Tuesday, October 8, 2013

the diet lifestyle

not my dog
I've been thinking a lot lately about the words "diet" and "lifestyle." If I haven't made it clear enough, I'll say it again: I'm opposed to dieting. It just doesn't work for me. Being on a diet implies at some point, I will no longer be on a diet. And, with all the health bad news coming at me at mach 10, god damn it, Maverick (except when it goes to 11), I can't afford to think like that. This is what I do now and I hope to have the willpower to keep doing it.

First, I can't think about my deadline, which is November 14 when I get my blood checked again. November 14. Five and a half weeks away. Thirty-eight days away. Potentially 114 meals away with 76 snacks (I'm not proud). Because I will make myself crazy. And, I will think it all ends after the 14th when I get my blood checked again, but it doesn't. I will always be susceptible to high blood pressure, high cholesterol, heart attack, and stroke. It's just in my genetics. And the best way to fight that is to stop being a fatty. And, the only way to stop being a fatty is to watch what I eat. And by watching what I eat, I mean, I shouldn't eat meat or animal products and no more processed sugar.

When I look at it that way, I want to jump off a cliff.

Instead, I think about it this way: I choose not to eat meat and animal products because I feel better....ugh. I can't even finish that sentence. Let's just say, this is my choice and this is who I am now. (I absolutely love typing "vegan" into Youtube and seeing an ad for python sausage.)

old photo, same technique
I'm writing all this down right now because I fell off the wagon hard this past weekend. Actually, I leapt with glee (click that link because the threat about buying a kittycat is outstanding) off the wagon this weekend with a rack of ribs under one arm and a bag of Ring Dings under the other. I shared an entire bowl of sour cream onion dip and half a bag of Lay's potato chips with a friend who shall remain nameless in the interest of protecting the not-so-innocent. I ate processed port wine cheese with Wheat Thins. I had pizza and lasagna and garlic bread and a sloppy egg sandwich and a bloody mary and just a tiny bit of salad. For exercise, I wedged myself in the middle of a canoe while other people paddled. Sunday night, I felt like crap but it was worth every moment. And I got to hang out with two of the sweetest dogs on the planet.

Monday, I was back on track with fat-free yogurt, honey, granola, and banana for breakfast; an apple for a snack; and lentil soup for lunch. Work got in the way of exercise--I kid you not, I haven't stepped away from this computer since 7:30 yesterday morning. Of course, I could take this time now to exercise, but I prefer to process my thoughts about all the processed foods racing through my veins. And I do mean racing. My heart is still pounding.

first night
reheat night
Last night, I was planning to have some leftover Mayo Clinic wheat barley risotto that I made the other night with some fried tofu, but Groom was coming home for dinner (yay!) and he hates tofu (boo!). Let me go back to the wheat barley risotto. If you make it yourself, I'll warn you. The fresh thyme can be overpowering, so I'd ease back on the throttle unless you love thyme, which I do not. And, first night, it's a little bland. Last night, I added some Pomi tomatoes, more basil, and a little bit of vegetable stock to freshen it up a bit while reheating it in the pan. But what it really needs is some salt and some cheese. Mmmm....cheese.

Groom came home with a pile of vegetables from Blackie's in Auburn and went to town on some haddock he picked up at Gilmore's in Bath. We added some roasted string beans and we were in business. No butter, minimal olive oil, fat-free/low sodium chicken broth, and plenty of vegetables. But, I do have to admit, I tossed some sea salt on the green beans before roasting them. I have no regrets.

Today, I'm hoping to take a nice long walk if I can fit it in. Tomorrow, I head to the spine people for a cortisone shot to be injected into my spine. I don't want to think about it. But, I'm hopeful it will lessen some of the ruptured disc pain. I tend to forget to be careful but my body does a nice job of reminding me, like this weekend when I saw the garage door closing and instinctively caught the weight of it with my left hand. My body sent me more than just a warning shot across the bow and it sent me into a fit of hysterical laughter. Now the pain (the pain!) is showing up in the form of ocular migraines and the sensation that someone is literally, and I mean literally, crushing the bones in my left hand (my hand!). I still can't figure out what happens with a ruptured disc. Does it heal? Ever? Or is this what I do now? I eat mostly vegetables and I sit quietly while k-k-k-k-k-ken c-c-c-comes to k-k-k-kill my hand with a steamroller?


  1. Great Blog Post. (I didn't read all of it.) So, I was thinking today, why is "Bat Shit" the new standard of "crazy?"

    I searched on the internet and had no luck, so I figured I'd come to this blog and post my query to get more views and insights.

    Do you think it has to do with rabies?

    1. I always thought it was another way of saying "She's got bats in her belfry," sort of like "fucked up" strikes me as merely an obscene derivative of farkakte. But maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe bat guano makes you crazy.

      Whatever the answer, if you are bitten by a bat, please try to stay out of the sun.

  2. Phew! I almost didn't get past the swirlies. (I'm kind of insecure about my possibly being a robot.)

    It's enough to make someone dog shit crazy. See? Not the same.

    1. The swirlies? Did someone hold your head upside down in a toilet? Were you afraid you might rust?