I had never been overweight before the nightmarish ordeal of choking down each spoonful, transfixed by the sight of livery lips slurping and gnarled, age-spotted hands curled over the rim of the bowl. I was 9 years old. I didn’t want to eat; but as always, I didn’t have a choice.
My relationship with food has been fundamentally altered.
What am I swallowing with the food? Have I become my own tormentor? Am I forcing myself to swallow to avoid thinking? What am I afraid of seeing if I open my eyes?
I don’t know.
My body is satiated by the powdered ersatz food, but my mind is flailing around ravenously.
I’ve lost 20 pounds in the first 3 weeks of fasting and I thought that the worst of the cravings was over. I think I am feeling the urge to self-sabotage.