Onward

Well, as you one or two faithful readers may have noticed-- the fast ended.  At the end of Day 3 my head was pounding, and the terrible irony did not escape me that I'm already a sufferer of headaches-- a 48 hour headache, voluntarily self-afflicted was not something I needed in my life.  What I did need was food.  I ate-- a grilled cheese sandwich.  Probably not the best choice and a serious stomachache afterward confirmed it, but my carb and dairy withdrawal was acute by that point.  So I gobbled down my sandwich in shame and depression and my headache was gone.  Instantly.  It seemed to be a good choice.

I rationalized and regretted my decision by turns, and told myself that I would eat sparsely and ideally, all vegan, till the fast period would have been over.  I did, for a few days, but I think that last night marked a turning point.  A returning point, I should say, to fattier and happier times.  After an afternoon lifting and sorting through boxes in the basement, it was evident that a veggie burger and a couple beers were in order, and so I traipsed down to the Oaks Bottom Pub.  The fact that Oaks Bottom is famous for its "totchos," a large platter of nachos, only with Tater Tots instead of tortilla chips lying beneath the heap of cheese, beans, sour cream, jalapenos, etc, should indicate just about where this place falls on the health-o-meter.  I ordered my own favorite: a veggie burger with blue cheese and sauteed mushrooms, a side of tots, and a pint of Proletariat Red.  It hit the spot.  I hadn't eaten cheese since my lapse, and had abstained from anything deep-fried for even longer than that.  I told myself, if I keep the consumption of deep-frieds to a minimum, I think-- I hope-- I should be ok.

So anyway.  I think I've escaped the guilt and shame of eating by now-- the fast would be over tomorrow anyway, so by then I'll really be out of the woods.  But, guilt can be productive (and how would my parents get their occasional birthday gifts if it weren't?), and my awareness of what I eat has gone up drastically.  A couple days after I quit the fast I decided to spend the day sugar free.  At work of course someone brought in several tubs of cookies, and after lunch (when I find myself craving sugar the most) I nearly bit off all my fingernails instead of going for the cookies.  A nasty tasting alternative, I tell you.  And later that night after I finished dinner, I let myself have a half a cantelope for dessert.  It was really good.  But it wasn't enough.  I wanted to-- literally, mind you-- go in to the kitchen and snack on a spoonful of sugar.  Wow.  That is a serious addiction.  

I suppose this strange, obsessive relationship about food will continue.  So I'll just write about it.  That's what turns someone from a neurotic into an expert, isn't it?  Just look at Freud, and Philip Roth.

Grace.