My last meal was finished at 6pm last night and I have had nothing but water, black tea and coffee inbetween.
This is quite incredible as I have never gone without food for more than probably 8 hours before - and then I would have rewarded myself with all the meals I had missed in one sitting.
I am someone who can eat three times a day but that has taken a few years of training. I eat a healthy diet (after 25 years of being a vegetarian/vegan I changed into an obsessive carnivore), I mostly stay away from wheat and sugar and I don't eat processed foods.
But I am obsessed with hunger avoidance. I rarely feel hunger as I paper over the cracks with meals that keep me full until the next time I have assigned for consumption.
Yesterday, I skim read The Fast Diet, which is based on the BBC's Horizon programme 'Eat, Fast, Live Longer'. The premise is that Intermittent Fasting is good for you - you might lose some weight as you push your body into fat-burning (if you do it regularly) and you might also live a bit longer and be less likely to lose your marbles, or your health, along the way.
The book suggests eating 500 calories for women (600 for men) two days a week and eating whatever you like on the other five days.
So I decided to set myself an experiment to see if I could survive a whole day without food.
I know deep-down that I need to eat less and not be scared of hunger causing me to expire in a feminine kind of fainting mess.
Last night I ate my meal of mince with a swede/carrot mash along with lots of buttery kale and followed with some natural yoghurt. I downed a glass of red (well you have to, don't you) and that was it.
14 hours later I was getting ready for the school run with a little more time on my hands as I hadn't needed to feed myself. I was busy at work this morning so I barely noticed until 1pm (my normal lunchtime) when I popped home - but I was five feet away from the fridge and really didn't feel the need to inhale it.
The toughest time was around the 21 hour mark when I was a little bored at my desk and focussed in on some digestive rumbling.
Here I am (23 hours, 30 minutes) and I am not as desperate for the end of my curfew as I thought I would be. There is a bowl of homemade broth clingfilmed and ready to go in the microwave (as I was worried that I would make all kinds of daft decisions) but as it is, my night out with friends has been cancelled and I am not sure if there is much to eat in the house.
And that feels OK.