Feast 'n' Fast: The chronicles of fasting one day (or longer) and feasting the next.
The plan is to lose weight - preferably a truckload and increase health, fitness, and discipline (spiritual, emotional, and physical).
A feast day means eating without restriction, and a fast day means eating a big fat hole of nothing (black coffee & water are allowed) for a minimum of 16 hours maximum of 72. (Good luck reaching the latter!)
Can I have my cake and eat it too?
Let's see what happens.
Feast 'n' Fast, it's a slippery slope.
When fasting I often get ridiculously cold feet. Today I did the 2pm cut-off feed, choosing poached free range organic eggs, smashed avocado and Parmigiano Reggiano on sourdough toast to get me through until tomorrow. It's been more than 11 hours since I consumed the deliciousness pictured below.
Less than 500 calories, it proved quite sustaining. This is only the second time I've eaten a fast day meal at 2pm. It's do-able, but certainly takes more discipline than my preferred 5 or 6pm eating time.
The longer I go without eating, the colder my feet get.
It is discombobulating sitting here, writing, on a balmy summer night and I'm wearing Uggs! Brrr.
My body may as well be a mullet: Business at the front, party in the back. My feet are freezing cold and the rest of me is positively post-menopausally, hot and flashily bothered.
Earlier this evening we had rehearsal for a gig Cupola is playing next week: The Lands' End Summer Concert Series at Harris Park in a nearby town called Dodgeville. Or, as I like to call it, Dodgey-ville. (Being Aussie, it would be wrong not to).
Now, almost at the end of the third week of this feast 'n' fast caper, I've established a pattern my body is becoming accustomed to, and it is not nearly as difficult as it was those first few days. Generally I've got more energy all 'round. Reason to be cheerful.
During rehearsal I didn't flag at all. My concentration was a little off here and there, but mostly I felt good. Nor was I short tempered and grumpy.
Hallelujah said the drummer. Praise God whispered the guitarist.
Yesterday, being a feast day, we had friends over for dinner. I cooked up a perfect storm. See for yourself:
The blokes drank craft beer and we gals shared a particularly fine, dry Spanish rosé. I forgot to take a pic of the Eton Mess last night so I assembled this one using leftovers, for the drummer around 6pm today. Weirdly, I didn't feel envious of him being the only one able to eat it. Somehow I'm getting pretty good at delayed gratification. I know! Lovin' myself sick.
I've added a new recipe: Butterflied Crispy Skin Chicken with Sumac and Preserved Lemon. It's an absolute doddle to make and yields such big rewards.
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