Joel F

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I had two-thirds of a bowl of cereal for breakfast this morning. It was the last of a bag of HyVee brand cornflakes and dehydrated berries. Plenty of milk left in the jug after filling to just below the brim of the flake pile. A positive cereal to milk ratio = satisfyingly crunchy. I thought about squeezing some grape jelly on a piece of bread and eating it to make up for that missing one-third, but I declined, telling myself if you get hungry you can eat later.
But for the time being I am stuck at my desk and my stomach is growling. It’s kind of sputtering. I can feel intestines flapping, slapping the tip of my sternum. Maybe I should have had a glass of orange juice.
I should be able to go five hours without eating, right? One of my friends from college just fasted for 20 days. He drank coffee, crystal light and water and handled the rest with mind control. To me that seems like a huge, probably not ever possible challenge.
I’m not someone who skips meals. I enjoy eating so much that a lot of the time I take extra bites of food even after I’m full. I want to be overwhelmed with taste. I’m even up for making a competition out of it, like a King Kong burger eating contest or a Last Man Standing China Buffet all-you-can-eat marathon.
Obviously there is no health risk there. I’m a seven-time Globo Gym Champion. But I was thinking about that recent economy episode of South Park. Randy Marsh was preaching about the need for everyone to be able to control his or her own consumption. Why is it that I perceive the idea of lowering my consumption – say somehow being capable of not buying nonstop beer, wine, cigarettes, Jimmy Johns, Red Bull, beer, frozen pizzas, chips, beer pong cups, beer – as an equally impossible of a challenge as fasting for 20 days?