The Fast

Oh, man, there is now a teeny tiny part of me that can relate to having an eating disorder. Not eating food is empowering. Controlling yourself to a point where you don't let any food touch your lips for 36 hours is a rush. I believe I can do anything after that. There's a clarity of mind. Leave the 'Hangry' stages far behind and enter a mental state of precision. Sort of.

I tried my first fast a couple of months ago for some stupid reason. Never tried it before, so why not? I had come up with a few shaky reasons to give it a go. For starters there's the survival story, Unbroken. The hero, Louis Zamperini, was floating on a raft for weeks with no food and he lived to be 97. Ninety-seven! I pursued the fasting idea for my health. I've heard fasting clears the toxins from your system. There's even urban legends about dudes that could speak a foreign language they never knew they'd known after fasting for a week. Wasn't Gandhi enlightened or something? Self-purification. Zen fasting! I'd never fasted ever before. Every single day of my whole damn life I had stuffed some kind of food into my mouth. I'd survive a non-food day. Easy. I thought more and more about the idea and finally pulled the trigger.

Huge headache. That's how my first fast could be described. Because I cut out everything. Water only. No coffee or tea meant no caffeine, and my body was not happy. But I did recover from that headache several hours later, and then I felt so proud that I hadn't caved in. Slept like a rock that night. I felt great the next morning. My stomach had shrunk. I didn't eat that much... for a day or two. I'm the most average sized man on the planet but I did feel a little thinner. A little fitter.

My second fast attempt was aborted when my wife came home with sushi for dinner. Cannot resist it.

My second full-fast was another headache. Water only again. I actually coached a soccer practice that night. For seven-year-olds. Total hell. But I didn't cave. That was a challenge, but I survived. I felt proud. I had lasted another 36, which includes sleep, of course. I had released some more toxins and felt pretty confident. But my sleep was average, and I ate plenty the next day.

By my third fast I was over the physical aspect. Maybe I felt a little more toned a couple days after fasting, but it wasn't that big of a deal. I noticed more results mentally, so I decided to focus on a mental problem while I was starving myself. I also stopped omitting caffeine. Coffee for breakfast. Iced tea in the afternoon. This time I didn't have a headache but I was was so wired instead. I focused on my novel manuscript, Forget Freeport. I went over and over every plot twist, every scene, and I came up with some obvious issues I had overlooked before. Sweet.

Fasting does take you out of your body if you let it. Refraining from everything is a high. Nothing is a drug. That said, it is a very weak drug. I probably could have smoked a joint and brainstormed my novel with similar results, and also enjoyed a really, really good bag of Doritos.

Will I ever fast again? Maybe. Well. Yes, probably. Very likely indeed. It's a huge pain in the ass, that produces barely any results, but hey, I'm a writer, so that's what I do.