I have heard that fasting brings spiritual insights and enlightenment. Several of my fellow yogis swear by it, Your body feels so clean, they say. Your mind experiences clarity and focus, they opine.
Anyhow, I have recently learned several things about myself through this whole “gall bladder is killing me and I can’t eat anything” fiasco. So without further ado…
13 Things I Will Do When I am Experiencing Extreme Hunger*
1. Cry when the nurse who is scheduling my appointment tells me that it may be over a month until I get to see the surgeon. (For the record, I’m not sure my tears or my pitiful, But I can’t live like this, really moved her. We’ll see.)
2. Consider eating friend chicken, french fries, and ice cream for every meal until my gall bladder explodes. I bet the surgeon will see me then.
3. Hold a knife on my husband when he tries to “brainstorm” things I can eat.
4. Cry when my childcare falls through – yet again.
5. Say the “f” word in my mind at least 5 times an hour. For example, in my head the first paragraph above ended with stupid, f*@king yogis. That’s not nice. It isn’t. And I don’t mean it – but I did when I thought it. For a minute.
6. Believe that melba toast is an actual snack.
7. Cry when I watch the preschool video of Zane’s Christmas program. My lovely boy picked his nose the whole time.
8. Send my husband out to get me a strawberry field smoothie every single night. They’re non-fat and strawberily delicious.
(This is eerily reminiscent of being pregnant in that SRH is infinitely willing to indulge any of my non-fat cravings. Except that I’m not pregnant. I have an inflamed organ. And it’s not going to grow to be a special, loved, little baby. It’s going to erupt into a flaming miasma of bile and regret.)
9. Begin an email to a colleague with, This is SO not something I care about. I’ll see if I can get to it this week. Wisely, I reconsidered. That particular email will probably wait until hungry day #33.
10. Cry when SRH referenced my favorite meatballs, here. I miss them. I do.
11. Consider seeking therapy – I sure am crying a lot.
12. Decide to go to a yoga class instead. Then I remember that it’s hard for me to walk up the four flights to my office without a break these days. What am I thinking? There’s no way I’ll get through a yoga class.
13. Be grateful that
Please someone else tell me that they have done something pitiful when hungry, sick, or tired. I need some commiseration here.
*I do understand that voluntarily abstaining from most food is a luxury and a privilege. Some folks will go hungry tonight because there isn’t anything in their cupboards. That’s not where we are, and I’m grateful. Hungry and grateful.
7 comments:
You're breaking my heart. Really, not sarcastically. If you decide you want to go the "make it erupt and then the surgeon will see me" way I'll make cabbage & noodles for you. With extra butter.
Well, you certainly have my sympathy. All I know is that I'm STILL bitter about my experience so feel free bitch it up!
IC Yellow
zingerzapper-
Sometimes I try to walk the walk. Many days I don't make it.
I will never leave my "eat meat" lifestyle. Clearly, my body just isn't made for it.
Mom-
So, I guess this particular post went right past funny to pitiful, huh?
Well, sometimes it just be's like that.
ic yellow-
I knew you'd feel me on this one.
Mom:
If we fix her something to throw her over the edge, it needs to be a throwaway meal. Remember, you still can't stand Schmidt's Suasage House because that is what put you into an attack. She loves kabbage and noodles too much for it to cause her pain.
"Alcohol is fat free. Have you considered that as a viable option? Good idea? Bad idea? I ....I just can't tell anymore."
srh-
Good point. I'm not giving up my cabbage and noodles. Although I'm inlcined to believe that if i went in knowing that I was trying to make the gall bladder go, it might not ruin the meal for me. But it probably is best not to take any stupid chances.
Anon-
Heavy on the sauce this week, were you captain?
riley-
#9 is always at the forefront of my mind, but I feel like it's a line that once you step over you probably can't go back. Therefore, I won't cross it until I give my two weeks' notice.
Oh man. Buck up little camper!
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