We use metaphors of eating to describe experiences that we hope energize, fuel, or nourish more than just our bodies—a feast for the eyes, food for the soul, fat and happy—yet we feel constantly dissatisfied and hungry.

My smartphone feeds me a constant menu that clogs my synapses like mental margarine: spoonfuls of other people’s curated lives, buffets of tragedy that leave me both sick and craving more, and sups of animal rescue videos which, though frequently staged, temporarily placate me with their sweetness.

I, like many people, have tried social media fasts—or at least an Internet diet—yet I keep coming back for more.

I’ve tried intermittently fasting from the force-feed of information by setting time restrictions on apps or labeling certain locations like the bed or dinner table or car “no phone zones.” I’ve acknowledged my lack of self-control by deleting apps like Facebook and Instagram and Amazon entirely from my phone so I am not tempted by them at all.

But diets don’t work; I always end up binging.

So this Lenten fast, rather than attempting to restrict my social media consumption, I’ve decided to go with my natural tendency to over-indulge in hopes of crowding out cookies with carrots.

I’m tricking my appetite into enjoying more of what’s good for me by stuffing my larder with:

1. Books. I’ve swapped out doom-scrolling with reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love” as promised. While I am somewhat distracted by the big house, Manhattan apartment, and short stories performed as plays she has achieved by her early 30s, I was still up past my bedtime last night reading. I plan to feast on a novel, a productivity book, and an audiobook each month.

2. Workshops. I’ve been on a workshop bender since December. I have indulged in one workshop of at least one week’s duration for the past four months. For March and April, I’m tucking into a six-week workshop based on the book “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron which expects daily reading and writing as well as weekly personal retreats and group meetings.

3. Conversation. I’ve secretly replaced texting with daily one-on-one conversations with each member of my family. Our last two years of constant contact have made us a little numb to each other, and I would like to savor them again.

If you listen to the advertisements, a good diet plan keeps you from feeling being hungry, allows you to eat dessert every day, and provides recipes that use totally fake ingredients but taste like the real thing—yes, that no sugar, fat-free, low carb, “chocolate” cake tastes just like the cake your grandma used to make! Really, it does!

My binge-fast does taste like the real thing because it is the real thing. And worth every calorie.