I've got this, I said to myself. I can handle this. Juice fasting isn't even about willpower, it's just about accepting a binary, accept you won't eat food and you won't suffer not having food. I can do this.
Today, against my better judgement, my resolve was put to the test. Twice.
My morning started in an unusual way for a weekend: with an alarm.
Wife and I had to get up to meet with some friends as it was "game day." I had a very eclectic upbringing, but one of the few things that never had much of a place in my childhood was this whole "sports" concept. Yes, I know that a baseball is he white one you throw and a basketball is the orange one you bounce. Yes, I know who Michael Jordan is. Yes, I attended UT and know that the Texas Longhorns are better at whatever the stated activity is for one of these games. That's the extent of my knowledge.
Today was a special day because it involved Oklahoma. For some reason, Texas and Oklahoma have been battling for superiority for decades. I don't see what the issue is, no amount of sport success will make up for the fact that Oklahoma can't surmise themselves any better than "it's OK." That, and I've never heard of anyone being excited about going there.
So I suited up in my new burnt orange shirt and we headed to the sports bar. I had my juice, I had my resolve. Surely I could sit around a table filled with beer and fried foods of all sorts and just politely sip my water. I was actually quite surprised at what I discovered.
First, I learned that if the other team gets the ball and runs it across your line thingy more times than you it means they win, and I also learned that I was less drawn to the piles of fried food than I was to the beer. Don't get me wrong, I loves me some wings! But I was far more tempted to drink than I was to eat. I'm not sure if it's just some social association of beer with being out with friends, or if I recognize how bad fried pickles are and I just haven't yet learned my lesson with beer. I suppose I'll have to explore that a few times after the fast.
I left at halftime. I needed to make some more juice for lunch, and honestly the environment was starting to wear on me. There was lots of shouting and eating and drinking and more shouting so I took my leave. Still, I'd managed to keep my head on and keep my diet.
Then came dinner. Our friends called back. They were going for Italian.
I'm not the most religious man, but I firmly believe that there is enough evidence in the bible to prove that God has a sick sense of humor.
This one I tried to get out of. Carbs and Italian specifically was the one thing I found myself really craving. I could look in the fridge, I could even go through the grocery store, but I was just drooling for some creamy pasta for the past few days. The idea that I was going to be sitting and staring at my friends as they indulged around me was stressful by itself. That was like putting me on the rack, and I didn't know why I would ever do such a think to myself.
But I did. Partially because it was my friend's birthday, and partially because my wife said she was sure I could do it so get in the car we're leaving.
I won't deny I was tempted. So help me I was eyeing those breadsticks and that pasta from the moment it hit the table. It was so close to me, I could smell it. It smelled like happiness and Marsala wine. I had made it more than a week, right? Why should I punish myself any longer?
Just as I found myself about to buckle, I found a way to fight back: talking.
It's amazing how little one can eat when they're flapping their gums, but by keeping myself firmly entrenched in the conversation I managed to make it through the meal without much trouble. Yes, I knew the food was still there, but there were topics to discuss and debate in which to engage. Okay so it was mostly dead baby jokes and geeking out over Looper, but that was enough stimulation to keep me occupied.
Yes, I seemed like a jabbering egoist, but I was also the asshole at the restearaunt that wasn't eating so I wasn't exactly in the best light to begin with.
Finally I got home, and at the close of day 8, with two days to go, and I have still been without solid food for over a week. This is an accomplishment in itself, as I'm not one who is good with committing to lifestyle changes. Most don't last a week, and the last one that did ended up marrying me. Maybe the whole juice fast thing is just about discipline?
And maybe the secret is really "friendship.' God I hate those endings.
Today, against my better judgement, my resolve was put to the test. Twice.
My morning started in an unusual way for a weekend: with an alarm.
Wife and I had to get up to meet with some friends as it was "game day." I had a very eclectic upbringing, but one of the few things that never had much of a place in my childhood was this whole "sports" concept. Yes, I know that a baseball is he white one you throw and a basketball is the orange one you bounce. Yes, I know who Michael Jordan is. Yes, I attended UT and know that the Texas Longhorns are better at whatever the stated activity is for one of these games. That's the extent of my knowledge.
Today was a special day because it involved Oklahoma. For some reason, Texas and Oklahoma have been battling for superiority for decades. I don't see what the issue is, no amount of sport success will make up for the fact that Oklahoma can't surmise themselves any better than "it's OK." That, and I've never heard of anyone being excited about going there.
So I suited up in my new burnt orange shirt and we headed to the sports bar. I had my juice, I had my resolve. Surely I could sit around a table filled with beer and fried foods of all sorts and just politely sip my water. I was actually quite surprised at what I discovered.
First, I learned that if the other team gets the ball and runs it across your line thingy more times than you it means they win, and I also learned that I was less drawn to the piles of fried food than I was to the beer. Don't get me wrong, I loves me some wings! But I was far more tempted to drink than I was to eat. I'm not sure if it's just some social association of beer with being out with friends, or if I recognize how bad fried pickles are and I just haven't yet learned my lesson with beer. I suppose I'll have to explore that a few times after the fast.
I left at halftime. I needed to make some more juice for lunch, and honestly the environment was starting to wear on me. There was lots of shouting and eating and drinking and more shouting so I took my leave. Still, I'd managed to keep my head on and keep my diet.
Then came dinner. Our friends called back. They were going for Italian.
I'm not the most religious man, but I firmly believe that there is enough evidence in the bible to prove that God has a sick sense of humor.
This one I tried to get out of. Carbs and Italian specifically was the one thing I found myself really craving. I could look in the fridge, I could even go through the grocery store, but I was just drooling for some creamy pasta for the past few days. The idea that I was going to be sitting and staring at my friends as they indulged around me was stressful by itself. That was like putting me on the rack, and I didn't know why I would ever do such a think to myself.
But I did. Partially because it was my friend's birthday, and partially because my wife said she was sure I could do it so get in the car we're leaving.
I won't deny I was tempted. So help me I was eyeing those breadsticks and that pasta from the moment it hit the table. It was so close to me, I could smell it. It smelled like happiness and Marsala wine. I had made it more than a week, right? Why should I punish myself any longer?
Just as I found myself about to buckle, I found a way to fight back: talking.
It's amazing how little one can eat when they're flapping their gums, but by keeping myself firmly entrenched in the conversation I managed to make it through the meal without much trouble. Yes, I knew the food was still there, but there were topics to discuss and debate in which to engage. Okay so it was mostly dead baby jokes and geeking out over Looper, but that was enough stimulation to keep me occupied.
Yes, I seemed like a jabbering egoist, but I was also the asshole at the restearaunt that wasn't eating so I wasn't exactly in the best light to begin with.
Finally I got home, and at the close of day 8, with two days to go, and I have still been without solid food for over a week. This is an accomplishment in itself, as I'm not one who is good with committing to lifestyle changes. Most don't last a week, and the last one that did ended up marrying me. Maybe the whole juice fast thing is just about discipline?
And maybe the secret is really "friendship.' God I hate those endings.
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