I Am Only Good in Extremes

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I had a terrible moment when I was sat down at my PC last Wednesday and looked down and realized that I was undeniably carrying something in addition to my regular 175 pounds. Not that I deeply care. I cannot claim a strong health-consciousness or anything, since I am the guy who shovels chocolate into his face three hundred and sixty-five days a year, and only manages to eat vegetables once every leap year.

But there is the fairer sex, and really, I have little enough going physically in my favour already. Adding a bit of a belly to the equation cannot possibly work to my advantage.

So, it was time for a fast.

The problem is ... well, the problem is that I eat too much, too poorly, and exercise too little, I suppose. But contributing problems include moving into this new flat and discovering that it does not have a scale. Suddenly it was easy to lose track of how many kilograms I was lugging around.

And then there was that whole Christmas and New Years and the being home thing, leading me into an expectation of that if my belly was not distended with food, then I must be hungry. And the couple of weeks with Dad here in London did nothing but reinforce that message. Mmm... so much good food.

I tried to cut back to reasonable levels, by the judicious application of common sense, but that was a complete failure. I am just no good at taking the middle road. One slip leads into another leads into a third, and suddenly I have achieved six thousand calories for the thirty-third day in a row. I present such convincing arguments to myself for why I should do what I want to do but ought not do. If there is any grey area at all, you can count on me to take maximum advantage of it. Incremental change is not my forte.

To break the overeating habit, I thought I would balance it with some under-eating. Accordingly, I did not intake a single calorie last Thursday, Friday or Saturday, excepting whatever might be present in toothpaste.

As before, it was a very interesting experience to live through.

On Thursday, I kept going for food, just out of habit. I would hit a break at work between cruising the internet and staring blankly at the screen, and would be half-way to the kitchen to pick up some chips (or 'crisps' if you are speaking to an Englishperson) before remembering that I was not eating that day. I was not really hungry and did not have any real pangs or rumbles, so that was good.

When I was on my way home, I noticed that I was like a blind or deaf person, who, losing one sense, notices that his other senses sharpen up to compensate. Possibly in response to losing my sense of constant caloric intake, my sense of smell was working overdrive. Walking past restaurants was sheer bliss. I could imagine eating every dish being served. Everything smelled tangible, and inhaling deeply felt almost like eating.

It emphasises, I guess, how much of the taste experience is all about smell.

Friday started off a little worrisome as I was light-headed in the shower. It is easy to blame everything on the fast, though in fairness, any number of things could have caused it. My dizziness could equally easily be caused by sunspots or a very minor earthquake. But it passed and the rest of the day was fine.

It was a very easy day, in fact. Almost nothing you could point to as my body telling me it was hungry. Many fewer automatic trips to the kitchen as well. The only problem came from the fact that if you do not leave the office for lunch, there is no real reason to step away from your desk. It makes for a very long continuous stretch in a confined office space.

Saturday was also very easy. I am worried after the experience of my fast that my body has lost its hunger messages. At no time did my body do a compelling job of letting me know that it wanted food. If it was not for my brain occasionally thinking wistfully how good various food products taste, I might have forgotten entirely to resume eating.

And it was not as if I slipped into a quiet coma while fasting, either. I was still walking or cycling to work when the weather permitted and I was still playing DDR in the evenings. The only thing I did lose was my brain (my most atrophied muscle). I could not concentrate on anything that required a positive effort of me. All my willpower was sapped dry. I would find myself staring at a sheet of paper for minutes on end and have no desire to stop. I missed scottmcj's, and failed to respond to emails. I was dramatically more stupid than normal. Other than that, no adverse effects at all.

Sunday I broke my fast with a big English breakfast. Too big, too English. I was done with the greasy bacon and sausage and eggs and beans and chips and toast about a quarter of the way through. If I could bear to walk away from food that I paid money for, I should have stopped eating there. But I forced it all down and went from feeling lethargic through no calories at all to lethargy from overindulgence.

Later that evening, I had dinner with M~ and C~ and flirting with S~. Again I ate too much, and found myself at the end of Sunday having just lived exactly the kind of day I was supposed to have put behind me.

As penance, I fasted Monday to balance out Sunday. The good news is that hunger had kicked right back in on Monday. All day long I had to ignore hunger pangs and remind myself, "today is the day we are not eating. Oh, you do not like that, belly? Then maybe you should not have eaten so much yesterday! This is what happens to you when you gorge yourself. Consequences, they are called."

That is my new plan. Feast and Famine. If I overdo one day, I will fast the next. Hopefully my body, which likes food quite a lot, will learn the lesson that suffering will follow if it goes for the instant gratification of a gigantic meal.

I am the first to admit that it is a pathetic plan. But if it is not a binary, I will not be able to enforce it. Eat or don't eat. That is the only thing I can promise to stick to.

If you are my friend, and have already chastised me for being an idiot, weirdo or freak bent on living the least healthy life possible, I heard you loud and clear. And if you did not get a chance to get your critique in, can we just take it as read that you did?

I will bet America is full of people like me. We are a nation of relativists. All greys are equivalent in the modern PC age, and the worst character is one who judges behaviour against rules. Because what if everyone does not agree that a given standard was the right one or a fair one to use? Who are we to say what is right or wrong?

Given the fear to judge, everyone becomes very adept at letting anything slip. I suspect that, like me, many people would only be able to live by black and white rules when their own desires push them to take advantage of the greys.

This could be the next diet fad. We will see who is the freak when my next diet book comes out!