I once lived weeks out in the wild, first canoeing and portaging in The Boundary Waters & Quetico, then hiking in the mountains of Montana’s Rockies and Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

We ate 6 day old refrigerated cheese, more Bulk Processed American Cheese than anything you could even buy in the store, everything in blue bear barrels stuffed with base raw ingredients that would last the half-dozen lot of us for days. We would go until broke every day, once 46 miles of canoeing and portaging in one day, once hiking up a 50–70° incline of smooth rocks that had stream running through.

We had gorp and hardtack when we’d stopped to take a break

We ate like hell every evening, on special occasions had Calzone Nights and Pancake Days, where we’d layover on an island someplace.

The boys groups even fuckin said “Hut Hut Cram” and finish the bowl when they couldn’t save it til morning, that’s where I learned that laying on your left side always eases the pain a little bit.

This is a long way to say, it doesn’t matter how much you eat, long as you’re moving muscles and getting sleep.

Sitting is the worst to do, your body never had to learn how to do it outside

But dang man, when you’re hungry, eat!

I know someone with Diabetes & Celiac, who has toured Europe in a cello trio, been congratulated for his piano by Yo Yo Ma, who is an EMT training to be a firefighter. You know what he fucking does? He listens to his body and what it needs.

Our body learned to get through famine, to slow down our metabolization and process more muscle and build more fat.

It knows this innately, so when you mimic that; it flips epigenetic switches to *make* you get fat.