Five Day Fast

So I finished my 5 day zero calorie fast Friday night at midnight. I wasn’t doing it as a health/weight loss exercise so much as a “make sure you still have some discipline and willpower” exercise. So it was a massive success.

As a goof I got on a scale at 23:45 just to see, and I was down to 217, the lowest I’ve weighed in years, and 17 pounds down from 10 days earlier.

A couple/few thoughts about the progression:

Day 1, Monday

Monday was like the day everybody imagines when they think about fasting. Constant ravenous hunger totally dominating my head. It was absolute torture and the worst day of the week. I’m not sure what I even did when I got home, trying to focus on not eating. That might have been the day I reinstalled windows on my desktop.

Day 2

Tuesday morning I woke up pretty early without that consuming gut ache and felt pretty good. A couple times throughout the day I’d fade out a little. I was drinking water like it was water. Every once in a while I’d pop a little salt, a bit less than half a teaspoon. At one point on Tuesday, I think it was about 11:30, the ingestion of a bit of salt and a water bottle chaser made me feel remarkably better almost instantly. That ended up starting a trend. Whether it was an appropriate amount or not I don’t know. There’s a nontrivial chance I was correlating the events erroneously.

My sense of smell was getting pretty extreme.

The evening was kinda torturous. It became startlingly clear to me the degree to which eating is an activity rather than a manner of sustenance. I didn’t have the slightest idea what to do with myself. I downloaded and installed Steam and pulled Skyrim and Fallout off of backups and tried to get focused on playing. But my brain was just too scattered.

I had a physical pain I couldn’t quite identify. Wrote it off to the abdominal issues of my distressingly empty intestines.

Started watching Agents of Shield over again just to eat time.

Day 3

Again with the waking up early. About 5:30, a solid hour before my otherwise grudging alarm. While my thoughts went frequently to food, I wasn’t overly hungry per se. I downed a diet dew on my way in to the office and the caffeine sent me into fits of Elizabethan talkativeness. Seriously. I couldn’t shut up. My brain was just racing.

At lunch I walked in to the kitchen, eyes closed and rattled off the ingredients in a coworker’s lunch by smell. Seriously. I was a bloodhound.

It was this day I realized I’d never gotten a caffeine headache, which was odd.

I noticed a pain in my…well, I don’t know what. Bladder? It’s similar to kidney pain but it’s right inside my pelvis on either side, right at my belt line. Weird. Just an odd discomfort; discounted it.

Day 4

I was up at 5:15, against my will. We had a coworker leaving on Thursday. I’ll call him Stephen because his name is Stephen. The plan was to take him to Fulin’s Chinese restaurant for lunch. I told him I was zero calorie so I couldn’t reasonably go. He just chuckled and nodded “It’s cool man. That’s just crazy.”

At about 11:30 my trollish sense of innate self-abusing jackassery said “what? you a little bitch? You can’t handle that?” So I went and sat at the end of the table and drank a diet coke while I watched 12 people eat Chinese food. It was the craziest masochistic thing I’ve done in years and it was a blast. Why the hell was it actually fun? Stephen had sashimi and I would’ve eaten the ice it was bedded on.

I was lusting after a leftover scoop of white rice with a little dab of soy sauce. Even it looked just lovely, fluffy and warm, just sticky enough.

I just sat there and drooled like a St. Bernard, chuckling to myself in my madness.

I couldn’t sit at my computer at night. Mixed blessing. On one hand, there’s no objective downside to that. On the other, it’s because I was in a really frustrating amount of pain. Agents of Shield marathon. Watched 5 episodes then went to bed, fantasizing about what I was going to eat on Friday at midnight (Nachos. It all came down to Nachos…and a root beer float.)

Tried to use my scale when I got home, but the battery was dead. Kinda feel gross, physically. Not…internally. Just as a matter of body consciousness. It’s weird. I don’t ever feel like that. I feel dissatisfied and “too full” or “carb coma”ish. But I rarely feel that kind of gross.

Another Agents of Shield marathon.

Day 5 The home stretch.

I spent most of the day working on my shopping list for the evening. Marinara sauce, Updoot soup, avocado chips, Nachos, and who knows what. My brain would not get off of food without some serious prompting. However, once directed it was delightfully acute. I just had to spend a nontrivial amount of energy staying on task.

It wasn’t fun anymore. Water wouldn’t stave off the hunger, which came back pretty strongly. I’d had a coke zero at lunch, and a black tea in the morning.

The Publix near the office didn’t have one critical ingredient for about 4 of my planned recipes, so I bought what I could and left in a huff.

I watched a couple/few episodes of Agents of Shield ’til 9-10 then I started cutting onions for the sauce and sweating them down a bit. Peeled and minced a head of garlic and put that in there as well, a bit of oregano, some olive oil, and some black pepper, all while I put the crushed tomatoes in the crock pot. Dumped everything together, added the rest of the seasoning, and put it on warm (not even low) and tried not to think about the smell.

At 11:45 I turned the oven on and started assembling the nachos. Doritos, sharp cheddar, some taco meat, and Cajun Power Garlic Sauce. I’d planned on going full salsa/guac/sour cream, but it was 11:45 and I was entirely out of fucks.

I thought about it and went over to step on the scale (having replaced the battery.) 217. Down from 235 the prior Wednesday. 17 pounds. That’s kinda astounding. I thought about what I was planning for the weekend and thought to myself “oh well.”

When the clock struck the Nachos had 5 more minutes to go, so I loaded a plain old dorito with a little bit of shredded cheese and ate it. The instant SHOCK of flavors, smells, and textures was a damn tsunami. So much corn and the creaminess of the cheese juxtaposed with its sharpness. And just as fast as it came, it went.

I took a sip of milk and while the feeling of it coating my throat and making its way down in my stomach was sublime, it wasn’t….novel in any way.

I grabbed the tray out of the oven and made myself a little plate and ate it on the couch. It wasn’t particularly fulfilling as my body was just in such shock. Tasty as hell though. Then I ate a 2nd.

Then I went to bed.

The Morning After

I woke up feeling normal. Not particularly anything really. I puttered around a little before walking in to the kitchen to survey the carnage. With a twinkle in my eye I took the cookie sheet over to the couch and fucking HOUSED about 7/8 of it before I realized I was really just doing it to do it, even though the first half of that was positively orgasmic. I dedicated the rest to Johann the White and cleaned up a very little.

It’s Sunday now, and I’m reformatting and pasting this into WP. I’m a little sad it’s over. I feel weirdly full, having just eaten a burrito for lunch. It just seems like so much food.