Usually I’m incredibly aware of the food around me, but this time I’ve had zero interest. Yesterday we had an office potluck, and for once I felt no need to fill up a plate. It was easy to sluff off the event -- it’s funny how quickly the old lies to avoid eating come back.
There has been no hunger, the chills have been almost completely managed through light exercise, and I have almost no nausea (something I fight with constantly). Unfortunately, there has been no fasting high. My limbs feel heavy and weak. Even though I’m down six pounds -- lost over the last week, not just yesterday -- I don’t feel any lighter or more in control. Worst of all, my brain is stumbling along at half pace. There is no clarity. I wonder how long I’ll have to avoid eating before the positive effects start kicking in.
It should be noted that I don’t have a lot of experience with fasting. Not eating does not come naturally to me because I love food. I love buying it, I love cooking it and I love eating it. While I’ve gone through periods of restricting -- sometimes eating less than 500 calories a day for months on end, broken up by a binge here and there -- cutting out food altogether was something I stumbled upon accidentally.
My first fast, not surprisingly, involved a boy. He was my first love. When he broke my heart (i.e. dumped my sorry ass), I fell into a deep (read: angsty teenage) depression. Eating became a chore. I tried tempting myself with favorite foods, but everything fell to ash on my tongue. Eventually I just stopped trying. I went nearly two months with little to no nourishment. Through the veil of sadness, I experience a new mental state. I felt powerful, strong, better.
I lost 25 pounds.
Looking back, this experience was probably the beginning of the end for me.