I had two small hard-boiled eggs and a cup of coffee for breakfast.

I ran 3 miles in the cemetery for lunch.

Now, in mid-afternoon, the hunger I suppressed is vanishing of itself.

Sometimes, in past summertimes, Ive discovered the clock ticking nigh to 10 PM before I've even pondered sampling a first morsel of nourishment.  At such times, I've found that

Life, for eternal us, is now; and now is much too busy being a little more than everything to seem anything, catastrophic included.

  -e.e. cummings 

Too busy, it would seem, to even consider eating.  Ha.

I've simulated asceticism for a day, and sometimes days, and sometimes weeks, and sometimes months, and sometimes years in my life.

Yet, I remain forewarned of reifying such into some fashionable sort of virtue by Katie's ever-present signature in her emails:

The Monk shaved his head as a symbol of renunciation, But now he goes nowhere without his little cap.

Nope. Ascetism, like love, should be its own reward.  And if it isn't, avoid the shears.