I talk to people whose bodies are their blueprint—athletes, founders, obsessives—who live by the gram but still chase joy. I'm curious about what it means to eat with intention when your body is your brand. What gets sacrificed. What gets ritualized. What still tastes good.

These aren't just conversations about food—they're about control, craving, and the quiet ways people make restriction feel like freedom. I want to understand how they live like this, and maybe help others find joy in it too.

Some people eat for pleasure. Some people eat for fuel. I talk to people who eat under pressure—because their bodies demand it. These are medical diets, not preferences. Celiac. Diabetes. Crohn's. PKU. Histamine intolerance.

The rules are strict, and the stakes are high. But even here, people find flavor. They build rituals. They invent workarounds. They create joy in spite of everything. I'm curious about how they do it—how they make peace with restriction, and how they keep food from becoming just another form of control.

I've been painting for ten years, mostly in bursts—messy, emotional, and full of color. I'm just now starting to practice again. I have a master's in computer science and a bachelor's in mass communications, which means I think in systems but speak in stories.

I used to work in principal casting for television, and I still care deeply about how people show up—on screen, in life, in their bodies. Four years ago, I got diagnosed with a wheat allergy that changed everything. I don't usually eat pork or beef, and I'm still figuring out what joy looks like inside restriction. I care about body image. I care about flavor. I care about the quiet ways people try to feel okay.

I love rock music. My favorite band is Def Leppard. I'm finally learning to play electric guitar. I can't really cook, and I don't try very hard—but I think a lot about food. Mostly because it's never been simple for me.