When I was in college, I traveled to Nepal to study at a Tibetan Buddhist monastery. After many years of battling with my body, I decided to take a break from constantly stressing out about food and exercise. It was the Third World, with lepers and poverty everywhere I looked, so somehow trying to manifest visible abs seemed a bit trivial.
During the day I studied Buddhist philosophy and history taught by monks, and by night I ate my weight in carbs. Garlic naan, white rice, probably hundreds of dumplings ...
I even ate a chocolate croissant from a local bakery every single day and didn't exercise once. I didn't care, but before I returned home, I called my mom and sullenly warned her about my undoubted extra pounds. "I've gained a lot of weight so please don't say anything," I told her.
After a 36-hour journey home, I found her at the airport and she looked at me in confusion and said, "You are skin and bones!" I stepped on the scale later that day and found that I had lost nearly 20 pounds over the course of two months. Two months of not denying myself anything, eating to my heart's content, and not slaving away on a treadmill. I was in shock.