I’m hungry. 

I really wish I could say that just in the goal-achieving sense – that I’m hungry for a great performance in my Boaton qualifying marathon.  But honestly, I’m just hungry. 

When I told my wife yesterday that I wasn’t hungry, I was subtracting out of my personal assessment, the constant psychological murmur that never rests; ‘Hey!  Let’s eat!’.  If I don’t do that deduction, I would have said, ‘I’m hungry’ despite my stomach actually feeling satiated – not full but certainly not empty. 

I just like to eat. 

She rolled her eyes and reminded me of that state I came to almost four years ago where, after a week or two of dieting, my appetite vanished.  I ate until I was full, which was surprisingly about half of what volume I used to cram down.  I just didn’t feel like eating anymore.  When she brought that up, I remembered it with fondness. 

That’s where I want to be. 

But I also remember getting there.  I had to be hungry and let myself stay hungry. I wouldn’t allow myself to do anything about it – just be hungry. 

I don’t like being hungry.  It’s not comfortable when my stomach, like my cat, yowls at me!   But it will get better and my appetite will adjust accordingly. 

It’s a good place to be when your hungry. It means your body is searching for fuel and, if you’re like me at all – there is plenty of fuel to be had. 


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