My experiment with Topamax continues. I now live in a world where food is not a factor. For me, that’s a strange world indeed.
We go out to Roadhouse with friends, where I order the obligatory petite fillet. I dilly-dally with my salad. I eat about half the six-ounce steak. I manage two onion rings.
My behavior draws stares. “Your steak bad?” our friends ask.
“No,” I say … and I tell my Topamax tale.
This weekend, we’re in Atlanta. The trip includes visits to all my favorite restaurants, including a few great new places. At Jitlada, the spicy basil chicken lies on my plate, mostly untouched. At Java Jive, the peanut-butter and jelly french toast entices me to eat five bites. For lunch, I down a fifth of a plate of Japanese chicken.
Yesterday was Valentine’s day. Given a box of candy … I managed four pieces.
I am aware when I need food … but, no matter how long I go between meals, I simply do not get hungry. Food is simply not an issue.
Every meal, I look down at my plate and marvel: leftover food. How bizarre.
Want to read more? Here’s part five of six.