God’s Favorite Color

Our family lost a home in the Great Recession of 2008. Eight years later, we were living a simpler life – one that was leaner, greener and richer. What I didn’t realize was that in order to take the final step in healing, I needed to add the color purple to my life’s palette.

The heart mirror bracelet visited Paisley Park on Sunday.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! Today, I’m hitting “pause” on the regular schedule of “Living Like a Prince” blog posts to share a personal story. It’s my way of sharing some of my heart with you all on a day celebrating love, affection and friendship.

The bass is thumping, the club is dark and concertgoers are jockeying for position in front of the stage. As a young person, I would have felt right at home at Minneapolis’ legendary First Avenue, the nightclub where Purple Rain was filmed. But tonight, I haven’t been drinking, I’m with my husband of 15 years and our plans for later include making sure our kids get to bed at a decent hour. In a word: I feel out of place.

As Prince’s former band, The Revolution, takes the stage, a surge of energy lights up the crowd. Some instinctive part of me, apparently having been in a Rip Van Winkle-esque slumber for decades, comes to life. At first I tentatively clap on the two and four. Then I’m lifting my arms to the sky to wave them. Is that me, cheering? Muscle memory kicks in and soon I’m singing every lyric. I dance, and dance some more. Halfway through the show, The Revolution launches into the searing ballad from Purple Rain, “The Beautiful Ones,” and whatever discomfort I’d experienced has dissipated. What remains is the realization that the former strangers surrounding me feel more like kin.

The next morning, bleary eyed, I’m brewing coffee when something catches my eye. From our kitchen window, I see a purple balloon tied to our neighbor’s deck railing, blowing with the breeze. Hot tears pool in my eyes as I flash back to our family’s recent experiences. One thing seems clear: God has brought our family to the right place.

I didn’t always feel that way. During the Great Recession of 2008, our family got caught in the housing bust with a too-big mortgage on our dream house. We wound up selling at a loss and moving into a rental down the street. What should have been a tragedy for our family turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We started living leaner, greener and richer. We cooked at home instead of going out, rode bicycles around town and with the money that used to go to a big house payment, take trips and do activities together as a family. Out of financial necessity, I set aside my career as an author and went back to a full-time office job. In 2014, we were able to buy another home.

Mere months after we moved into our new home, my husband came to me with news of a job offer in Minneapolis. Before my brain could interject with concerns about the weather or another major upheaval, my heart said, “Minneapolis sounds good.”

That was how, in March 2016, I landed in the purple state of Minnesota, much like Dorothy falling out of the sky and crash-landing in Oz (this time, no witches were killed in the process). What I didn’t realize was that three miles down the road, my musical idol was living out the final days of his illustrious life.

In the 1980s, Prince Rogers Nelson had risen to worldwide fame, in the process achieving arguably the greatest run of creativity in the history of pop music. He took the proceeds from his 1984 smash album and movie Purple Rain and built a sprawling studio and recording complex in Chanhassen, a suburb west of Minneapolis. He called it Paisley Park. He’d invested his newfound riches in two things he held dear: his music and his home state.

On April 21, 2016, Prince died of an opioid overdose. Yes, we lived only a few miles from Paisley Park, but I had arrived too late to see Prince perform at his legendary compound. (The cry of “but I just got here!” wasn’t my first reaction to his death — although it may have been my second). Emotions came rushing in like a purple tidal wave. I’ll admit it: I lost my mind that day, a day our younger son recalls as “the day mom started crying and didn’t stop.”

Minneapolis radio stations played Prince’s music 24/7 in the wake of his death, and it became apparent that I had missed a lot of Prince’s career. By “a lot,” I mean nearly a thousand songs. While I’d been changing diapers and packing lunches, Prince had continued to live a life full of creativity and audacity and dedication, and he did it just down the road from me. What excuse did I have not to follow suit?

A persistent voice inside me insisted that there must be a reason that I, a writer, had landed in Chanhassen. Tearing open dozens of as-yet-unpacked cardboard moving boxes, I emerged triumphant, grasping my copy of Possessed, the one book I owned about Prince. I decided I should let the author know that I was in Chanhassen, in case he wanted to do an update and needed research assistance. Alex Hahn and I struck up a friendship, which grew into a partnership, as we started out on a journey to tell the story of Prince’s rise to fame. After having left my beloved writing career in favor of more practical paying pursuits, I was back in the game. This time I would be a biographer, with an insightful and generous writing partner. This was a small miracle as well as a tremendous gift, and it wasn’t the last.

As I listened to Prince’s early songs with their infamously provocative lyrics, I recalled my shock and delight hearing them as a teenager hanging out in my friend’s paneled basement rec room. Thirty years later, I was the parent of a teenager, and while “Purple Rain” was still a song about a romantic break-up, the image of purple rain emerged as a metaphor for the redemptive power of God. “I Would Die 4 U” could have come directly from Jesus’ mouth. Some lyrics of “Diamonds and Pearls” sounded a whole lot like God talking to Prince. And “When Doves Cry” was more than a heartrending story of Prince’s family life. Crying doves symbolize hope. Prince was sending us a message of hope. Could it be that all along, Prince was showing us that yes, you can have all those feelings of growing up as a teenager, and still love God?

As I explored Prince’s catalog, it became clear that what I’d noticed was no aberration. Prince had moved beyond the purely raunchy songs that had caused our parents to raise eyebrows or worse, ban us from buying 1999 or Purple Rain. As the years progressed and his fan base grew older along with him, Prince put on shows that fans could bring their kids to without fear of what might happen on stage. The tremendous adversity that Prince overcame in his dazzling rise to fame – including obstacles such as the entrenched racism of a music industry that separated artists onto either the “black charts” or “white charts,” and a difficult childhood that had him leaving home at the tender age of 12 — Prince’s personal and musical journey caused him to mature spiritually. He was still on that journey when he died.

One night, I stumbled upon a playlist for a monthly radio show that Prince had launched in 2000  (Prince had a radio show, in addition to recording 38 studio albums, rehearsing and touring? Did this guy ever sleep?). This show, which aired on Sept. 18, 2001, seemed to have special meaning and significance. In the wake of 9/11, many people were looking to celebrities to make statements, and Prince’s was a God-centered message of peace and positivity. The songs, largely unknown to mainstream audiences, included “Eye No,” “Love …. Thy Will Be Done,” “The Plan,” “I Wish U Heaven” and “Still Will Stand All Time.” Informed by his faith, Prince was sharing messages of hope.

In those first months after Prince’s death, you couldn’t go anywhere or do anything in Minneapolis without being reminded of him. Bridges were lit purple, Purple Rain played at cinemas and artists painted his likeness on restaurant walls or across buildings in gigantic murals. As brand-new Chanhassen residents, wherever we went – the dry cleaner, the tailor, restaurants, the grocery store — my husband and I made a hobby out of asking locals if they had a Prince story. It turned out to be a remarkably effective icebreaker as we explored our new town.

While Prince was widely acknowledged as the epitome of cool, he was also a regular guy who shopped at the hardware store, and who would get cravings for cherry pie from our local grocery store. My hair stylist had been a server at Perkins and would wait on Prince and his band when they’d come for pancakes on Sunday morning. A woman whose property bordered Prince’s recounted how she was invited to a bonfire where Prince played guitar with his back facing the fire. She had the impression that he kept his back to the others because he was shy. Others said they’d see him walking the shoreline of his beautiful, wild 180-acre property that ran between two of Chanhassen’s nine lakes. A Verizon salesperson fixing my phone shared that he’d appeared in “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World” video as a boy. (Only five years old at the time, he’d horrified his mother by boldly asking Prince, “Why do you wear high heels?” Prince had smiled and replied, “Because I can,” then spun on his heel and walked away).

Prince was more than a neighbor. He was a loyal Minnesotan who’d given many locals the opportunity to work at the highest levels of their profession, whether that was costume design or sound engineering. In many ways, he’d put Minnesota on the musical map, pioneering and promoting a style of music called “The Minneapolis Sound.” As a result, he was dearly beloved in his home state. I reflected on the virtue of loyalty, and Prince’s unusual choice to stay in Minnesota rather than decamp to a major cultural capital of the world – a choice that most newly minted pop stars would have made. It was a touching act of commitment and faith that made me feel an immense swell of gratitude for the opportunity in my own life to put down roots after a decade of upheaval and instability.

In the name of research, I struck out on my own to attend book signings, browsed at Prince’s favorite record store and went to concerts at a jazz club where they marked his former table with a purple flower. I found myself eating chicken wings with one of Prince’s childhood friends and then driving around their former neighborhood as he recounted stories of forming Prince’s first band together. Friendships formed naturally as I would bump into familiar faces at concerts or gallery openings, and I soon had a solid circle of friends. The people I met at Prince-related events were remarkably open and welcoming, and I quickly adopted the same attitude. One of God’s gifts is community and connection, and I marveled at the richness and diversity of my new friends, who were always up for seeing a show. Some say that Prince’s greatest legacy is his music, but I think it’s his fans. Of all of Prince’s talents, his greatest feat may have been bringing together people of all races, ages, backgrounds and creeds, and my gut said he was doing that with intention. Connecting with people who might be outside of my usual sphere lifted my spirits, brought joy and brought me closer still to God.

In February 2017, Alex Hahn and I published The Rise of Prince: 1958-1988. I like to joke that Prince made me an author again, and on publication day, my older son said he could imagine Prince calling to me: “It’s your turn! Get up on stage!” Through Prince, I had been given the opportunity to excel at my craft, as had many others before me.

Only God knows his favorite color – and of course, like his children, all colors are his favorite – but ask me what mine is, and I’ll tell you it’s purple.

Are You a Courageous Dresser?

Wearing sequins to a Minnesota Timberwolves game? Why not!

With 13 days of dressing the part under my belt, I’m starting to feel like I’m becoming a more courageous dresser. Adhering to my rules about no jeans, no loungewear before 6 p.m. (even when working from home) and not leaving the house unless I had done hair and make-up was rugged for the first week of the challenge due to our wow-this-is-how-winters-used-to-be weather. I wanted to wear was jeans, long underwear and big fluffy fleece hoodies and shuffle around the house in fuzzy slippers. But NO! I held myself to a higher Princely standard. It was a pain in the ass, to be honest. But it’s produced at least one positive: I’ve cranked out more work in the first one and a half months of 2019 than I did in the last quarter of 2018, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence.

The more I dress up, the more courageous I get. Tonight, I’m going to the Minnesota Timberwolves game where Sheila E. is doing a halftime tribute to Prince. I’m wearing a sequined jacket. Why not! Maybe I’ll blind the opposing team!

Consistency compounds like interest.

How to Dress to Stand Out

Andre Cymone, Prince and Dez Dickerson on Dec. 5, 1981 in Chicago. (Photo by Paul Natkin)

This experience of Dressing the Part has placed me — sometimes uncomfortably — in the position of dressing outside the norm of my environment.

Beyond the fact that I am going about my day wearing a mirror heart bracelet, there’s the fact that I am dressed up to the nines. Living in Minnesota, the climate is extreme. We have hot, humid summers and bitterly cold winters. We have hail, sleet, snow, ice, and torrential downpours. Despite the climate, people here are hardy souls and many are outdoor-sy. They love Minnesota’s lakes and they dress for the outdoors and head out in all kinds of weather. I admire that! That means that in the winter, it’s puffer coats and big snowboots and in summer, it’s shorts and a t-shir.

I finally wised up and turned the point of the heart toward me!

I’m not bothered that I’m dressing outside the norm. I like the way it feels to dress like this, and if it’s a bit more effort than wearing jeans, well, it’s worth it for the difference it makes in how I feel. I’ve been wearing dresses (no jeans allowed! #BecausePrince), vibrant colors, texture in the form of faux fur and suede, and shine in the form of metallic colored handbags and of course, the mirror heart. In the past, I’ve been guilty of “saving” nice things for a special occasion. But now I notice that my spirits rise when I take my nice things off their hangers and wear them. My closet isn’t a museum, after all.

One of my favorite parts of the Paisley Park museum is the hallway of photos of Prince and the evolution of his image. You see the 1970s era when he was photographed naked playing guitar on a bed (shot at Macy’s in San Francisco, according to Owen Husney’s memoir) to the 90s, when a lip-licking Prince covered in glitter is photographed wearing a gold Versace tank and sporting cropped hair, to the early 2000s, when Prince went glam rock with long flowing locks and huge hoop earrings.

Daring and extraordinary, Prince was never afraid to show the world who he was. I may not be as daring as Prince, but every baby step gets me a little closer.

You Don’t Have to Be a Rock Star to Have a Signature Style

Prince performs at his birthday party at First Avenue on June 7, 1984 in Minneapolis. (Photo by Paul Natkin)

Prince was a bold and daring dresser. Witness his choice of costume for his 25th birthday celebration performance at First Avenue in Minneapolis: He had no problem combining burnt out velvet and mesh with a leopard print guitar strap and topping off the ensemble with a dramatic gold necklace.

Prince’s style evolved over the years, but his love of dramatic lines, bold color and complex fabrics never changed. His clothing was integral to his rock star persona and helped him achieve his status as pop icon. If ever someone had fun with fashion, it was Prince.

I feel like a rock star wearing this outfit!
When in doubt, add a pom pom.

Prince loved symbols and wore dove, guitar, heart, peace and flower icons as part of his stage costumes before he evolved into using the Love Symbol in 1993. I love that Prince communicated through his accessories or through the fabrics of his clothes themselves, such as the Lovesexy blazers that had “Minneapolis” emblazoned on the lengths of the sleeves. Every day, as I put on either the mirror heart bracelet or mirror heart earrings to my outfits, I am surprised at how my spirits life. The heart emblem is now part of my own signature style.

After spending time in January stressing about fasting when things were rocky, I’ve resolved lighten up and have fun with dressing the part. After all, while Prince was a serious musician with the highest of standards, he flaunted butt-less yellow lace “Gett Off” pants and tunics from 20Ten printed with Debbie Guan’s sketches of him. He had fun experimenting with his style — and we should too.

Wearing My Heart On My Sleeve

Fasting saw me fumbling around at the beginning of the January, catching a stomach virus and getting tripped up by The Devil (also known as blueberry pie). But I strode confidently into February, feeling that I was born to Dress The Part. I feel confident that this is one challenge I will own.

I’ve launched into the first Monday of February wearing a blue dress with a long, dramatic cardigan and a wide belt tied in a bow. I love the color blue and after a month of Alternate Day Fasting, I’m at least a few pounds lighter. I can feel myself walking a little taller today.

The mirror heart bracelet is my constant companion this month.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve is proving a tiny bit cumbersome, however. I’ve worn the mirror heart bracelet while writing, cooking, driving — you name it. Conclusion: This is definitely a “stage prop” accessory that was not designed to wear for everyday use! Fortunately, Michelle Streitz makes fabulous mirror heart earrings, so when I stabbed myself in the hand with the point of the heart for the third time in a day, I decided that was my cue to switch to earrings. Even the earrings are quite eye-catching, and I noticed a few people doing a double-take at Costco while I was going about my appointed errands.

However, I was secretly bummed when this past weekend while shopping for groceries at Byerlys, two Prince fans walked by me (identifiable by their purple love symbol scarves) without noticing my earrings.

I bet they would have noticed the heart bracelet.

That’s when it occurred to me that wearing the mirror heart bracelet all day long would be quite a conversation starter. And to be honest, aside from the practicality questions, I’ve limited myself by my fear of looking outside of the norm. I don’t know any suburban moms driving carpool while wearing a heart mirror bracelet, but why not try it! I need to push myself to step into this.

Although I’m not going to the lengths Prince went to draw attention (I will most definitely not be going onstage in my underwear), I pushed myself to think long and hard about my reticence, and I realized that I feel awkward wearing an item in my everyday life that calls out, “notice me.” Purposely drawing attention to myself is one strange sensation. We Midwesterners are taught not to show off. But the particular Midwesterner I’m emulating never cared about blending in. So therein lies the rub!

I assumed this would be an easy month. Ha! After four days of Dressing the Part, I’ve learned another thing from Prince — never make assumptions.

Portrait of The Artist

Magic happens when Jimmi Toro paints Prince.

Can you feel Prince in this portrait?

If you can, credit the alchemy that happens when Salt Lake City artist Jimmi Toro spins paint on canvas into gold.

In 2018, Liz Malmquist of Salt Lake City commissioned this portrait from Toro. She says that Prince’s death hit her profoundly. Only months before Prince died, she had lost her closest friend. She was the same age as Prince and found herself struggling with her own mortality.

“I have loved Prince since before Purple Rain. He was beautiful. Just beautiful. I was more fascinated by his mind that was filled with so much music and lyrics. And his quiet life in many ways,” Malmquist wrote in an email interview.

Artist Jimmi Toro

Malmquist and Toro collaborated on the portrait and looked for photos together. Malmquist did not share Prince’s love of purple but rather, favored the color red. Toro found a photo of Prince wearing red on the cover of Portuguese magazine BLITZ, from July 2010.

Some of the images that Malmquist and Toro considered before settling on the one featured by Portugese magazine BLITZ in July 2010.

Toro began with a sketch.

“The result is stunning,” Malmquist says. “It takes your breath away. It really is something to be seen in person as it is almost tactile. I have never had a person not reach out to touch this painting. Young and old. The textures are both smooth and rough, the contrasts of this painting I feel add to the contrast of the subject. Prince was an enigma.”

Malmquist says, “I look at this painting every day. It has become more than art, it has become a reminder to live my life fully.”

She adds, “But as much as I admired Prince, I also admire Jimmi Toro. His quiet beautiful soul and his talent so multifaceted. The two of them would have had good conversations I think. I am honored to have this piece.”

“Prince seemed to never age,” Malmquist says. “He did towards the last photos of him but he will always be this, this kind of Mona Lisa smile and those eyes. He will always be one of the beautiful ones.”

Review: “Prince Was a Modern-Day Sage”

Do you consider yourself to be a student of Prince? According to Prince’s Friend and his new video released today called “Prince Was a Modern-Day Sage,” if you are a Prince fan, friend or fam, then by definition, you are a student of Prince.

Prince’s Friend steps out of his more typical interview format to offer a personal take on the influence Prince has on his life, at one point recalling how he transcribed Prince’s lyrics as an 11-year-old child in order to study their meaning (he doesn’t share which songs he transcribed, but one would hope it was more along the lines of “Free” and less “Let’s Pretend We’re Married.”). The result is one of his most effective videos to date.

I found myself nodding along to much that Prince’s Friend had to say, including his comment that dedicating oneself to a single goal (in Prince’s case, music) carries a steep price for other areas of one’s life. As I listened, visuals popped into my mind, including a memory of Morris Hayes speaking at Steve Parke’s book signing in Edina in September 2017. Hayes shared that Prince told him that he considered himself a writer first and foremost. And that my friends, gets to the heart of this video. Prince very intentionally shared messages in his songs. Those of us who resonate with those messages (and I include myself in this category) enjoy taking a deeper look at his meaning, his messages and his intent.

If you ask the big question of life, which is “how do we live?” Prince certainly had a prescription, which was love for one another, acceptance and respect. I would add: We must be bold. What looked a whole lot like rebellious teenage (or early 20s, as the case may be) behavior on Prince’s part is now better understood as Prince expressing himself. Whether by wearing bikini underwear on stage or writing “slave” across his cheek, Prince was bold about expressing himself and in turn, pushing people to open their minds, “as only a sage can,” in the words of Prince’s Friend.

In a sense, this video plays out as a welcome complement to this blog and my “Year of Living Like a Prince.” Prince’s Friend and I are each walking that line between admiring the message and making peace with the flawed human behind them. While Prince’s messages stand as proof of the power of the word, in his life, there was much that is not only not admirable, but also clearly should not be emulated. That’s okay with me. I can experiment with the great qualities and practices that made Prince a tremendous success, while looking at him in a clear-eyed manner. He was not a perfect person. Others may not be able to overcome that hurdle and discard the message because of the actions of the man. That’s their prerogative and I understand that as well.

One of the best parts of 2018 was watching Prince’s Friend and Darling Nisi step into the spotlight with Prince’s Friend and Muse 2 The Pharoah respectively. This video represents a major new effort from Prince’s Friend to delve deeper into Prince’s legacy.

Do you agree that Prince was a modern-day sage? Do you consider yourself a student of Prince? Join the conversation over at Prince’s Friend.

How to Win at Alternate Day Fasting

My new motto: Surrender, Dorothy.

After the bumpy fasting ride of last week, I needed an attitude adjustment and a Win, with a capital “w.” Granted, things had started out rocky for me. I had coped with a bout of the stomach flu during week two (I was pissed off, mostly because the virus struck on an eating day) and a couple of failures of compliance, most notably last week after a sugar binge. But I was determined to get myself on track and finish strong. As I myself have preached, fasting is a mental game. What I needed to do was reset my frame of mind.

I had studied Alternate Day Fasting inside and out, I had watched videos, I had followed someone on Instagram who’d lost more than 100 pounds and I had talked about it with friends and family ad nauseam. Now I needed to throw my brain into autopilot and roll with it. This weekend, I had a lightbulb moment: Instead of stewing about my small defeats, what I needed to do was stop overthinking and submit to the plan. (My name is Laura and I have a teeny tiny problem with being headstrong and overthinking things).

Two words came to mind: “Surrender, Dorothy.”

Surprisingly, this little mental reset worked and I had a great fasting day on Saturday. Creatively, I felt re-energized and was able to successfully crank out a 1,500-word magazine article about a certain purple you-know-who. Last night I stayed up writing until 10:30 p.m. and stopped myself only because I looked around and couldn’t find Andy and the kids, only to realize they were in bed! This is a revelation: Normally, I am a grumpy and exhausted zombie by 9 p.m.

Getting on board with Alternate Day Fasting has taken until the last week of January, but the effort has been so very worth it. I’m even considering continuing with the plan in February. I feel like I’m just getting started.

Who Inspires You?

Thomas Matson at work in the studio, back when photography was high tech.

This photo shows my great-grandfather at work in the Reierson Photography studio at 23 S. Pinckney Street in Madison, Wis., around 1916-1919. According to his World War I draft card, he both lived and worked at this address. Thomas Matson was born in Arendal, Norway and came to the U.S. at the age of 12. Thomas was 34 when he married Augusta Olson, a Swede from Minneapolis, which was probably not the most popular choice for a Norwegian, but I get the feeling that Thomas didn’t let the expectations of others deter his path. Sadly, he died of pneumonia in 1928 at the age of 40, leaving Augusta with two young children just as the country was about to plummet into the Depression. Fortunately, Augusta had a degree from the Minnesota School of Business that enabled her to get a good job working for a judge in Madison, thus saving the family.

A relative loaded this photo to Ancestry.com. Through the magic of Framebridge, I was able to have it printed and framed. Now it sits on my desk, where I get enormous pleasure from imagining Thomas using his creative talents in what was then a high-tech field. Do you have an ancestor who inspires you? Do you keep something of theirs as a memento?

Fasting True Confessions

I had a bad fasting day. A very terrible, awful failure of a fasting day. And what adds insult to injury is that the bad day I had on Tuesday created an even worse day on Wednesday.

Here’s how it started. On Monday, my husband and I had each had a long day. It was exceptionally cold in Minnesota and the feeling of wanting to hibernate on the couch under a bunch of blankets was overwhelming. He decided that the idea of having a beer was appealing. I decided to join him with a glass of wine. It was an eating day, so that was allowed. The glass of wine led to a piece of blueberry pie and no, I did not hold the ice cream. Again — eating day, and allowed.

I slept horribly and the next day, almost from the moment I woke up, I felt overwhelmed with cravings. My body ached. I was grouchy. My nose was stuffy, I kept itching my head, and I felt like I had hayfever — in January, in subzero weather. Around noon, my allotted two cups of Skinny Pop, my mid-day snack, became four cups. It was as if I couldn’t stop myself. Next thing I knew, I had disassociated from my body and found myself ferreting around in the chips drawer. After I blew it by eating chips, I decided I didn’t want my normal fasting day dinner so instead, I ate leftover pasta, which, let’s face it, is more carbs. That caused me to feel even more sluggish. I yelled at the kids. I was on a shame-and-blame rollercoaster and I tried to make it go away by eating chocolate.

Is it possible to have a sugar hangover? Is sugar an addictive substance? The Purple Guinea Pig is here to tell you: Yes, and yes.

Tidying my house was one unintended consequence of fasting. The second is that I am grappling with the fact that I have a sugar problem. I was shocked at how strong my sugar cravings were on my fasting day, after having eaten sugar on my eating day.

While scrolling through Instagram yesterday, a quote from Russell Brand popped up on my feed. He wrote, “If you want to see if something’s problematic in your life, see what happens if you withdraw it from your life.”

Whoa. That hit home. On fasting days, I remove sugar from my diet. I didn’t purposely remove sugar, but I don’t eat it because there is no room for sugary treats in a 500-calorie fasting day. When I added sugar back on my eating day, I was shocked at how sick it made me feel, and how much I craved more and more, even while I felt grumpy and sluggish.

Oh sugar, we had a long love story. But fasting taught me something I never saw coming. You and I are no good together. It’s official: Sugar and I are breaking up.