I Am Not Comparing Myself To A Holocaust Survivor

In fact, I am explicitly comparing myself to participants in the Minnesota Starvation Experiment. I read about them in my grade school SRA reading lab which really deserves a post of its own. Suffice it to say, that I was reading way ahead of grade level in the color coded booklets and that even now, fifty years later, a certain shade of indigo takes me right back to Airport Heights Elementary School. Anyway, the subjects of the experiment agreed to be starved during World War II in order that doctors could understand how to avoid refeeding syndrome, a potentially fatal consequence of unrestrained eating by victims of famine, harsh prison conditions, or in my case months of adherence to my diet plan.
Last Thursday, I weighed less than I had in years. Friday morning, joined by our daughter Sarah, who had flown in unexpectedly ( I didn't expect it; she knew she was coming to surprise me during my belated birthday celebration) we went to Kava for breakfast. I haven't stopped refeeding since then. I have experienced pain, nausea, shame and distention. But, also breakfast fried rice, ice cream, nachos, barley ice cream, pizza, ice cream drumsticks, corn chips, gumbo and a fried peanut butter sandwich. On balance, I guess, a pretty fair trade. Tomorrow, back to work, back on the diet plan, back to my metaphorical Minnesota.

By the way, here's a draft I never got around to posting because I didn't think it was very good, but if we're going to start using that as a standard, or anything else for that matter, I probably wouldn't post anything:
 According to a report on the New York Times Science Podcast, there are only four groups of animals that have large brains and complicated social lives: elephants, great apes, cetaceans, and people. You'd think we'd have most in common with the great apes, but no, in late August it's whales and people that return to their feeding grounds in Alaska to recharge their blubber.  I'm anticipating my autumnal augmentation to prepare for winter, nature's own metaphor for death.
I'm not saying that I'm in great shape now, but I have felt comfortable wearing horizontal stripes.