WEIGHTLESS

I have decided I definitely don’t like hunger.  I did once. Once upon a time that edgy, gnawing, inner churning felt like a challenge – a sort of wild drive – a battle I would pledge to win. My strength of character against the petty whining demands of this shell I felt confined in – my body.

But now I am happy … grateful … in awed to dwell here – in my body. And I don’t like it being subjected to punitive pain.

Now hunger, unnecessary hunger, feels like an abuse – like a warming sign – a screaming urgent fire siren. And I panic; concerned to mitigate the damage I think what must be happening in every moment that I stay hungry – in every minute that the hunger stays unsatisfied.  I imagine molecules being destroyed, tissue being impaired, organs harmed, hormones depleted and faculties lost. I rally, vigilant to the cries and anguish of my distressed and dependent organism.

I have decided I don’t like to be distressed; not any more. Calm is the new cool. Deprived is dead.

I am happy to feed my body now … wisely, lusciously, regularly.  I am happy to support and reward and super charge my body with love and good food – to quell the clamouring, to curb the need that rises and falls with each rich and rewarding eating episode. I am happy to pander thoughtfully and diligently to the needs of the flesh – this phenomenal frame I call ‘home’.  I am happy.

Why wait to be happy in your own well fed, well nourished, well cared for body?