Day 22 / Fasting & Frat Hut Parties
From autophagy to ouzo
Today was supposed to be day one of a 48-hour fast.
Now before you roll your eyes or stage an intervention, allow me to backtrack slightly.
Fasting is one of life’s marmites. People love it or view it with a certain scepticism. An undiagnosed eating disorder. A new word for fad diet. Personally, I’m a big fan and could natter about it for hours.
Fasting
My own fasting journey started a couple of years ago now when I was in the depths of my last existential crisis (classic). What am I doing with my life? Why do I feel so out of sync with everything?
I realised that living in the concrete confines of London, all of the cycles and seasons of the natural world could pass me by with little more than a ‘cold outside today isn’t it’ or a spontaneous post work drink if the sun came out.
Queue a deep dive into seasonality, moon cycles and hormones. I started to get my head around not only what was happening around me, but also inside my own body.
And who knew (not me) that us girlies move through our own internal seasons every month? Week by week, we pass from the nesting urges of Winter to Spring’s oestrogen-fuelled good vibes to our Beyoncé Summers and finally come crashing back down through the PTSD lows of Autumn.
From here, I discovered Fast Like a Girl, a book that breaks down how fasting with your hormones supports your body in so many ways, from balancing blood sugar and reducing inflammation to boosting focus and a few inner body miracles such as cycling out excess estrogen and autophagy (a kind of spring clean for your cells).
I’ve been incorporating fasting into my monthly cycle ever since.
Red Cupping
So there I was, 20 hours into a 48-hour fast. I was feeling pretty good and decided to head down to the beach for a chilled afternoon of gentle swims and maybe a journal sesh or two.
Instead, I walked straight into a scene straight from a (very wholesome) episode of Bear Grylls Born Survivor.
Ian, my American beach friend, was busy scavenging all the driftwood bamboo that was washed up in a recent storm into a huge pile. Turns out he’s a man with a vision, namely, a shack for the beach.
His partner, Bridgid, was sunbathing offering support from the sidelines. They’ve come well prepared with a cooler full of ouzo, lemonade and ice (well beach hut building is thirsty work).
They offer me a drink and I’m about to launch into my fasting spiel when I stop myself. Mol, just take the drink girl. Life’s about connection, not time spent in autophagy.
I’m handed a red cup and just like that, we’ve got ourselves a hermit frat hut beach party.
Ian made great progress on hut construction while Bridgid and I made great headway on the bottle of ouzo and a series by series dissection of White Lotus. They’re season one fans. I’m a die hard dolce vita season two girl (that theme song come ooon). We’re all underwhelmed by season three and agree the girls trip carries it.
And let me tell you, I was feeling rather jolly after that post-fast Ouzo so I went to scavenge my own contribution (crisps and dip) for our impromptu party.
And what do you know, it’s suddenly apéritivo o’clock down on Paralia Kokina. Olives, crisps, hummus - a veritable charcuterie feast. Washed down with Ouzo and White Lotus chat.
Completely unplanned and completely lovely.
Sundowning
As the sun started to slip behind the hills, Ian remembers it’s the opening night at Harris Bar, the little windmill bar. Well, it would be rude not to we decide.
We part ways for showers and some emergency pasta inhalation (fasting gods, forgive me), then I jumped in Suze and made my way to Agia Maria to meet then for a sundowner.
The sky was just starting to sink into a deep red. The windmills glowing a peachy pink. Lights started to twinkle in the town below.
We sample the Harris Bar menu (a frozen apricot cocktail = revelation) and watch as the last of the sun disappears over Leros.
Later, I drove home with windows down, music on, warm air wafting through the car. My stomach is full of carbs and Ouzo while my heart is full of a lovely warm fuzzy feeling.
I set out to fast.
Instead, I feasted.
And honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing.