
Originally published: 5 February 2024, 7:26 pm
Updated: 27 October 2026
Reading time: Approximately 5 minutes
Editor’s note: This article has been updated to include research published in 2022 and 2024 examining blood glucose, diabetes and cognitive health. My original experiences reflect February 2024. The additional research provides context and should not be interpreted as evidence that a seven-day sugar-free diet prevents disease.
I’d spent two weeks eating practically every sweet treat that crossed my path. Chocolate, biscuits, pastries and the occasional cake with my coffee. Nothing outrageous individually, but collectively enough to make me question my nutritional common sense. The moment I caught myself eyeing Cyrus’s unfinished chocolate croissant after the school run, I realised things were bad.
I wasn’t even hungry. I’d already eaten, but there it sat, looking perfectly edible. Throwing food away is wasteful, isn’t it? A convenient argument when you’re contemplating finishing your son’s breakfast. I decided something needed to change, preferably before I started inspecting the contents of his lunchbox after school.
There was another, more personal reason for this experiment. Diabetes runs in H’s family, and he’s always been careful about how much sugar he eats. He’s so much more disciplined than me, whereas I’ve been more relaxed about an occasional biscuit turning into three. Watching him take his health so seriously made me question whether I was paying enough attention to my own habits.
I’ve always enjoyed testing things for myself, which is how The Saffron Experiment came about. This time, I decided to attempt seven days without added sugar, alongside my usual 16:8 intermittent fasting routine. I wanted to see whether changing my diet would make any noticeable difference to my energy, concentration and cravings.
The first morning was miserable. I woke up hungry, grouchy and already starting to question my decision. Normally, I manage intermittent fasting reasonably well, but knowing I’d also forbidden myself the usual sweet distractions made breakfast seem more appealing. I wanted toast, and something sweet with my coffee and, more than anything, to stop thinking about food.
When lunchtime finally arrived, I had a steaming mug of bone broth and a handful of walnuts. They helped, although I can’t pretend they offered the same satisfaction as a warm chocolate croissant. Later, I concentrated on meals containing protein and fibre, with eggs and kale making an appearance. My plan was to eat around noon and again at 4:30pm, which sounded manageable until I found myself watching the clock.
By mid-afternoon, I felt exhausted. My concentration had disappeared, I was irritable and I also had a nagging headache. I couldn’t tell whether it was the change in diet, fasting, poor sleep or just not eating enough. Whatever the explanation, I wasn’t enjoying myself. I’d expected cravings, but I hadn’t anticipated feeling quite so preoccupied with food.
I’d assumed cutting added sugar would be straightforward. Stop eating cakes, chocolate and biscuits and avoid sugary drinks. Job done. Then I started reading food labels.
Rice cakes, ready-made lamb kofta and granola bars all needed closer inspection. Some contained added sugars, while others listed naturally occurring sugars. I spent an embarrassing amount of time squinting at packaging without my glasses, trying to work out what I could eat without breaking my own rules.
I’d estimated that my previous intake could reach around 18 teaspoons of added sugar a day. It wasn’t a measured daily average, but the possibility was enough to make me think again about my shopping habits. The NHS recommends that adults consume no more than 30g of free sugars daily, roughly seven teaspoons. That includes added sugars and those found in honey, syrups and also in fruit juices, but not the naturally occurring sugars in whole fruit or plain milk.
What surprised me most was how automatically I reached for something sweet. I’d finish a meal and fancy chocolate. I’d make coffee and instinctively look for a biscuit. By late afternoon, something sugary seemed like the only thing that would help satisfy me.
I tried chewing gum, walking at lunchtime and even distracting myself with household jobs. I even experimented with a pinch of Celtic salt under my tongue which I was told by H would help. It briefly interrupted the craving, although there’s no reliable evidence that salt reduces sugar cravings. The gym was a better distraction, giving me something else to concentrate on besides the contents of the biscuit tin.
Then there was the social side. School events, birthdays, family visits and coffee catch-ups all seemed to involve something baked, iced or absolutely covered in chocolate. I felt strangely awkward explaining that I wasn’t eating added sugar, as though I’d appointed myself the nutritional conscience of the room. I also disliked how quickly I began judging my choices. If I ate a biscuit, would I have ruined the whole experiment?
I began hoping for clearer skin, better concentration and energy. Instead, my early experience has been dominated by hunger, irritability and an uncomfortable awareness of how frequently I think about food. Seven days isn’t long enough to establish whether reducing added sugar has improved my health, and combining dietary restrictions with fasting makes it harder to identify what’s causing any changes.
Perhaps I need to take a leaf out of H’s book. He’s mindful of his family history without making every meal an exercise in self-denial. I want to understand my eating habits rather than spend my life worrying about them. In Iran, there’s a belief that eating something torsh, the Persian word for sour, can help curb sugar cravings. Think sour plums, tart cherries or pickles that make your eyes water. In our Persian home, reaching for something sour instead of sweet is hardly unusual. Whether there’s any science behind it, I couldn’t say. And I’m pretty sure fizzy sour Haribo cherries and cola bottles weren’t quite what the Persians had in mind.
It’s something I’ve explored in other personal challenges though, including my experiment with giving up alcohol before motherhood. Sometimes changing a habit teaches you more about your routines than the thing you’re trying to give up. For now, I’m paying closer attention to what I eat and how I feel. And learning to leave my son’s unfinished breakfast alone.
A study first published online in March 2022 found an association between higher blood glucose levels in middle adulthood and increased Alzheimer’s disease risk later in life. The research examined blood glucose measurements, not the effects of a seven-day sugar-free diet.
Separately, research published in September 2024 associated higher processed-meat consumption with increased type 2 diabetes risk. Both studies concern long-term health associations, not proof that avoiding sugar prevents disease.
Family history, overall diet, physical activity and metabolic health are all relevant to diabetes risk. Avoiding added sugar can be one part of a balanced diet, but it isn’t a guarantee against developing the condition.
Have you ever tried cutting out added sugar, particularly because diabetes runs in your family? Did you notice any difference in your cravings or energy, or did you spend the entire week thinking about cake? I’d love to hear how you got on.
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