Don’t ask me why (because I don’t have an answer), but somehow in this head of mine I decided — without much thought (obviously) — that for Lent, I’d really make a sacrifice. I decided to fast.
Many of you may remember that last December I decided to see what it was truly like to live on very, very limited funds for food with a SNAP Challenge. Maybe somewhere in my psyche this propelled me to come up with this crazy idea to fast. For those not in the know–the Christian season of Lent is 40 days and 40 nights. Yes, forty. Four, zero days, and four, zero nights. *blink*
I know, I can’t believe it either. Maybe there’s some leeway here? Monday to Friday, off Saturday and Sunday? Seriously, what would Jesus do? Hmmm…Maybe I should call my church. Actually, I will call my church. Let’s see what they say in the matter.
What day and night is it at this point? I’ve lost track, and folks, I’m not sure I’m gonna make it. My head aches slightly. Actually, I’m not sure if it’s really aching or I think it’s aching. I can’t tell. Needless to say, I’m concerned about this sacrifice. I just don’t want to be delirious. Sassy Spitfire, my 85-year old aunt, is already warning me about the possibility of my blood sugar dropping and me passing out. Great. She’s put this in my head. Now, I’m paranoid. (Old people. They always do that mess.) *looks over at my empty shake container*
Does my “fast” qualify as a fast? I’ll ask the church this too. I mean, the robed ones should have these answers, right? This is Lent. In their world, this is like an All Star Game, albeit very solemn. They live for this stuff.
Okay, so, I’m only having liquids until after sundown — then, I eat. That means at least two shakes per day, perhaps a cup of tea or two, water, perhaps a mixed non-alcoholic beverage (yes, the intake of cocktails have been curbed–not eliminated, just curbed–let’s not go crazy here), and that’s it. Once it’s dinner time, I am very much hungry, and so a good meal is necessary. On my plate is always protein, vegetables and some sort of starch. Not too heavy, after all, it’s late in the day and your body tends to be more sedentary.
Sigh. This is going to be…one…long…Lent.
*looks again at empty shake container*
(This blog post may be the shortest I’ve ever penned. I can’t type any more. I’m too weak. Okay, maybe a little melodramatic. I’m fine. I just wish I could have a piece of The West Indian Mother’s cake sitting in the refrigerator. You remember she sent a care package near the end of January, don’t you? She does this occasionally. I feel like I’m being tortured. *sobs quietly on the inside* Pray for me.)