I awoke with what felt like a rock in my stomach. I could not decide if the food I was eating was causing the ache, or if I was just anxious over not having the money for groceries just yet. Stress can be so debilitating and if it causes you to eat poorly, it can be a killer. Luckily, I usually eat much better than this and my resolve to eat right will carry me through this situation. It was one of the reasons I was so diligent in making sure I stuck to the right portion sizes. How easy it would have been to make twice as much pasta, or have a full two slices of bread for a sandwich, but I didn’t need it. My body does not need that much fuel. It would be like putting petrol in a Ferrari and watching the toxic liquid spill over the sides and ruin the paint job. No, I only need so much at a time. That, I was sure, was going to keep me from making the rest of the week a food nightmare.
Breakfast was the last of the grapefruit, a microwaved egg on top of a slice of toasted spelt bread. As you can see, I have avoided all cheese. The gouda and the cream cheese sit in the refrigerator awaiting their turn to be consumed. Not on your life little gooey bits of goodness, not until the inner workings start working. A cup of tea and a big glass of water accompanied the breakfast fare.
Today’s writing was all about the characters. Giving them a back story, a history. I like to interject bits of history into my stories. It is what I do best. Little factoids that help the reader get into the story. With my first short story, a M/M romance novella titled Scar Tissue, the story takes place in Washington D.C. and the year is 1976. I had a great muscle car in the story, and the descriptives helped place the characters in that time, replete with rotary dial telephones, and loud clothing. For this current work, the time was contemporary, but the characters needed a history. Day Four would be spent giving them a past.
Lunch today was another choice. I really did need to finish the precooked vegetables as they were not frozen after cooking and I DID NOT want them to go to waste. Then again, the avocado was turning a little brown even with the lemon juice I used to keep if from doing just that. I decided on the avocado. I spread avocado on another slice of bread, this time realizing I had eaten more bread in four days then I had in the previous four weeks. Paired it with water and went back to writing.
Supper approached and I was not really hungry, or so I thought. I didn’t feel hungry. I had plenty of water during the day and was frequenting the bathroom regularly. I should be hungry. I plated the last of the vegetables and sat down with a small glass of red wine. This time I skipped the water.
As I started to eat the vegetables, something kicked in. I was ravenous. I devoured the vegetables and headed for the fridge to see what else I could snag. Nothing appealed to me, so I opened the cupboard and took out the can of soup. I heated the soup and doled out the right portion (half a cup), then sat down to finish my meal. The soup was a mistake. I should have had more water instead of the soup. I felt bloated again, and very uncomfortable. I took myself to bed and slept 11 hours. That is not normal for me, at all. My usual sleeping pattern is six to seven hours. Any more and I am groggy. Eleven hours was not a good thing.
Day Four over, and the real trouble begins.