What a Water Fast Feels Like

Sargent | The Fountain, Villa Torlonia, Frascati, Italy | 1907 | Oil on canvas | 714 x 565 cms | 281 x 222 ^1/4 ins | Art Institute of Chicago | Chicago, United States

What a Water Fast Feels Like

Here I am on a self-induced hunger fast. Why? To see how far I can go, like a long jump.

24 Hours Fasting:

Tuesday @ 7 P.M. — Wednesday 7 P.M., was day # 1, and I was grinding my teeth. Piña Colada smoothies from Yellow Deli in Chattanooga was tempting. I almost compromised, but I didn’t want that feeling of regret, like when I desperately eat a black bean chalupa from Taco Bell.

48 Hours Fasting:

Wednesday 7 P.M. — Thursday  7 P.M., was day # 2, and I was halfway there. I felt weak and hypoglycemic, so I loaded my lancet tool to prick my trembling finger for blood. My blood sugar level — 73. Low enough. I shared a cup of chia tea latte with myself.

72 Hours Fasting:

Thursday 7 P.M. — Friday 7 P.M. was  day # 3, and I had a lot more time in my day to write, paint, and sleep to pass the time away. Not to plan, prepare, consume, or pay for food was more liberating than I imagined. Opening and shutting the refrigerator door for security reasons soothed something. Seven was bedtime, so I could suppress my hunger a little longer.

84 Hours Fasting:

Friday 7 P.M. — Saturday 7 A.M. — into day # 4, and I went to bed with a headache on an empty stomach. I broke my fast the next morning with a plate of peaches. I didn’t feel hungry, but I ate any way for social reasons, proving I don’t need much of anything.

§tacy §weeney, RN