At 3:48 am a pounding headache woke me up. My tinnitus rang as loud as a fire alarm and my head felt like I’d just been cold cocked by an angry drunk after telling him he’d have to get through me before I’d let him pummel my little brother. For a brief moment, I thought I might die. Was it November 11, 2076 already?
As I lay in the dark, a loud rumbling reverberated through my diaphragm as if my bed was atop the epicenter of a 7.5 magnitude earthquake. But it wasn’t an earthquake. It was just my stomach reminding me of my monthly fasting experiment.
I got out of bed and shuffled to the front room. The room glowed pale yellow from the city street lights. In a heart shaped candy dish I found the caramel flavored, silvery red Hershey’s Kisses my wife had lovingly put there for Valentine’s Day.
I fished one out of the pile, tore it open, and popped it into my mouth. With the pointed end on my tongue, I wedged the flat end to the roof of my mouth until it stuck. As I rolled the aluminum wrapper into a tight ball, the sugar, corn syrup and milk chocolate slowly descended my throat like magma from Mount Kelut’s core. I smiled.
Back in bed, the caramel and chocolate continued to flow quieting the tinnitus, taming my rumbling stomach and soothing my brain.
Moments later I was asleep.
In the morning, remnants of the migraine remained. And it wasn’t completely gone until a two-egg, ham and swiss omelet and two pieces of toast nestled snugly in my stomach. That tasted great.
31 hours without food. This time it was rough. But if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. Anything worth doing like joggling for 50 miles, balancing a hat on your nose for a minute, joggling for 400 days straight, or starving yourself for a day should be a little tough. It builds character.