Why I admire Jesus, Gandhi, and many Catholics

Well, I admire Jesus especially for many other reasons, but the food. That's what gets me. How do they go without it? According to my extensive google research (accomplished in .21 seconds) most Catholics nowadays only fast on holy days like Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. But Gandhi, he fasted 17 times! And once he fasted for three weeks. And Jesus, 40 days. Seriously. 40 days without food is a very long time.
I found out a few weeks ago that I can last for about 60 hours. That's my limit. Why, you ask? Why did I ever test my limit? Well, I am victim to sudden whims of torture, and I thought this diet called THE MASTER CLEANSE sounded like a fun way to spend the last three days of spring break. Now I'm not sadistic enough to attempt a purging diet (read: lots of trips to the loo) while teaching, but I figured, 3 days--I could do that. And I would end right before I went back to school. Perfect. I was hoping to maybe drop some of the flab around my belt that JARED IS TOTALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR and maybe see a miraculous transformation in the spotty condition of my face. I want clear skin; is that so vain?
I won't nauseate you with the details, but this is what it was: steady diet of water liberally dosed with a cleansing potion of lemon juice, grade B maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. Oh, I almost forgot: I also drank an organic laxative tea at night and downed a 32 oz glass of warm salt water in the morning. Do you know what that much salt water does to your digestive system? You should try it some time. It's...interesting.
So, 2 1/2 days into my proposed 3 day fast, I was DYING. I made the mistake of taking Lauren shopping (and meeting up with the friend who had talked me into the whole thing--and who was doing the diet as well--we were hoping to morally support each other). And I had to go to the ladies' room 6 times in one hour. My stomach hurt and I felt dizzy. I was ready to be done.
And just like that, I was. We took the girls to Panera for lunch, and while Anne sipped away at her laxative tea, I resolutely bought a whole grain bagel and low fat strawberry smoothie. And guess what? My body, my mind, my whole spirit sighed.
And this is what I realized: fasting is all well and good for those who can stomach it, but I am a girl who needs food. I can't live without it. As I'm sitting here, I'm glancing at my bowl scraped clean of chocolate cake, sipping at a glass of red wine, and feeling desperately happy that I will never again have a glass of water with lemon, syrup, and pepper in my hand again.