two weeks today with the tongue ring. i can’t begin to tell you how much i haven’t eaten, it was even more than i hoped for in the preventing eating department. and i’ve been fine, obviously my body was more than willing to use up the stored reserves, but there are limits, and i hit mine tonight.
or more accurately it hit me. right around sevenish, i just crashed. i was way past a little low blood sugar, past hungry, i was in entirely new territory as far as my feelings for food are concerned. i was of about the same mindset as the donner party when they decided a little roast leg of jebediah would hit the spot, ok? i was that convict in the stand who was salivating at the thought of eating rancid rat meat raw, fur and all, and then randall flagg comes and recruits him as an evil henchman and … i was stark raving ravenous, probably a little dangerous, and i had to have it. had to have food you chew, had to.
i drove home struggling to stay focused, stopped at the colonel on my way; even as i was navigating the narrow exit of the drivethrough, i was already digging in the box and tearing the into the flesh and stuffing the hot meat into my mouth; i believe i was moaning. it was intense, it was primal. i would say sexual but it was on another level, a different depth, it was survival.
two chicken strips and a side of mashed potatoes and gravy later, i’m rushing out on the feeling of solid food fullness, all atingle and shivery warm and fuzzy headed dizzy giddy and, well, a little gassy — even that feels just divine.
don’t try this at home, folks, it’s bad and dangerous and wrong and balanced eating habits blah blah exercise blah ok? and as bad as i know it is, which is very very, i still stand behind my horrible dietary tendencies on the grounds that fitting into my old pants is … so much more than it sounds like, really trust me on that, i’m too woozy to sense much make more any lack of brain blood probably sleepy-bye?