'Scuse the pun, but this 'fasting' business... it has its drawbacks.
Being a former eating disorder sufferer and exercise junkie, I know that 'deep down' I have the willpower for pretty much anything I set my mind on... And hunger pangs aside, I managed the FAST days (500 cal) pretty well. At least, the only eating 500 cals bit... Only hitch? I realised that if I have to survive on that little food, everything else will pretty much go to the wall.
The Adventures of Hungry Gill:
Imagine, if you will, that your consciousness became sort of detached from your body, and you could float upwards, look at yourself and think "what is that odd person doing?" That's me, on a fast day. Not that there was ever any danger of my losing consciousness or anything (500 cals isn't nothing, after all). But it was as if a kind of half-sleeping zombie version of me was staggering around, not quite functioning, definitely not writing, and basically being utterly useless.
I went to the supermarket. Decided to try Lidl which was apparently behind Cora (a large supermarket) in Limoges. Saving money, etc. Could I find the bugger? No. I went around Cora, past Cora, back, in front of Cora, behind Cora (or what I thought was behind Cora). Time ticked on, I was getting late for an interview... But I was determined ... so carried on, until, on a road leading nowhere whilst looking for a place to turn around, I was flashed by a speed camera that I couldn't see.
So - unless I was hallucinating, I'm expecting a bill through the door in the next few days. Which kind of makes the fact I was going to a cheap supermarket pretty pointless.
Diagnosis: lack of food made for extra 'brain fog' and lack of perception.
Felt weak and lethargic - considered ringing to cancel interview. Phone was completely empty of battery...
Diagnosis: lack of food - lack of sharp thinking, lack of charged phone (plus spent evening beforehand preparing calorie counted menu so time was also short).
Next... I got to the 'other' Lidl (drove back out of Limoges to the little one in Feytiat), but didn't have the token or any Euros for the trolley. I gave my token away the other day to a couple in the supermarket car-park (note to self: stop being nice to people, Karma clearly doesn't WORK), so had to go in to supermarket, baby balanced on arm, 45 mins to go until interview, and cadge one from one of the women inside. (Didn't tell her my theory about Karma, in case that's what she was banking on when giving it to me).
Diagnosis: OK, I can't blame the lack of food for me not having a trolley token. But hey, I'm going to. It was the DIET's FAULT officer.
Shopping done, I now had 0 minutes to the interview I was meant to do in the centre of Limoges... I told myself that if the SatNav said it was 25 mins away or more, I wouldn't go. I'd just go home... It was 13 mins... Bugger.
Diagnosis: well, that's just me - Mrs OCD making stupid rules for myself. But still also blaming diet. Because I can.
On finding the road in question, I also found it was 'gated'. Assume I could have rung and been admitted, but it was such a shock (this is France after all) that I drove on, looking for somewhere to park. Spent so long trying to ascertain whether a space was big enough that I'd driven past by the time I realised it probably had been.
Diagnosis: HA! This one CAN be attributed to hunger/lethargy. Lack of perception/thinking skills. See! See!! Not my fault. So.
In the end, found another space, but realised it was on a meter. Meters aren't expensive in Limoges, but I had not thought to bring any cash with me. Rustled up three 20 cent coins from the bottom of handbag (lurking amongst crumbs). These bought me about 24 minutes.
Diagnosis: OK, I have to accept that I rarely have cash on me, and could sometimes be described as little 'disorganised.' But a more astute Gill may have thought to bring some change with her.
Crammed baby into arms, and began to race to interview. Arrived, made excuses, took quick photo, decided to do telephone interview next week, got back to car with minute to spare. The final insult? If I'd had one more 20cent piece, it would have bought me another 2 hours - they don't charge once you get to lunchtime.... of course.
Diagnosis: surely a sign from the universe that Lunchtime is important?
So, impression of journalist person who turned up from perspective of interviewee. Sweaty woman with baby on hip and camera on the other. Baby lacks sock and is dribbling. Milk clutched between teeth (of woman - baby is gummy), journo disappears back down the road before 60 cents worth of parking runs out...
In short, not exactly professional, certainly not productive, and definitely not fun.
Lesson learned - I need food to function.
Yes, I lost 1.4 kilos in a week.
But I also lost 2 days...