Saturday, April 28, 2012

The Chronicles of IM Fasting

The following is a collection of thoughts, musing, revelations, and outbursts that surfaced through the course of 16 hours without eating.

Rita, the Wing Nut
A long, emotionally depleting, and financially frustrating week is coming to an end. I pushed myself quite hard this week with my exercise, getting a chance to do yoga again for the first time in over a month. No fatigue, hints of soreness that faded within a few hours, and surprising amounts of energy left over, even after several solid self-imposed ass-kickings on Wednesday and Friday afternoons. I got to Friday evening, though, with an enormous mass of anger caught in my throat, fueled by a low battery in a smoke detector that refused to stop beeping, sending my two dogs into a maddening display of neuroses. (I'm convinced Rita thought that the occasional 'beep' was more than a beep, but rather the announcement of the impending alien invasion, meaning that she would soon be eaten by ravenous lizard-beings, her bones would be honed into toothpicks, and her fur would be worn as a diaper on a younger lizard-being. She woke me up Friday morning by getting a running start and smashing all of her 75 pounds of Lab/Collie headlong into my door. Thanks, baby. Just how I needed to start my day: with a huge adrenaline burst and a psychotic hell-hound trying to crawl into my bed, doors be damned.)

Friday, 6:30pm:
Alright, I am ready to break cars in half with my mind, that's how annoyed I am with the last three hours of trying to change the battery in that godforsaken smoke detector... at least, I think it was the right smoke detector... I'm tired from only having slept about 4 hours last night, and I feel the urge to engage in Emotional Eating, you know, until I'm out of food.

... might be a good time to do a fast and spend 16 hours thinking about me and not food. Can do. Where's my fish?

Thank God for freezers. And thank God that salmon thaws pretty damn fast. I just peeled and sliced a few carrots, coated them with olive oil and some random spices, and popped them in the oven, crisping them to perfection. While they cook, I can let that salmon thaw out and cook that too. Olive oil again, red pepper flakes, onion flakes, and lemon pepper on the fillet, and some diced garlic browning in the heating pan, and wouldn't you know it, everything timed out just right! Finally, something goes the way it's supposed to today! You know what? I'm going to relax while I eat... hell, maybe even enjoy it. And once I'm done with that and have settled down for a while, I'll have the last scoop of my Chocolate Coconut Ice Cream.

Protein, fat, carbs, and lots of water. I should be good for a while. Glad I didn't make my leftover spaghetti squash my meal-- too much starch, not enough substance for the next 16 hours. That state of mind cooking in a pound of pure anger would lead to a miserable woman. I think that choice of salmon over squash deserves a psychic pat on the back! Alright, so my timer is set and ticking down. Now I have to deal with this wad of 'grrrrrrrrr' that's making me literally grind my teeth.
This will be my bathtub one day...

I need a hot bath.

I. Love. Hot. Baths. I have a book. I have a glass of ice water. I have my iPhone and the random stuff stored in it. I have as much time as I need. I'm not getting out of this bathtub until my jaw unclenches.

Michael Cerveris could sing anything he wanted and I would listen. He could sing the ingredients on a bottle of cheap shampoo and I wouldn't move a muscle. Even as a psycho killer in a bad wig, he's still hot.

Damn. Now I want some dark chocolate. Guess that means I have to wait it out...

Chocolate craving passed. Fingers and toes getting pruney. Water finally getting tepid. Now I'm getting tired. I think I'm going to make a cup of tea and get to bed, even if I don't fall asleep until later.

Okay, Anger, you and I are going to come to an understanding. I don't want you lingering this weekend and ruining my mom's birthday. (58, and she still looks about 37. And I'm going to age like that. Thank you, Mamma!) So here's what we're going to do. You are going to recognize the fact that I took action despite old habits and fears and leave me alone, and I am going to make nice with you and leave you alone. If you bubble up, you will be breathed out with some Prithvi Pranayama, and that's all there is to it. Deal with it.

I'm placing too much faith in the opinions other people have of what's good for me. (... holy hell, where did that come from?!) I do too much; I don't do enough; I should be Here; I should be anticipating There and Next. Seems like that's where some of this anger is coming from.

Okay... so... what can I do tomorrow that gets me out of the recently described Cycle of Self-Doubt? I'm singing. New arrangement of a song with me on the soloist's line, and I want to review the harmonies on that other song. I wouldn't mind going into the next rehearsal prepared.

"I'm singing." That solution came up mighty quickly. Glad that I started dipping my toe back into the professional waters by sending out an email about that Venue Coordinator job that opened up this week. You know what? I've been extending feelers in all directions when it comes to professional satisfaction, and I'm tired of having every single feeler getting violently severed. I'm holding up my end, so it's time that The Universe stopped treating me like I'm not worth being happy.

Huh. My teeth are clenching again. Okay. Got it.

"Ancient Aliens" cracks me up. Even they're putting their spin on this whole 2012 thing. Granted, they get a lot of interviews with Erich von Daniken and Dr. Jonathan Young... but still...

And I HATE "Flo" from those stupid Progressive commercials.

SssssssnnnnnnzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzON YOUR LEFT!


Saturday, 8:45am:
Nuuuuuuh. I want breakfast in bed. It's cool and cloudy outside, and warm and cozy in bed, and that could only be improved by... wait a minute. I'm not even really hungry. I'm just awake and bored. Not a good reason to eat.

Huh. Look at that. Only an hour and a half left. You know what that means...

Mini Frittatas sound good. Maybe an apple and some almond butter, too. And a big mug of tea. Think I'll start cooking soon.

Would you look at that? Spinach and mushroom frittatas going in the oven and at least another 20 minutes before they're ready, a Granny Smith apple and some almond butter being prepped now, and the sky didn't fall down because I didn't eat. Soooo... why haven't you tried IM Fasting?

Last fall, when I started adding IM Fasting into my routine, I was nervous. It seemed interminable, the idea of those first 16 hours without food. But now, months later, it's nothing. In fact, the time becomes a fantastic form of stress release, allowing me to examine what I'm ordinarily trying to repress by adding a layer of food on top of it. Sure enough, Saturday is here, and all the bubbling, frothing, foaming anger from yesterday is gone!

The best marker of a successful IM Fast? I put on my favorite pair of jeans, checked my ensemble in the mirror (I went to see a ballet this afternoon and had to look somewhat presentable), and thought, "... yep. I'm hot." Tee hee...

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