Break Fast

Part I of my detox fast is over and mere words cannot adequately express my joy. But in the event that anyone is interested - I feel GREAT. Of course, that just might be because I ate something today.

Part II started today - 30 days of Bikram yoga. Of all the myriad forms of yoga, bikram is my least favorite - there's something terribly unappealing about a carpeted yoga studio heated to 100 degrees fahrenheit with years of sweat ground into every possible surface.

Especially now that my sense of smell seems distressingly acute...

Writing Desire

Well, that didn't last long. I had one good, non-craving day, but today, The Craving is back. I would happily betray everything and everyone important to me in return for a grilled cheese sandwich. What makes it worse is that this is usually boozy brunch day.

In fact, it is so bad, I got on the phone and signed up for a 5 hour yoga workshop for this afternoon - it was the longest one I could find online. I have to get myself far away from anything I can eat or drink. Unfortunately, it is the kind of yoga that involves a lot of chanting. Despite being a certified yoga instructor, I am about as spiritual as my Amex card, so the chanting/spiritual elements of yoga usually just piss me off. But I suspect I am just so damn weakened right now, I will EAT IT UP.

And while we're on the topic of eating, it has been brought to my attention that I have been writing about sex. Or, rather, that I have been writing about food in a highly sexual way.

Maybe this is the trick - to write sex scenes while hungry, and not with a man in mind, but instead, a perfectly grilled panini with thinly sliced prosciutto, fresh arugula, melted mozzarella, the slightest touch of olive tapenade, and finished off with a lovely drizzle of truffle oil.

Excuse me, just slid off my seat.

Cravings, Tamed

I was told that there would be certain days of this detox fast that will be harder than others, and days that will be easier. Today is my first day of the latter variety. I feel GREAT. Meant to do my usual hour of yoga this morning. I felt so good, it turned into 3 hours.

I dreamt of food again last night, but not in a visceral, immediate, "oh god I must have it NOW" kind of way, but more in the "isn't that nice, I'm content to enjoy just looking at it" kind of way.

When I was young, our next-door neighbor's nephew would visit during the summers and he and I would run around the neighborhood together.

One summer, when I was about 10 or 11 (he was about the same age), we were sitting on the picnic table in my backyard when he asked me, "Can I see your butt?"

I considered his request and couldn't see a downside, so I hopped off the table and pulled down my shorts long enough for him to see my rear.

After I hopped back on the picnic table, we sat for awhile and then he asked, "Do you want to see my butt?"

I considered his offer and couldn't see an upside, so I politely declined.

I'm feeling much the same way about all my former cravings right now: "No thank you, I'll pass."

OM

So what do you do on a Friday night when you can't eat or drink?

Exactly. I couldn't think of anything either.

So I went to a 2 hour yoga class tonight. And can you believe it, the studio was lousy with people all with the same idea - not because they were detoxing, but because a Friday night yoga class is their idea of FUN.

I've never felt so alone.

I Will Survive

I was talking to SK yesterday as I was waiting for my New Love to be delivered to me. And all I can say is that denial does strange things to a person. I couldn't actually focus on anything she was saying to me, I was too busy pressing my face up against the glass of my kitchen window, looking for a delivery truck, and getting increasingly agitated. I think I may have started hyper-ventilating as well. SK tried to reassure me by pointing out that I'd be this much of a freak even if I had been eating and drinking.

I thought I'd be in a highly weakened physical state by now, but that hasn't been the case. If anything, my normal state is now punctuated by moments of extreme frenzy - and not necessarily related to food. I got it into my head the other day that I desperately needed more bath salts from Sabon, so I threw on my coat and ran out the door. 30 minutes later, I was power walking around Union Square with no idea why I had left my apartment. I only remembered later that evening when I took a bath and found my plentiful stash of bath salts.

Here's a list detailing how detox is affecting me:

• I'm talking a little too quickly
• I find myself unable to maintain eye contact without getting really antsy
• I have trouble concentrating
  
• I pendulum wildly between crankiness and calling everyone "darling"
• I spend a little too much time sniffing my New Love

And the universe is trying to thwart my detox:

• SH, the owner of the market across the street, called me to see if I wanted her to bring me some Korean food
• TO texted me asking where the fuck I have been and have I been cheating on him by drinking at another bar
• On my way to the laundromat, the guys at Ray's pizza waved at me, in a way I construed as particularly mocking
• On my way to the bank, I ran into the corner diner delivery guy who said, "Hi Honey, no grilled cheese today?"
• CL emailed me yesterday and offered to come over with a pizza and a bottle of wine
• BB mocked me by telling me that he just happened to throw a perfectly good tin of low sodium spam into the river. Although, this may have been a joke. I lost my sense of humor a couple days ago.
  

But I am staying strong. For now.

New Love

Spanish, dark, beautiful, perfectly sized, always ready, and vibrates at my slightest touch....



If only I could figure out how to eat it.

Will Work For Food

Dreamt of those juicy little dumplings that squirt when you bite into them. You know, the kind where that salty goodness explodes in your mouth and runs down your chin and you lick your lips and fingers and wish your tongue were several inches longer.

Good god, I will have sex with the first person who walks through my door bearing a tin of low-sodium spam.

The Universe Is Self-Correcting

My detox fast is affecting my nearest and dearest - they are having weird "sympathetic" reactions.

• WC informed me that she has been constipated and unhappy because of it the last several days.
• SK has been eating for two.
• IC is now giggling at every meal. And ate a potato chip while on the phone with me just now.
  

Whatever.

I'm Not Happy

IC: (makes a joke)
Me: (stony silence)
IC: Well, I guess you're at the point in your fast where you've lost your sense of humor.
Me: (stonier silence)

NOTHING is REMOTELY entertaining or funny right now. The world is a dark dark place filled with things I cannot drink or eat.

Tantalus, I'm right there with ya, babe. And BTW, don't know what all the fuss was about re: cooking your son and offering him up to the gods. Stir fried, with a little garlic and ginger and soy sauce... I'm sure he was D-LISH.

Sh*t F*cking Sp*rm Burping Gutter Slut

Detox is a bitch.

In Dreams

Lord, the dreams I am dreaming.

Anais Nin, in Delta of Venus, wrote of a young woman in a sexual relationship with her adopted father (I know, Anais was VERY naughty). The young woman one day tells her soon-to-be lover, "Your hands, all night I dreamt of your hands."

My dreams are nothing like that.

I am dreaming of FOOD. Endless amounts of it. Fragrant and luscious and firm and sweet and salty and tangy and messy and neat and secret and public and overflowing.

Non Boozy Activities

"What does dung tell you?"

WC and I obediently considered this question as it was printed on a very large sign at the zoo today.

WC informed me that her dung tells her everything she ate the day before. That brought up lovely memories of eating.

We saw squirrels, a tiger, a couple snow leopards, and a few giraffes. Also some monkeys. And a bear that appeared to have had one too many cocktails. We chased a few peacocks that were just aimlessly wandering around. Everything looked delicious.

To make the zoo seem more zoo-like, there were loudspeakers piping in wild animal noises. At one point, WC and I were looking at a bird of some sort. There was a man near us telling his friend, excitedly, that if he listened carefully, he could hear the bird chirp. WC and I looked up at the loudspeaker above his head but we chose not to disillusion him. Besides, the bird looked really scrawny - all bones and feathers and not a lot of meat at all.

Buzz Kill

What do you do to cheer yourself up?

The cold is pissing me off, wearing me down, draining me of my will to do yoga.

Of course, it could be the lack of booze and solid food making me cranky. And it's only the first day of my fast. This doesn't bode well.

In Hong Kong, when struck with the mean reds, I would wrap an Hermes scarf around my head, don my biggest sunglasses, and have a drink in some trendy place while assiduously avoiding all eye contact. This was so much fun I started doing it even when I was in a perfectly good mood, until one day SL spotted me, sat down next to me, and asked, reasonably enough, "C-Belle, what the fuck are you doing?" SL is ACTUALLY famous - you can see her anchoring her own show on Bloomberg Asia the next time you are in that part of the world.

She totally killed my buzz. I hissed at her to go away but she refused so I had to give up the gig, take off my scarf, and slump down in my seat - all to the great disappointment of the nearby Japanese tourists who had been snapping pictures of me with their camera phones, convinced I was a famous Hong Kong movie star.

What I would give right now for a cocktail and something to chew.

More On Writing Sex

"Release your inner slut," advises the description of the upcoming "Talk Dirty to Me" Co-Ed Sex Ed Class & Social Mixer. And it continues: "From moans and groans, to long sentences detailing what you want now, good dirty talk is about being authentic." Takes place January 26th - birthday party idea?

I am beside myself with joy. I am hopeful this will revive my seriously flaccid trashy novel. Trashy novels NEED sex scenes, and perhaps with my upcoming schedule of events lined up for January, I'll finally be able to put pen to paper and let loose a torrent of steaminess.

January 17th: In The Flesh Erotic Reading Series

January 22nd: Best Sex Writing 2008 Book Party/Reading

January 27th: Erotic Love Letter Workshop

SK is convinced she might just die of embarrassment, but I assured her that death by embarrassment would be far more likely during our pole-dancing classes.

I've spent the past year repeatedly killing off my trashy novel's main characters in the most gruesome ways possible. Maybe now I'll have them talk dirty to each other and get down to business. I'm so excited I'm shimmying in my seat.

I don't need to remember sex, I can find inspiration from the filthy minds of others. I love it. Plus, these are events during which I need consume nothing (my detox fast, in mind).

So while I can barely contain myself, I will approach this seriously, notebook in hand. Because after all, as Samantha Jones said, "Honey, they don't call it a job for nothing!"

I am curious to learn what else will seem like a good idea to me this month when I am teetering about in a state of deprivation-derived delirium.

Eat Meat

When I was in Beijing, one day a Chinese friend called me to wish me a happy birthday. As it wasn't my birthday, I thanked her but then corrected her mistake. And she replied, "today is your country's birthday, yes? Don't Americans eat grilled meat today?" And so it was, July 4th.

In Hong Kong, I was getting ready to leave the office one evening when my secretary wished me a Happy Buddha's birthday. I thanked her, and luckily thought to ask: "OK, how does that affect me?"

She replied, "Office is closed tomorrow."

This is supposedly the birth of a new year. But since I have spent several years happily celebrating every holiday I can, I think this year, I will lavishly celebrate Chinese New Year.

Apparently, on the first day of the Chinese new year (which falls on February 7th this year) there is quite the list of dos and don'ts:

Don't cut your hair
Don't sweep the floor
Don't drop your chopsticks
Don't borrow or lend money
Wear something red

And something about chopping meat...

But I could be making up that last one. I'm getting hungry in anticipation of my fast.

New Year's Detox

I will be ushering in the New Year by fasting, in every possible way. Extreme detox.

No men, no booze, no smokes, no caffeine, no solid food.

SK and I will meet for yoga twice a week in the evenings so she can confirm I am still mobile. IC will weigh me every Friday to make sure I do not go below my lower weight limit. WC will check in on me once a week and hold a mirror to my nose and mouth to confirm I am still breathing and sprinkle water on me if I look dehydrated.

At boozy brunch yesterday, I asked WC what social activities exist that do not involve booze. I must have been speaking in Urdu because she just looked at me blankly.

My calendar for January looked so virginal that this morning I scheduled in things such as: "shower", "sit around", "be cranky", "crave something" just so I am not mocked by the absence of any real activities.

And while this may sound bleak, I am consumed by excitement. My focus will be inward. Work, yoga, piano and guitar, and dare I hope it? Sleep. The dance classes with IC and SK will wait until February after I have re-introduced myself to solid food. Evidently IC's jazz dance instructor is well worth staring at twice a week for an hour each time.

The good news is that I should be a really cheap date for my birthday. By 6:45PM, with half a glass of wine in me, I should be completely out and my exceedingly tolerant friends can haul my unconscious body to my bed and then continue my birthday celebration without me.

How FUN!