities. For me, it's yoga, visualisation, and meditation. What is your way of connecting with yourself? Find out and do it regularly. This is the first foundation of a life that feels aligned and vibrant. From here, good things come in more easily and synchronicity becomes the norm. I invite you to try it.

If you are sensing that something in you is ready to release, the autumn Detox of Becoming opens with an orientation on 20 September, and the detox itself runs 1 to 7 October. It is a seasonal container I hold with Sandrine Fuentes, NLP and hypnotherapy practitioner, weaving food, nervous system work, and the emotional layer of letting go, with an optional water fast for those who feel called. You can find all the details at fay-au-fait.com/detox-of-becoming or get in touch to discuss suitability.

And if this is the kind of thinking you want more of, you can subscribe to Staying au Fay — my monthly newsletter with practices and recipes.