Life At Slow-Mo

In the years I have been coming to this place, my fare has been relatively the same. One coffee with one food. That would be the very definition of breakfast for most of my days. It doesn’t matter if they’re satisfying or not. Just one black coffee and a sandwich, thank you very much.

And then somehow I began to long for that filled belly feeling. That moment when my brain is receiveing leptin molecules from my fat cells that say, “That’s enough for now.”

Hormones don’t lie. But they will if you don’t listen to them. Like when you say, “I can’t be full now. I haven’t even tried that grilled salmon on the buffet. Let’s make room this once, okay?” And as good soldiers would, they’d stand to attention and say, “Sir, yes, Sir!”

Or when you told them, “That tiny piece of cheese should do for the next 10 hours, capisce?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!”

When the 10 hour period was up, they send this command to the brain.

“Drop everything and chaaaaaaaaarge!”

“Sir, yes, Sir!”

Before you know it, you cleaned up one whole large pan of pizza.

This morning I had one flatbread with my coffee. And my ghrelin said, “Sir, can I please have some more?”

So I ordered a peanut butter sandwich. At the last bite, my leptin whispered, “Thank you, I’m okay now.”

That was the most satisfying breakfast I’ve had in months.