Food for Thought

     I'm shrinking.

     I've felt it for a while, but didn't know it till last week when, standing on the scale for the first time in two months I confirmed the recent disappearance of 6% of my body weight.

     I didn't mean for it to disappear.  It's not like I needed to lose the weight.  Even before I lost it, if I were a ranch hand, they'd have called me Slim.  Now they'd call me Slimmer.  I do have a spare tire, but I keep it deflated, permitting it to swell only slightly around the holidays before it settles back down in January. 

     So I wasn't dieting.  Intentionally, that is.  It's just that I forget to eat when I'm busy and I've been so busy these past few months that I've missed more meals than I've made. 

     I always eat breakfast, otherwise I'd be dead, for I usually work through lunch and, when I'm busy, I often miss dinner too.  And I'm not the sort to snack.  And I prefer beverages that happen to be as low-calorie as can be, what with my Iced Hawaiians, the occasional Diet Coke and gallons and gallons of water each day.  It's a wonder I survive -- even thrive? -- on next-to-nothing, but I'm not sure how much longer I can let my body consume itself, which is, when you think of it, exactly what it's been doing these past few months.

     And that's a pretty thought, isn't it?  I assume my body knows to eat the fat first, but for all I know it's like Jack Sprat, gorging on the lean.  I imagine it munching away, hollowing me out, leaving nothing but the bones and maybe a few muscles and organs before it goes too far and swallows something vital.  Just thinking of it ruins my appetite.  Which only makes it worse.

     I try to eat, I really do, but I have to admit that even after we dispense with the work, the stress, the anxiety and all the other easily-identifiable barriers to a regular feeding schedule I still have this basic but formidable -- perhaps even impregnable -- problem with eating.  There's just something about screeching to halt and dropping what I'm doing to sit down and attach a feedbag that, well, strikes me as bovine.  As I look around and survey the room I can't help seeing cows chewing cud.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's not the sort of imagery designed to lure me away from more inspiring, though less fortifying, pursuits that occupy my days and nights.

     It's not that I have anything against food.  In fact, I like it.  I have unusually wide-ranging and eclectic tastes.  I am not finicky. I'll try just about anything.  But I don't live to eat, I eat to live.  And I'm not even doing that lately.  Food has never been my habit.  I am not conditioned, like some Pavlovian dog, to get hungry on command, or by pre-arranged schedule, or to satisfy some social obligation.  Unlike you food addicts, I don't crave the stuff, my hands don't shake if I don't get it on time, I don't dream of what I just ate and what I'm about to eat.  I need to think before eating, and when I don't think to eat, I don't.  A watering mouth simply cannot move my occupied mind.  Until my body consumes it, that is. 

     So I'll just keep growing smaller.  I've really got to do something.  Maybe a feeding tube?  Or one of those all-day food pills from the Jetsons?  Perhaps an Anatole? I better think of something soon before I shrink as thin as this blog.

Comments

[Darko]

Simple personal q for you.
When you, your lovely spouse, and, perhaps, a friend or friends that you haven't seen in a while go to a favorite restaurant that you haven't gone to in a while, what do you think of before you depart the house?
Is it one of the many splendours offered at the restaurant that you haven't had a chance to revisit in eons?
Or.
Is it the company of your friend(s) not seen in ages?

This question is a bit trickier than you may think. Remember, you've devoted quite a few posts to The Art (or is it The Curse?) of being an Introvert.

[Susan]

Moooo. Cows always seem so happy to me. Shame that I have to eat them. As you might guess, I have a hard time relating to this post, but I find it fascinating. My sister has this same problem. What makes us so different?

[Oorgo]

I go through almost the same thing at times, eating gets in the way. I also am thin, not gaunt but not fat, sure I have a high metabolism but the fact I don't always enjoy eating doesn't help. Many times I buy things for lunch that just fill my stomach so it stops bothering me. When I do eat though I really eat, most people are aghast at how thin I am and how much I can eat.

[puddleglum]

so relieved to hear this isn't just me. I used to be involved in the dance world and had a moment of panic at one point thinking that I was headed anorexic...but no...

I also find myself getting bored when I finally sit down to eat. kinda like "there are better things to do with my time, and i'm not interested in this anymore"

[Michelle]

I simply hate you people who forget to eat...my hubby is the same. He is constantly bitching about being too thin. Sigh. I am perfectly capable of being engrossed in captivating work and tossing back almonds and chocolate at the same time. I call it multi-tasking. Bovines don't sit at their computers and eat, so I get to avoid that unfortunate comparison...;-)

[R J Keefe]

Happily, the side-effects of malnutrition will kick in before your body starts consuming vital organs.

[MQ]

Hate to be a downer, but unexplained weight loss is an initial sign of a lot of different serious illnesses. Keep an (internal, figurative) ear cocked to listen to the state of your body.

[a]

This seems like an interesting post, but there's a tray of goodies out in the conference room, and I have to hurry over before they're all gone.