The canister for the drinks insists that you will feel energized and full. I appreciate that optimism, but I am ravenous and have a pounding headache. Last night my brain was so hungry, I literally couldn't think straight. Couldn't think of words, wandering around the house in a fog. The directions also say you can do the fast--no food other than broth--for up to 14 days. That has to be a typo, because anything over five or six days clearly violates terms of the Geneva Convention.
The thought that keeps bouncing around in my hungry little head is this: I am wondering why it is called a fast? Either it was not named by someone who has actually fasted, or the namer was in a state of starvation and not able to think clearly. I would suggest calling it a "slow," as that is how the time passes when you are not eating. Slow-ly.
I don't want to do anything because it all reminds me of how hungry I am--getting up early is just extra hours without chewing. Watching TV is no fun because it is within sight of the kitchen. In fact, my whole house is near the kitchen and it is driving me bananas. Ah, bananas, how lovely that would be. I miss chewing. And when I start missing fruit, of which I have never been a fan, things are dire indeed.
In an effort to get my mind off the fact that my stomach is eating itself and beginning to chew painfully on my backbone, I attempt leaving the house. But everywhere I go, food is there. A pizza delivery car drove by me on the street and I swear to you, I could smell the pizza. I almost ran into a ditch. I pass people in stores and instead of their smiling people faces, here is what I see:
I can't go anywhere near Pinterest, what with all the caramel-peanut butter-chocolate-s'mores explosion recipes y'all are all pinning, and channel surfing past the Food Network is enough to bring me to tears. No, Giada, I am not interested in that manicotti you're making and apparently losing weight while eating (seriously, why is that girl an Italian chef and she weighs 98 pounds? I have a "weighty" problem with that).
Even the dog's food is starting to look tempting, and when you start begrudging your pet his venison and potato kibble (special prescription formula for skin and coat to help with allergies mind you), you are really reaching the point of desperation. One more day to go, one more day to go....
The last time we did one of these fasts, my mailman told me he would keep an eye out for me, and if he found me lying in a ditch, collapsed from exhaustion while out walking the dog, he would throw me some of the dog biscuits he keeps in his mail truck for sustenance. But Terry the mailman has a new route and I do not get the feeling that the new mail carrier is quite as sympathetic. That being said, if you are in south Charlotte and see a brunette lying on the side of the road and a little white dog sitting beside her, double check would you? Maybe throw me a Tic Tac or something to get me going again.
I have one more shake today for lunch and then we are calling it quits and going to get a salad or some other rabbit food for dinner. Fasts on Friday nights are illegal. At least they are in my handbook--you know, the one with the tater tot dip recipe.