This is hard.
Today I wanted ALL the food. I caught myself staring longingly into the refrigerator. At raw ground beef. Eggs. Condiments. Vegetables. Cheese. Even miso paste. I wanted it all.
We took the ice road out to Oak island to meet Tony’s parents. They share a birthday and we were having lunch and cupcakes to celebrate. They ate; I watched. My two club sodas with bitters were NOT feeling like an adequate celebration.
Tony knew I was struggling. “You wouldn’t have to view it as ‘failing,'” he said quietly; his eyes were understanding and so, so kind. I was staring at people’s food. Iris’ half uneaten meal was inches away. I wanted to plunge my finger into the perfectly white, smooth sour cream and lick it like it was frosting or peanut butter or … sour cream. The smells of blue cheese burgers, fried walleye, toasted pretzel buns, and buttery quesadillas were making me have all kinds of extra saliva to deal with.
I got up and walked around. I stared at the bar’s television. I typed a few frustrated words into my phone. I bargained with myself. I tried to rationalize how I could eat the tempting food and get back to fasting right away afterward. I was SO incredibly close to calling off the whole damn thing, grabbing a bite of Iris’ chicken quesadilla and then ordering whatever the hell I wanted off the menu x2 with a refillable diet coke to chase it all down.
But I didn’t.
Miraculously, I kept coming back to what I would write here. Tonight. After it was all said and done. How would I frame it so that I didn’t feel like a total failure? What would I say? I couldn’t lie. And I couldn’t just give up and call it quits because, frankly, I didn’t want to write that. So, I powered on. It was hard, but I sipped my club soda and smiled weakly as I picked up her forgotten hot tamales (my favorite) from the little candy coin machines and put them in her pocket.
When we got home, I looked at Tony and said, “I can’t believe I did it.” He smiled and held me close for a minute. He confided that the fish had been terrible, the steak bites were tasteless without the dipping sauce, and the chicken quesadilla was as dry as it always is. It made me feel better. He doesn’t really understand what it’s all about for me, this fasting business, but he’s so in my corner that he supports whatever crazy-ass notion I’ve got banging around in my head.
Today was hard. Really hard. My workout sucked. My mood was terrible. My patience nil. Physically, I felt OK, but I got nothing done except for soaking in an epsom salt bath for so long that I think I fell asleep.
And I somehow made it through.
I had set a goal, as I often do, but when it mattered today, when this felt really hard, I came back to that fact that I want to start meeting my goals. I want to keep my commitments. I want my word to mean something. I haven’t been that kind of person in the past. I used to say that “if I can quit drinking (which I did), I should be able to do such and such.” Well, this is the new barometer now. If I can quit eating for a pre-determined amount of days, maybe I really can do hard things.
Maybe I really can change my life.
Weight: 163.4 (Down 2.2 lbs from Day 2: 165.6)
- 1 cup cinnamon tea
- 2/3 liter water
- 1/3 liter snake juice
- 2 pints club soda with biters
Sleep: I slept like crap. +/- 5 hours of sleep. Probably less.
Exercise: Day 46 of 80-Day Obsession. I was good and sweaty after 40 minutes of cardio and hated every minute of it.
Nitty Gritty: Keto strip showed dark colors as of last night. No need to measure further while fasting. No bowel movement to report, which is likely much more disappointing for me than anyone reading this.
I’m fine, but today was hard. I would say “I hated every minute of it,” but later on I’m going to look back at this hard thing I did today and feel great. But right now, fasting can suck it.
Accountability is helping. Writing about it is working. And while I’m glad for that, basically I hate everything and everybody right now. I just want to be normal and eat.
But I also want to meet my goals.
I also want to learn self-discipline.
I also want to make big changes in my life.
And I want to make it to Day 6 more than I want to lick that sour cream off my finger.
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