I like food.
I don’t like skipping meals.
Sometimes I can’t avoid missing them. Obligations arise and I have to do something for a few hours nonstop.
Sometimes I know the only options are so disappointing, unfulfilling, or involve so much plastic, oil, or other things that will lead me to regret that I’d rather eat a big next meal than what’s available.
Most of my life skipping a meal meant feeling hungry.
My 3-day fast a couple weeks ago decreased my feeling of hunger more than I expected.
While hunger has a physical component, I now know that a few hours without food is almost negligible compared to three days.
The mental component seems more important. While I still feel some hunger, it’s more like a reminder than a burden or pain, which is how I might have characterized hunger before.
I’m not sure how long the trend will last, but it’s interesting to observe. At lunch with family the other day at a restaurant I knew would serve only comfort food, and my fridge overflowing with fresh, delicious vegetables I had to finish by the next week, I just chose not to eat there. It wasn’t that hard.
Not eating with food in front of me while others ate used to be hard. Maybe it will become hard again. For now I feel as if I’ve been released from a burden.
I’m not eating less. I’m just more flexible about the timing. Having more body fat would probably increase that flexibility to where I could skip more meals and make it easier, but I am where I am.
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