Back in my younger days, fasting was almost a hobby. I’ve done 16:8 fasting, 24-hour fasts, 36-hour fasts, 48-hour fasts and, once upon a time, even a full five-day water fast. Trust me when I say five days requires a special kind of stubbornness.
Looking back, it was hard, but it was also easier. I didn’t have children to feed, I didn’t have family dinners to prepare, and if I felt tired, headachy or emotional while my body adjusted, I could simply run a bath, climb into bed and spend the afternoon watching Netflix without a care in the world.
At 40, things are very different. One less hour of sleep, one indulgent meal, thirty extra minutes of exercise, and suddenly my body has opinions. Lots of opinions. The physical challenges are one thing, but I think the mental game gets harder too. Life doesn’t stop because you’re fasting. There are children to feed, lunches to pack, groceries to buy and approximately seventeen opportunities per day to accidentally eat someone else’s leftovers.
But despite all that, I couldn’t stop thinking about how good I used to feel after a fast. I’ve always struggled with bloating and inflammation, and whenever I completed a meaningful fast, there was this incredible feeling afterwards. Part physical, part mental. My stomach would flatten, the puffiness would disappear and I’d feel lighter in every sense of the word.
Now that I’m six months postpartum, I felt ready to dip my toe back into fasting.
Not a five-day fast. Let’s not get carried away.
Just 24 hours.
The rules were simple: water only. I know some people include black coffee, lemon water, electrolytes or herbal tea, but I wanted to do a proper water fast.
Why? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe because I realised how little water I actually drink these days. Maybe because I needed a reset. Or maybe because sometimes the best way to rebuild a healthy habit is to throw yourself completely into it.
Whatever the reason, I was strangely excited.
Preparing for Water Fasting
I decided to start at 9am. I treated myself to one last almond milk cappuccino because I’m realistic about my priorities in life.
I’m not a big breakfast person, but I did eat a protein bar beforehand to help ease the transition and avoid starting the fast with blood sugar already on a rollercoaster. At exactly 9:00am, I finished my last sip of coffee and started the clock.
One thing I’ve always loved about fasting is tracking it. Not because I can’t calculate how many hours have passed, but because there’s something satisfying about watching the milestones tick over. I use a free app called Fasting Tracker, and the best part isn’t the timer itself. It’s the explanations of what’s happening inside your body as you move through different fasting stages. For me, understanding the process has always been one of the biggest motivators.
Here’s How My 24-Hour Water Fast Actually Went
0–2 Hours: So Far, So Good
From 9:00am to about 11:00am, I completely forgot I was fasting. Work was busy, my calendar was full, and before I knew it, two hours had disappeared.
If you’re thinking about trying a fast, my biggest tip would be to choose a busy day. It sounds counterintuitive because you’d think you’d need food to get through a packed schedule, but I often find the opposite. When I’m focused, I barely think about eating.
According to my fasting app, this is the stage where your body is still working through its normal fuel supply, breaking down stored glycogen from recent meals. In other words, everything still feels pretty normal.
And for a brief moment, I thought, This is easy.
2–5 Hours: Enter the Hunger Gremlins
At around 11:30am, the first hunger wave arrived. Or, as I like to call them, the hunger gremlins.
One minute I was happily answering emails, and the next I was wondering whether 24 hours was perhaps an overly ambitious life choice. The funny thing about hunger is that it comes in waves. One moment it’s demanding immediate attention, and twenty minutes later it’s disappeared again. From what I’ve read, these hunger signals often arrive every couple of hours, and they’re a survival mechanism left over from a time when food wasn’t available 24 hours a day.
Meanwhile, I’m standing in my kitchen surrounded by enough food to survive a minor apocalypse.
By midday, I decided it was probably time to start drinking some water. I know dry fasting exists, but I could already feel the beginnings of a headache creeping in and wasn’t interested in making this challenge harder than necessary. I also came up with what I considered a genius strategy: carbonated water.
My logic was simple. Bubbles take up space. Space equals fullness. Science.
I drank a large glass and headed off to collect my son from school.
This is where fasting becomes significantly more complicated as a parent. My son wanted a snack, so I handed him a packet of dried fruit and almost absent-mindedly popped a piece into my own mouth. Not because I was hungry. Because I’m a snacker.
I’ve spent decades grazing. A handful of raisins here, a bite of toast there, finishing whatever the toddler leaves behind because somehow throwing it away feels wasteful.
My biggest concern during this fast wasn’t that I’d deliberately quit. It was that I’d accidentally eat something without thinking.
The real test came when I made my son peanut butter toast. Any parent knows the temptation: that glorious layer of peanut butter left on the knife, the little bit on your fingers. Normally, I would have licked it off without a second thought.
Instead, I stood at the sink washing perfectly good peanut butter down the drain and questioning all my life choices.
The hunger was there, but it wasn’t overwhelming. More like a persistent background notification that kept popping up and asking if I was absolutely sure about this fasting thing.
5–8 Hours: Headaches & BBL
By mid-afternoon, I wasn’t feeling quite as smug. The headache had arrived properly. To be fair, I had only consumed about three sips of water all day, which may have contributed slightly.
I kept telling myself to drink more. Apparently, my brain wasn’t interested in taking advice from me.
I had deliberately chosen this day for another reason too: I was booked in for a BBL treatment. The appointment conveniently filled about ninety minutes, which helped pass the time. Unfortunately, the treatment itself felt more uncomfortable than usual.
Was it because I was fasting? Was it because BBL simply isn’t the spa experience some people make it out to be? Honestly, I have no idea. Either way, I survived.
Adding to the fun, I was also fighting off a cold that my son had generously gifted me earlier in the week. Between the fasting and the chest congestion, exercise was definitely off the table.
Instead, I climbed onto my vibration plate for a long twenty-minute session. I know they’re not everyone’s cup of tea, but I absolutely love mine. Whether it’s reducing swelling, helping circulation or simply feeling like a full-body massage, it always leaves me feeling a little less puffy and a little more human.
8–12 Hours: The Dinner Challenge
Around the eight-hour mark, my fasting app informed me that I had officially entered what it called “fasting mode.” Apparently, my body had worked through most of its available glucose and was beginning the process of making energy from other sources. All very exciting.
Unfortunately, this milestone arrived at exactly the same time as dinner. And in my opinion, dinner is the hardest part of any fast.
Not because I’m hungry. Because I’m responsible for feeding everyone else.
I still had to cook, I still had to serve food and I still had to sit next to my toddler while he ate. To minimise temptation, I kept dinner simple: frozen mixed vegetables and lightly dusted hake. The irony was that I genuinely love this meal.
As I plated everyone’s food, I promised myself that tomorrow’s lunch would feature my own piece of fish as a reward for surviving the evening. Then my son decided he didn’t want his fish, which meant I had to package up perfectly good leftovers and put them back into the fridge.
The temptation was real, but somehow, I resisted.
12–18 Hours: Red Light Therapy & Rooibos
This is normally danger hour. Most evenings, once the house quietens down, I settle onto the couch and inevitably start snacking on something. Raisins, rice cakes, whatever happens to be nearby. This time, I needed a distraction.
Enter the red light mask.
If there was ever a beauty device designed specifically for fasting, this might be it. It’s remarkably difficult to snack while wearing one. Not impossible, mind you. I have successfully managed to eat through the mouth opening before, but difficult enough.
At some point, I abandoned my strict water-only plan and made myself a cup of rooibos tea. No caffeine, no sweetener, just something warm and comforting on a cold winter evening.
And honestly, it helped.
I was hungry, but surprisingly content. For the first time all day, I stopped thinking about food and started thinking that I might actually make it to 24 hours.
18–24 Hours: The Home Stretch
I headed to bed around my usual time but couldn’t fall asleep straight away. Not because I was starving. I actually felt a little wired.
By midnight, I was still awake scrolling on my phone and wondering why I struggle with sleep.
A mystery for another blog post.
Eventually, around 1:30am, I drifted off. My daughter woke me twice during the night, but each time I fell back asleep quickly.
In fact, I’d completely forgotten I was fasting. By morning, I had less than two hours to go.
The temptation for coffee was strong. Very strong.
Instead, I made another rooibos tea and focused on getting through the morning routine. Then came the peanut butter toast. Again. And once again, I caught myself halfway through reaching for the leftover peanut butter on the knife.
It’s amazing how many eating habits happen completely on autopilot.
I washed the knife, ignored my disappointment, dropped my son at school and headed off to do a few errands.
The finish line was finally in sight.
Breaking My 24-Hour Water Fast
If there’s one thing I’ve learned after years of reading about fasting, it’s that breaking a fast is almost as important as the fast itself. Over the years, I’ve followed a lot of fasting experts, including Mindy Pelz, and one message comes up repeatedly: what you eat after a fast matters.
I think this becomes even more important in your 40s.
In my twenties, fasting was mostly about weight loss. These days, my priorities have shifted. Muscle preservation, stable energy, healthy hormones and reducing inflammation have all moved much higher up the list.
The challenge?
I’m a coffee-for-breakfast kind of girl.
I know eggs are probably the gold standard when it comes to breaking a fast, but the thought of eating eggs first thing in the morning has never appealed to me. Coffee, on the other hand, feels like a warm hug in a cup.
So I decided on a compromise.
I broke my fast with a protein shake and a protein bar, giving me just over 50 grams of protein before lunchtime. Then, because I firmly believe achievements should be celebrated, I ordered myself a grande almond milk cappuccino.
After 24 hours without food, it felt earned.
I tried to be sensible and eat the protein bar before touching my coffee. Oddly enough, I found it difficult. After spending an entire day thinking about food, I wasn’t actually that interested in eating it.
The coffee, however, was glorious.
Some people have a love language. Mine appears to be almond milk cappuccinos.
About fifteen minutes later, my appetite suddenly woke up and realised food had returned. I found myself hungry again and wishing I hadn’t forced down the entire protein bar in one sitting.
Lesson learned.
Next time, I’ll probably eat more slowly and save some for later.
But overall, breaking the fast felt surprisingly uneventful. There was no dramatic feast, no uncontrollable hunger and no urge to empty the contents of my fridge. Just breakfast, coffee and getting on with my day.
The Results
Let’s get one thing out of the way: a 24-hour water fast is not a fat-loss miracle.
Most of the weight you lose over a single day is water weight and glycogen depletion rather than body fat. Because I’m documenting this experiment honestly, I stepped on the scale before and after.
My weight went from 59.1kg to 57.65kg.
That’s a loss of 1.45kg in 24 hours.
Do I believe I lost 1.45kg of body fat?
Absolutely not.
But something definitely changed.
My stomach was noticeably flatter, my clothes felt looser, my face looked less puffy and the swelling that I often carry around my midsection seemed to have eased considerably. For someone who naturally struggles with bloating and inflammation, that alone felt worthwhile.
Perhaps the biggest surprise was how I felt the following day. Despite only getting around five and a half hours of sleep, I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Not superhuman. Not euphoric. Just… good.
Calm, clear-headed and a little proud of myself.
And sometimes that’s enough.
Would I Do It Again?
Honestly, yes.
The experience was nowhere near as difficult as I had built it up to be in my head. If anything, the hardest part wasn’t the hunger. It was the habits: the handful of snacks while making lunch, the bite of leftover toast, the automatic finger lick after spreading peanut butter.
Those little unconscious moments where eating has become part of the rhythm of everyday life were much harder to navigate than the actual hunger.
Once I got past those, the fast itself felt remarkably manageable.
In fact, I’m seriously considering doing a 24-hour fast once a week for the next month.
Watch this space.
If I do it again, the one thing I would change is what I eat the day before. From everything I’ve read, going into a fast after a day of heavy carbohydrates can make the transition more difficult as your body takes longer to work through its stored glucose. A little more protein and a few fewer carbs would probably make the process smoother.
Would I use a 24-hour fast as a long-term weight-loss strategy?
No.
But would I use it occasionally to reduce bloating, reset my eating habits and remind myself that I don’t need to snack every two hours?
Absolutely.
What surprised me most wasn’t the physical result. It was the reminder that I can still challenge myself.
Somewhere between pregnancy, motherhood, sleepless nights, work deadlines and trying to keep everyone alive and fed, I’d started assuming that certain things belonged to a younger version of me.
This little experiment reminded me that’s not true.
No, I didn’t transform overnight. But I felt lighter, less inflamed and strangely empowered.
And if nothing else, it made that first cappuccino taste absolutely spectacular.
All in all?
I liked it.
Disclaimer: This article is based on my personal experience and is not intended as medical advice. I am not a healthcare professional, and this content should not be used to diagnose, treat or replace guidance from a qualified medical practitioner.
Fasting and dietary changes can affect individuals differently, especially depending on medical history, hormonal health, pregnancy/postpartum status or existing conditions such as insulin resistance or blood sugar regulation issues.
Always consult a healthcare professional before making significant changes to your eating patterns, exercise routine or lifestyle — particularly if you are pregnant, postpartum, breastfeeding or managing any medical condition.