Unfortunately, diet is 75 or 80 percent of trying to get in

When Colton Haynes declared, “Unfortunately, diet is 75 or 80 percent of trying to get in shape, so you do have to try to cut the carbs. The diet's a huge part! I'm from Kansas, so I love ranch dressing and McDonald's. When I'm working, I have to stay away from all that!” — he spoke with the honesty of one who has walked the battlefield between desire and discipline. Beneath the humor of his words lies a truth that echoes through the ages: that mastery over the body begins not in the gym, but in the temple of the mind and the habits of the table. For man’s greatest struggle has never been against iron weights or running tracks, but against the cravings that dwell within his own heart.

The origin of his wisdom comes not from theory, but from experience — from the long road of transformation that every artist, warrior, or athlete must tread. Colton, raised amidst the hearty pleasures of Midwestern comfort, speaks for all who have known the pull of the familiar — the foods of childhood, the flavors of ease. Yet as he stepped into the world of film and performance, he learned a hard but timeless lesson: that sacrifice is the price of excellence. To “stay away” from what one loves is not an act of punishment, but of purpose. In those words, we hear the ancient voice of the Stoics, who taught that strength is born from restraint, and that no man can lead others who cannot first rule himself.

His confession that diet is 75 or 80 percent of getting in shape reveals the ancient balance between form and fuel — the same balance known to the athletes of Olympia, to the samurai of Japan, to the monks of the Shaolin temples. They all understood what Colton now affirms: that the body becomes what it consumes. The sculptor cannot shape marble if his tools are dull; likewise, the soul cannot dwell in a body weakened by indulgence. Food is the foundation of form, and as the foundation, it determines all that rises above it. The modern man may lift, run, and sweat, but if he feeds on disorder, he will never find harmony.

Consider the example of Pythagoras, the philosopher who forbade his students from gluttony. He taught that clarity of thought and agility of body were born from purity of diet. “The stomach,” he said, “is the seat of storms.” And so his disciples ate with reverence — not as a matter of vanity, but of virtue. Colton’s words, though wrapped in the language of celebrity fitness, echo this same principle. To cut the carbs, to resist the fast foods of habit, is to do battle with the self — not for appearance, but for mastery. The victory is not won in public but in silence, in the quiet moment when one says “no” to the lesser and “yes” to the greater.

In speaking of his love for ranch dressing and McDonald’s, Colton touches upon the most human of truths: that pleasure, though sweet, can enslave. The ancients spoke of this too. In Rome, the philosopher Seneca warned that luxury weakens the will, and that the man who cannot endure hunger will never endure hardship. Yet, he did not command the rejection of pleasure — only the governance of it. This is the essence of Colton’s message: not that one must live in denial, but that one must learn to choose the right season for indulgence. When he is “working,” he restrains; when the work is done, he enjoys. This rhythm — of discipline and reward — is the rhythm of life itself.

The lesson, then, is not one of deprivation but of discernment. The body is a servant of purpose; it cannot fulfill that purpose if it is burdened by excess. The wise learn to eat not for comfort, but for clarity; not for escape, but for strength. To “stay away” from temptation is not weakness — it is foresight. It is the understanding that true freedom lies in control, not in surrender. For every great calling demands a sacrifice, and to build something worthy — whether a strong body, a noble life, or a legacy of greatness — one must first master the humble act of choosing well.

So, my children of comfort and abundance, remember the spirit of Colton Haynes’s words. Discipline is not the enemy of joy — it is its foundation. To eat with purpose is to live with purpose. Do not despise your cravings, but rule them; do not flee from pleasure, but use it wisely. Let your meals honor your goals, your habits reflect your hopes. For the one who learns to govern the stomach will soon find that he governs the soul — and in that victory lies the quiet, enduring power of those who shape not only their bodies, but their destinies.