For years, Ryan Smith woke up heavy in more ways than one. His body carried over 280 pounds, but the real weight sat in his chest, a mix of loneliness, shame, and exhaustion. He’d been living in a quiet cycle of food, regret, and self-blame until a single phone call shook his world. His doctor told him his blood sugar was 300. Diabetes. That word hit harder than any insult he had ever heard.

He started imagining a future filled with needles, lost limbs, and a life cut short. Nights became the most challenging part. He’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling, scared to close his eyes. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he died alone, his body undiscovered for days? The thought clawed at him, convincing him that losing weight was the key to everything. If he could just be thin, maybe life would finally start. So he got to work. Driven by fear and hope, Ryan dropped 120 pounds in a year on a strict vegetarian diet. The transformation didn’t stop there. He enrolled in grad school, where he met Kim, the woman who would become his wife and the mother of his instant family. It felt like a reward after years of struggle. Love, marriage, purpose; everything he’d dreamed of was finally his. Or so he thought.

Ryan had been battling food addiction since childhood. He was the “fat kid” in gym class who dreaded changing in the locker room. Food was his friend, his comfort, and eventually his prison. Every time life felt too big, he reached for something to eat. Even after his dramatic weight loss, the hunger inside never disappeared. The body was more petite, but the pain was still there. When he and Kim married in 2003, life looked beautiful on the surface. But behind the photos and wedding cake, both carried emotional baggage they didn’t know how to unpack. Stress crept in, bills, kids, exhaustion, and food became their shared language of comfort. They joked about being “partners in crime,” sneaking snacks and fast food, even as guilt followed every meal.

Within a few years, both had gained hundreds of pounds. Kim, who had never struggled with weight before, reached for bigger clothes and avoided mirrors. She hated being the “fat mom” at school pick-ups. Ryan felt responsible, guilty that his habits had dragged her down too. Together they cycled through diet after diet, low carb, no carb, calorie counting, shakes, and more. Each time, they lost weight, celebrated, and slowly watched the pounds return. They became experts at what Ryan called “semi-successful struggling.” They’d follow separate food rules and then break them together, promising to start again on Monday. Every relapse came with more frustration and less hope.

Then, one night in 2017, everything changed. Kim stumbled across a book called Delay, Don’t Deny: Living an Intermittent Fasting Lifestyle by Gin Stephens. It was a random Pinterest find, but something about it spoke to her. The idea was simple: eat within a specific time window each day and fast the rest of the time. No complicated rules, no forbidden foods, just structure and self-awareness. She convinced Ryan to try it with her. Together, they committed to a daily clean fast and an eating window of three to five hours. Waiting to eat felt strange at first, but they noticed something different within weeks. The cravings eased. The guilt softened. And the scale began to move again, this time in the right direction.
The best part wasn’t the dramatic weight loss; Ryan lost 115 pounds, and Kim shed 95. The real victory was peace. They ate the same meals simultaneously for the first time in their marriage. Food no longer controlled their emotions or dictated their happiness. They started talking more, walking together, and rediscovering the small joys buried under years of dieting and self-doubt.

Intermittent fasting didn’t just change their bodies; it changed their relationship. They stopped hiding behind food and started confronting what they’d avoided for years, the emotions that had driven their eating in the first place. They learned how to handle stress without reaching for the fridge, enjoy food without obsession, and forgive themselves for the years lost in guilt. Ryan and Kim say their lives are built on freedom, freedom from calorie counting, fear, and the lie that thinness equals happiness. They still love food, but now it’s a joy, not a crutch. They cook, laugh, and eat together during their shared window, savoring every bite.

They even wrote a book, Unbelievable Freedom: How We Transformed Our Health and Happiness with Intermittent Fasting, to share what they’ve learned. Their story isn’t perfect or polished; it’s real. It’s about two people who faced the darkness, found each other, and decided they were worth saving. Today, Ryan no longer fears going to sleep. He wakes up lighter in every sense of the word, next to the woman who helped him fight for his life. Together, they’ve proven that freedom doesn’t come from food or a number on a scale, but from the quiet courage to keep going.




