I was re-reading my blog posts today, longing for the time when I actually wrote them, and was particularly struck by Superstar from about this time last year. April 23, 2019, in fact. According to my blog, about 10 months ago, I lost 50 lbs and converted to Catholicism. The soul-saving part of Superstar is another blog post; let’s talk about the more mundane body stuff.

It took me about 17 months (Jan 2018-May 2019)to lose 50 lbs. I don’t know if that is fast or slow; I don’t remember if it was hard or not. Now that it’s done, it all seems about right. Over the last 10 months, I have lost another 20 or so pounds using a strategy or diet or, I am supposed to say, “way of life” that involves not eating for large portions of the day and eating one or two meals during a limited window. I usually do 19 hours out of 24 fasted (half of that is overnight while I am sleeping) and allow 5 hours from 2:30-7:30 pm for eating. On Fridays, I do a longer, extended fast & have breakfast on Saturday morning with the fam. I can truly say that my weight loss and food management has been, for the last 10 months, easy. I’ve had moments of noxious bad breath (the hot, dry exhaust of my powerhouse metabolism), episodes of hangry, and smatterings of WTF, but for the most part, it’s been easy. Too easy.

What kind of modern woman would I be if I simply accepted the good things that came my way without complaint? Please, that’s settling!

So a few weeks ago, I decided to add multiple days a week of extended fasting to my routine. This means rather than having a meal every 19 hrs or so, I have two meals every 36-40 hours or so. So I go a full day without eating. For example, 8 pm Sunday night to 12 noon Tuesday. In fact, I did this pattern three times last week—skipped food altogether on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Yes, I know, I know.

Thursday, about 19hrs into my 40 hour fast, I asked myself, “Why?” Why do I have to up the volume of this fast to the point where it hurts? The answer? For 5 more pounds. I just want to lose 5 more pounds. The perpetual 5. More. Pounds.

And then it will be another 5. And 5 more. And one last 5…. We all know we are just “one stomach flu away from our goal weight.”

I am addicted to trying to lose weight—not to losing weight (I’m in no way anorexic) but to feeling like I should lose weight. I can think of very few periods in my life when I was not trying to get into smaller clothes. What does it feel like to settle into the body I have? What does it feel like to stop wanting to have a smaller, tighter, more attractive body? I am not sure. But I think it starts with eating.