Fat Man on a Diet

I think perhaps that great champion of behavioural psychology, the late, B. F. Skinner, would not have been unduly suprised by the reaction I had to a ‘gastric episode’ I experienced last night.

To recap a little… I’ve been on what is pretty much a liquid diet for the last 6 weeks and to be quite honest it’s getting a little ’stale’… actually it’s been *very* boring!! Just to compund the misery, whilst I’ve been drinking watery soups and thinned yoghurts etc, the rest of the family has discovered the delights and rewards of cooking their own meals and have made themselves some excellant meals.

Naturally, since our living area is one large room, the aromas from food they’ve produced has wafted over to me and at times made me quite ravenous! Can’t complain of course, they need to eat.

Last nights meal was no exception to their new found expertise, and a dish of steamed marinated salmon with fried rice was on the menu. Because this week I should be beginning the ‘puree’ stage of the new diet – and because I have virtually no resistance to temptation with regards food – I felt it was safe to try a ‘well chewed’ teaspoon of the salmon. Just for good measure and for no good sustainable reason, I also added a few tablespoons of the fried rice mixture to my soup – telling myself it was just to add a little bulk. All went well and I had no problems… except for a pleasant feeling of satiety.

Then we went to bed. Well actually *the wife* went to bed and I tidied up a little before leaving. While meandering through the kitchen I noticed they’d left out some of the rice dish so thought I’d quietly scoff a couple of tablespoons before going upstairs. Bad idea.

Within seconds I was getting really *intense* burning pains in my chest giving me a clue perhaps how a heart attack feels. The attack was probably brought on by the peristalic waves in my oesophagus trying to force the food into the tiny space my stomach occupies… and failing.

I spat out the remainder of the food in my mouth and desperately fought the waves of nausea washing over me trying not to be sick knowing what the potential results of *that* exercise might be!

For 10 minutes or so I struggled and strained against the sheer agony whilst I formulated some sort of excuse strategy in case the wife came to find where I was. Luckily she didn’t notice I was delayed so once I’d recovered sufficiently I controlled the external symptoms of my stupidity and slowly climbed the stairs a sadder but wiser individual!

However, over the next few hours as I lay in bed with my stomach twisted and coiling inside me, I reflected on just how effective aversion therapy can be. I can assure you it will be a *long* time before I do something like that again!!

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