Last week I was part of a group that had decided to take a day and fast. I knew this day was coming but I was undecided as to if I would participate in the fast.
The day before the fast, I decided I would do it. My intentions were mixed. I knew I'd see a smaller number on the scale, I knew I'd like the feeling of being empty, but I also knew I wanted to join in this group effort of prayer and fasting.
By 11am, I had broke my fast.
It's not that I was too weak or that I couldn't do it.
I could do it.
And that's what scared me.
I found myself irritable, crabby and battling thoughts of the past.
"You should go on a walk to burn more calories", "keep moving to burn more calories", "you could do this for days", "empty feels so good".
What good is it to fast, for a specific spiritual purpose, when the only thought that consumes you is weight loss?
That's why I ate a large bagel, smothered in strawberry cream cheese.
I prayed about it and felt at peace. I continued to pray throughout the day with the group of people I was with, even though I didn't tell them the real reason I was no longer fasting. I said it was because I'm breastfeeding, which was partly the truth.
You know what though? The number on my scale stayed the same, the old thoughts were gone, and I felt like I accomplished something really big: I said no.
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