Dearest Rachel -
These letters aren't meant to be a confessional of any sort, but occasionally I feel a little compelled to do so regardless. And I know the thing that I'd be confessing this morning wouldn't be of any concern to you – while I don't think we we exactly enabled each other, we also didn't make an effort to keep each other accountable to much in the way of certain disciplines – but I feel the need to tell you about it in any event, particularly since it regards a promise not kept.
You're well aware at this point that I try to make a habit of fasting on weekends when I'm on assignment in the booth at church these days. I have a respectable (if not overly large) lunch on Saturday before reporting in, and then not bother with anything until Monday morning. You've probably also heard me tell about the significant (if somewhat temporary) results of such efforts, which has prompted me to make even more of a habit of it; believe me, I wouldn't try to put myself through the process if there weren't noticeable results. To be sure, I'd set it aside while I was traveling, but considering I wasn't working the booth during that time, that's to have been expected.
Mind you, this deliberate effort hardly counts as starvation; I'm in no danger of going full Karen Carpenter, here. Forty or fifty hours at a time of not eating, when done judiciously, isn't going to kill me. After all, I've discovered (or rather, re-discovered) just how little energy I burn up in a given day here at home, and by extension, how little I need to consume in order to maintain those necessary energy levels in any given day. Basically, I could benefit from consuming that much less than I do, far more than I might be in any danger from going without. And considering the effort it takes to prepare a reasonable meal for myself, it's actually easier to not even bother now and again, and (hopefully) watch the pounds melt off.
However, the problem with this practice is that it's not always a matter of preparation. After so long on the cruise ship, where nearly everything is prepared (and already paid for) for you, it is a bit of a… well, a shock would be overstating things. It's just something that takes getting used to again, like buying groceries and paying the check in a restaurant. But part of that former activity includes the fact that there's so much in the way of pre-packaged stuff – just grab it out of the pantry when you're feeling peckish, and have at it – and we have quite a lot of it. To deliberately ignore all that stuff for a whole weekend is a real challenge of willpower.
And while it's easier to do so when I'm otherwise occupied and away from the house – which is why I only try to do this on weekends when I'm working the booth – it's surprising how and where you find yourself being confronted by temptations. There's a line in one of our praise songs that talks about being "pulled… out of that pit," in reference to our salvation; would it be sacrilegious for me to admit that, by the final service on Sunday, I found myself thinking of that "pit" in terms of a barbeque pit, and how I could really go for some barbeque at that point?
It didn't get easier when I got home, either. While Daniel was already home – which surprised me, because I thought he would be at the convention; however, he told me there weren't any panels going on that interested him, so he was taking a break from it before making plans to rejoin Logan for dinner when he was done with his own volunteer work there – and we could sit around and watch YouTube together, which would theoretically keep me from succumbing to temptation and getting myself something to eat, the fact that most of the interesting stuff we hadn't seen together seemed to focus on cooking…
This is probably exacerbated by the fact that I have these particularly unusual flavors that I picked up over in India; would a pie be a better idea for their use as opposed to making beverages out of them?
…thereby making me that much hungrier. Really, the only good thing about the whole situation was that it allowed me to focus my mind on things he and I need (well, want is probably a more accurate word, and it's my wants, not his) to shop for in order to use the coupons from the local supermarket before they expire. I do still need to talk to him about coming with me (and maybe doing dinner with me) this evening to take care of that.
But when he left to meet Logan later in the afternoon, I'd basically had all I could take. I didn't even bother to fix anything; I just got out a few things that I'd picked up at the cheese shop and meat market up by camp on my way home, and started snacking until I ran out of the pita chips. So much for fasting, eh, honey?
I should probably make it clear that I'm not telling you this out of some sense of guilt; I don't feel guilty about cheating on my diet. If I could lose weight while still eating as much as I want, whatever I want, I'd do it. It would be so much easier if I could. If I have any negative emotions about this situation, it's more a matter of disgust or frustration at not being able to stick to my plan – as well as a certain sense of having said I would do this, and not being able to follow through. I don't want to give people the impression that I'm doing something I'm not; to say "look at me, I'm fasting" when I fail after only twenty-four hours or so, that's kind of like lying (and I say "kind of" because, to some people, even twenty-four hours is an accomplishment; since I'm done it before a number of times, though, it's not so much for me).
Still, after hitting the gym this morning, I have to admit that I'm closer to the 220 mark than I have been throughout the entire calendar year. I may not be able to stay at this point – and I might have done better were it not for my lapse yesterday – but I actually got better results than I should have expected. Assuming I can work on my willpower over the course of the summer, maybe I can still get somewhere with this yet.
And having said that, I need to ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, honey. I'm still going to need it.
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