Last Saturday, I had just posted about how well Chris’s reintegration into society was going when an reintegration glitch occurred.
If you read last Saturday’s post, you know we hiked up Mount Monadnock. Hiking up Mount Monadock made us hungry.
As Chris is now a normal human being in society who can eat a variety of foods, we decided to order hot wings from a local place specializing in “super wings and Mexican food”, a common food specialty pairing.
Chris ordered 24 hot wings. I ordered 12. Our order came with fries and (naturally) Mexican rice.
The vast quantity of food excited Chris.
In Cape Cod, after his first show, he ate 24 hot wings and, although he then wasn’t hungry again for the next 8 hours that day, he had felt alright.
We thought these 24 hot wings would be an innocent indulgence.
We neglected to account for the superness of the “super wings”. Apparently “super” meant “huge”. These were the biggest chicken wings I have ever seen. I enjoy food and I could only eat 6 of my 12. Non-dieting Chris, who thinks it’s a crime for a hot wing to go to waste, decided he better eat my remaining 6 along with his 24 … and some french fries.
I couldn’t believe he could eat that many, but then, he had dieted for 6 months and hiked up the mountain with me earlier so it sort of made sense.
Once he finished, he stood up, rubbed his belly, and said, “Wow, I thought I might have really overeaten for a minute there but I feel okay.”
Five minutes later, his stomach was visibly distended and he was groaning in pain. For the next four hours, he alternated between lying in bed not moving and well, doing what you do when your stomach is visibly distended and upset.
Eventually he fell asleep and was fine the next morning.
And that was the reintegration glitch.
Dieting bodybuilders who compete and then are no longer dieting, often have trouble with the desire to binge. I don’t feel like what Chris did was exactly binging though; he wasn’t eating everything in site. As a man of numbers (see all posts related to his spreadsheets for proof), I think he just got hung up on the 30 wing thing without examining details of the 30 wings; he’s eaten 30 wings before so, in his mind, he should have been okay eating 30 wings this time. His fatal flaw was neglecting the subjective information; namely, that these wings were huge, and his stomach wasn’t yet adept at handling 30 wings and some french fries after its six month imprisonment in the yogurt dungeon.
He will now know for the future. When a wing is labeled “super,” it means “super.”
The reintegration continues.