The Last Day of Master Cleanser
Oy, the boredom, the tedium, the sheer dullness of drinking nothing but spicy lemonade for seven days.
In preparation for tomorrow's glorious return to solid food, I added -- oooooooo -- an extra tablespoon of maple syrup to my last batch of beverage tonight. I also went grocery shopping for a couple of items (basically crackers, fruit, and yoghurt for breaking my fast), which was a bewildering undertaking for a person who hasn't eaten anything in seven days.
I want each and every one of you reading this, and I mean it, to drop to your knees RIGHT NOW and give thanks for the condition of overwhelming abundance in which we dwell. I don't care how poor you are, compared to most other people in most other times and places, you are RICH. (In America, we have the fattest poor people in the world. In almost any other era or locale, the notion that you could be poor and fat would be a total contradiction in terms.) You are surrounded by huge quantities of cheap, safe, tasty food. It's EVERYWHERE. Even my local, lame Giant Supermarket is an unbelievable cornucopia of luscious comestibles.
This week has been a valuable opportunity for me to once again recalibrate my relationship with food. I have been forcefully reminded how many roles it plays in my life: nutrition, comfort, social lubricant, entertainment, punctuation. As I begin to eat again, I'm going to strive do to it more mindfully, making more conscious choices and above all, appreciating it more.
I don't know if the "Master Cleanser" did much bodily cleansing, but it sure cleared my mental decks with respect to food. In fact, I think that's going to be my new motto when it comes to eating: Respect Food.
In preparation for tomorrow's glorious return to solid food, I added -- oooooooo -- an extra tablespoon of maple syrup to my last batch of beverage tonight. I also went grocery shopping for a couple of items (basically crackers, fruit, and yoghurt for breaking my fast), which was a bewildering undertaking for a person who hasn't eaten anything in seven days.
I want each and every one of you reading this, and I mean it, to drop to your knees RIGHT NOW and give thanks for the condition of overwhelming abundance in which we dwell. I don't care how poor you are, compared to most other people in most other times and places, you are RICH. (In America, we have the fattest poor people in the world. In almost any other era or locale, the notion that you could be poor and fat would be a total contradiction in terms.) You are surrounded by huge quantities of cheap, safe, tasty food. It's EVERYWHERE. Even my local, lame Giant Supermarket is an unbelievable cornucopia of luscious comestibles.
This week has been a valuable opportunity for me to once again recalibrate my relationship with food. I have been forcefully reminded how many roles it plays in my life: nutrition, comfort, social lubricant, entertainment, punctuation. As I begin to eat again, I'm going to strive do to it more mindfully, making more conscious choices and above all, appreciating it more.
I don't know if the "Master Cleanser" did much bodily cleansing, but it sure cleared my mental decks with respect to food. In fact, I think that's going to be my new motto when it comes to eating: Respect Food.
Labels: health
2 Comments:
Here's my question for you: how on earth have you managed the hunger pangs? I can only imagine the physical pain you must have felt. Because I know with me, no amount of liquid (be it thick liquid like a smoothie or thin like your tea) can get me past that horrible, gnawing feeling when it's way past feeding time.
It's just hunger. It won't kill you (unless it goes on for, literally, months).
Seriously, if you simply experience hunger pangs instead of panicking over them, it's really just not that bad. It's unpleasant, but most of the pain is psychological ("I should be eating, damn it!") not physical. You can get used to it. There's discomfort, but it's nothing like a bad toothache or (can I get an amen?) a urinary tract infection.
Or, I assume, childbirth.
It's not even as bad as a *&^%%$#& sprained ankle. (Don't get me started.)
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