College Experiment

If you've ever gone to college, you would know that, other than getting an education, there are some essential "activities" one could indulge in.  One is supporting the school's athletic teams.  If your school sucked, you would move onto other (in)appropriate "activities".  Living in a dorm away from the parents lent itself to being completely and utterly a pig.  Cleaning up was an "activity" best ignored.  Until you had to move out after a year and a dumpster was moved into place under your dorm window.  Not a pretty sight.

Another far more uplifting "activity" was going to the bars (music, beverages, companionship) or sticking around campus and going to events (boring).  Living in near-arctic conditions 7 months of the year meant one had to think, really think, of "activities" to do inside the dorm (sterile), in a bar (somewhat restrictive) or apartment/house (party).  Seeing that this is not the appropriate forum to divulge any references to anything digested, absorbed or otherwise consumed, I will leave it to the imaginations or memories of yourself or others to fill in the blanks.

One "activity", whilst living in a house, concerned myself and two roomies, Kevin K. and Brad W.  It was actually an experiment called fasting.  We've all heard about the self-imposed, solid food deprivation designed to clean out your toxins that have built up from other "activities".  Cooking (an "activity" best ignored) was minimal.  Warmed-up Cheetos (dairy), stale beer (protein), milk, cold cereal and bread, lots of bread, was pretty much it.  So, it seemed safe to do a three-dayer.  No, not binge drinking.  But three glorious days of just liquids.  Water and juices, but no booze.  Healthy?  Kinda.  Well-planned?  Nope.

This was all suggested by the healthiest one, Kevin K.  He would always pop vitamins (I assumed they were vitamins), crunch granola and wheat germ on a consistent basis.  He thought up the idea and wanted all of us to participate in this starvation exercise.  Misery loves company.  We absurdly agreed but there had to be some reward.  The reward would be: improved health.  Ya, right.

The first day was easy.  Already skinny, I didn't need a lot of calories.  So, juices and water wasn't a big deal, unless someone would offer pizza.  Big weakness.  After a day of educational absorption (a little filling), I got back to the house to find our guru, our health-nut, our inspiration, on the couch with a smile on his face, tomato sauce on his shirt and an almost finished pizza on his lap.  That was soon to be also on his face.  'Sorry' was all he could say (was that spicy Italian sausage and mushrooms in his jowls?) after a loud obnoxious belch and a swig of PBR.  'You can do another two days, Alto.  I have faith in you.'  My nose and taste buds consumed the vapors (subconsciously filling).  'Thanks, leader of the health nuts'.  That night I dreamed of peanuts, cashews, walnuts as toppings on a pizza.  Strangely I felt satisfied.

The next day, full of orange juice and water and sloshing home after another filling day of education, I walked in on my other roomie, Brad W., all 6'3 of him, with a smile on his face, tomato sauce on his shirt and an almost finished pizza on his lap.  Deja vu.  'What's with you guys and pizza'.

The third day seemed to be a dream (or nightmare), all foggy and light, translucent and weightless.  This is what it feels like to be healthy?  Truly amazing feeling.  Floating.  Balloon-like.  I almost passed out a few times, but my will (stubbornness) to succeed and become healthy was overwhelming.  I made it till midnight, when I euphorically and metaphorically jumped up (didn't have to 'cause I floated up) and proudly declared I was the wiener, er, winner.  Nobody was around (they were probably stuffing their faces with 'zza) and nobody cared.  Except my mouth, tongue and stomach.  They sure as hell cared.  I then found myself (beginning to fade away) in a pizza joint.  Was this a dream?  I was consuming a large spicy Italian sausage and mushroom pizza.  Alone.  Was this a dream?  How satisfying.  How succulent.  How greasy.  How stupid.  At roughly 3 AM, I was woken by my body swathed in sweat and in the fetal position.  The rest of the morning and the rest of the day, I was headfirst in the porcelain.  Wishing I would just die.  My healthy, nutty friend stuck his head into the bathroom.  You should have had something like Cream of Wheat or toast, he said.  Thanks for letting me in on that one, I spit.  He congratulated me.  I am now the healthiest in the house.