These weeks in quarantine keep passing by. Sometimes I’ll be sat in isolation by the window and watch as groups of vagabonds will stroll along down by the main road. All without masks and walking about in groups of four or five. Corona criminals. They seem to like drinking bottles of corona beer. Probably an act of defiance and self amusement. Most other times I’ll be reading, writing, listening to music. I love these things, but I also enjoy being challenged.
I sat there one of the days letting the urge fester until eventually an idea sprung to mind. ‘Isn’t fasting supposed to be good for the immune system,’ I thought. And now seemed to be a good time to have a vitalic immune system.
I started to dig. Checking on Ecosia for articles relating to health benefits when fasting. I’d got it wrong. Judging by what I found I’d got it the opposite way around, fasting actually weakens the immune system.
‘Well that’s it then, I’ll just have to think up some other challenge,’ I said to myself.
Then I read on…. ‘The immune system is replenished with new white blood cells as soon as you start eating again. Making the immune system much much stronger than before.’
Hallelujah! Let’s do it!
I figured 24 hours would be enough, but then I read more, ‘Huge spikes in growth hormone production (up to 2000%) happen after 12 hours. Growth hormone secretion can turn back the clock and having you feeling way younger than normal. That’s why you see pictures of Sylvester Stallone running around the gym like a guy in his 20’s even though he’s 73. Although, he takes the synthetic stuff.
From 18 hours onwards begins the autophagy stage. By 48 hours you begin to produce more mitochondria and stem cells become utilized. Beginning a healing process on wherever the body needs it.’
Who are the crackpots that write this stuff. With all the corona nonsense going on I didn’t know who to believe anymore. You’ll have one scientist saying one thing, another saying the opposite. Wear a mask. Don’t wear a mask. Stay two metres apart. Stay one metre apart. Who was making up the rules?
I began the fast anyway and followed the advice I’d heard. I drank plenty of water. I put salt under my tongue if I felt hungry. The strangest part was at the end of the first 24 hours I didn’t actually feel hungry at all.
‘Fuck it,’ I thought, ‘I’ll do 48 hours instead, see what happens with the stem cells, if they fix this shoulder injury that would be a huge blessing.’
So I went to bed early and expected to wake up feeling ravenous. It was the strangest thing. I didn’t feel hungry at all. I lay there in bed and did the obligatory two hour phone app loop. Whatsapp. Instagram. All that jazz. I really needed to stop it. The phone was taking over my life. But there was no hunger, not even slightly.
I proceeded with my day as normal, reading, writing, a little bit of cleaning. Still nothing. By the time the evening rolled around I had a vague gnawing urge to eat but it was no less urgent than the feeling of knowing the wet clothes were waiting to be hung out to dry. In fact, truth be told I only ate since I knew the time was up and I’d completed the task. It wasn’t even some culinary speciality either, a simple celebratory fried egg sandwich. I’ve since been scolded for the choice, ‘You’re supposed to break a fast by drinking fruit juice!’ I must have had several messages saying the same thing.
Well I survived to tell the tale and I don’t feel any different to before so it can’t be all that important.
Bit disappointing that I still just look and feel the same. I had high hopes of suddenly having radiant skin and feeling eighteen again, maybe getting random boners in the middle of the day. Oh well, maybe I’ll try the three to five day fast next time, see how that works out.