Fast Day Fail

Somehow, I was fasting on the worst day of my period, ie. the first day. My back and ovaries were fucking killing me, and all I wanted was some pain relief. I didn't want to eat anything until later in the day, so I needed medication that I could take on an empty stomach. I normally wander around with considerable amounts of meds on me (like, I'd-feel-nervous-going-through-airport-security-with-this-much amounts), so I delved into my bag to see what I could take. Co-codamol? No. Ibuprofen? No. Co-dydramol that I am supposed to take for my dodgy hip? No. Turns out the only motherfucking thing I could take was paracetamol, WHICH I DID NOT HAVE. Fucking great. Funnily enough, I managed to get through the day and my ovaries (I have no idea if it's the actual ovaries that ache, or the tubings or what) just stopped hurting by lunch. So I learnt something at least.

Another thing I learnt is that eggs are no good to me on fast days, like seriously NOT USEFUL. I need to stop eating them as they just aren't filling enough. The recipe was two eggs mixed with a bit of light mayo, curry powder and black pepper — I then used this as a filling for a few gem lettuce wraps and ate them with a bit of salad. Tasty, but not satisfying (unless between two big slices of granary bread). Still, I managed to last until 3pm before eating — woo!

Most pathetic picture ever. I tried to arrange the
chilli artistically, but I'm not sure it worked.

By 6pm, I had the headache from hell. I didn't feel like this on my other two fast days, so I am definitely blaming Aunt Blood (thank you, Tina Fey). It felt like my skull was shrinking by the minute. Writing started to look 3D on sheets of paper… I couldn't focus on what people were saying to me… my contact lenses were making my eyes ache… I just wanted some peace and quiet. But still, like a trooper, I fasted. 

THEN SHIT GOT REAL. I got home at about 9.15pm and started cooking dinner for myself and the BF. I was going to have a bit of pork with stir-fried vegetables, and he was going to have the same but with noodles and a Wagamama sauce — easy. What could go wrong, eh? FUCKING EVERYTHING.  

I made his stir fry and it looked delicious, noodles glistening in the sauce. Then I made mine. It, however, looked sad and lonely. So I cheered it up with some Wagamama sauce, which cost me about 58 calories. I then proceeded to inhale my food in front of the TV. It barely touched the sides, so I then got a WW coconut yoghurt from the fridge. The next 8 seconds are hazy… I ate the yoghurt and went to put the pot in the bin, but then I opened the cupboard, had a piece of chocolate, and closed the cupboard. And then I opened the cupboard again and had a small piece of Daim bar. And then I was about to stuff another piece of chocolate into my giant gob, but then I snapped the elastic band on my wrist several times (ha, a bit fuckin' late for that, love!) and CLOSED THE FUCKING CUPBOARD. Total damage = 690 calories. Shame on me.

Now, this is embarrassing for several reasons, but the main one is that my BF will read this and find out all this was happening in secret, mere feet away. But seeing as I wasn't even going to mention the food fiasco on this blog (I know, SHAME!) and I've now actually come clean, I think we should just all calm down and give me a chance. Yes, it was weak-willed. Yes, I am still (cheekily) going to call it a fast day. Yes, I am giving this diet a bad name. But I am now wiser. 

I should not cook on my fast day, for myself or my partner. It's too easy to start allowing a shake of this and a splash of that when it's just there in the cupboard. I need to get my food all ready and measured the night before, so there is no room to dick about on a fast day. It's possible that fasting on the first day of lady time is also not a good idea either. And it looks like soups and salads are going to be the most sensible option — that's what I ate on my most successful fast day (yeah, of my whopping 2.5 days) and I was absolutely fine. 

I banished myself to bed that night at about 10.15pm. I think I might love sleeping even more than eating, so this was the only thing that was going to make me feel better (yup, after all that chocolate I apparently needed to treat myself even more). It was depressingly early, but I convinced myself I would get up in a bit and practise my bass for a little while. Not so. Next thing I know, it's 12.23am and my boyfriend is asking if he should turn the light off. However, I had an excellent night's sleep and even did a run that morning, (which I wasn't planning to do), so at least there was some kind of happy ending.  
What is important though, is the fact that I feel good at the moment. I like the feeling of a flat(ish) stomach on fast days. I like looking in the mirror and knowing I am making some changes for the better. I like my new running pouch and leggings. I never thought I would say this, but I like the fact that I enjoy my runs in the morning. I like the structure I am getting from my Couch-to-5k app. I like the fact my calves aren't burning after running (probably because I run sooooooo fucking slowly that they don't even have my speed as an option on myfitnesspal — whoops). I like the fact that I will fit back into some of my clothes soon.

So I am allowing myself to have a 690-calorie splurge on ONE fast day.  

It's not the end of the world.*



* It might be the end of the world if I haven't lost any weight next Monday. Eheheh.