Social Climbing for the Literally Hungry

Y'all.

In my long* and dedicated** road to health, I have an embarrassing admission. I've been here. Twice.

Source: Ecochick.com

It may as well be called "Organic Bitch!" or something equally Kardashian. Not because bitches shop there--because women shop there on whom the marketing tactic "...just put the word 'bitch' in it, slut-ho!" totally works.

When I go in, and I'm not Caitlin the scrappy ex-Anthro major. I'm Stefffanie, and I pay someone wax my fingers, and I spend unprintable amounts of money on liquid kale. (Just bein' a bitch, y'all! Being downright cunty!)

More than anything, I hate that the tall, thin, and rich have cornered the market on health food. It makes my social-justice heart hurt. Plus, in the moment, it makes me feel like a troll.

But, at least in New York, if you want to eat pickily, you align with the Alphas. Because if you want to specify "no soy, gluten, or dairy, please," that makes you demanding. And if you're demanding and female, there's a word for you.

I guess I'm resigned to it. Though the minute I giggle at a Hedge Fund Manager's unfunny joke is the minute you should shoot to kill. 

*One day and a half
**which is being generous

Integrative Nutrition

My body is like the girl who was a raging bitch to me in high school, but now, through a Rom-Com conceit, she and I are forced to spend time together to learn to see eye-to-eye. And, just like in a Rom-Com, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Here are some things we know about each other.

I love sugar. Sugar is an affront to her very fiber.


Caffeine is one of my favorite things, ever. She acts like she and caffeine are cool, but after about an hour, she turns really moody and mean and I have to apologize for her later.

Sometimes I just want a goddamn enchilada. Sometimes she just wants to make me regret ever being born.

See? We're not working out.

This is part of what makes this whole "listen to your body" thing so hard: even when I'm treating her well, my body is still mercurial, power-trippy, and sulky.

At some point, we're going to have to drop the decades-long feud and learn to get along.

And maybe, just maybe, with a little warmth and understanding, we can even form a happy family. Like this little moppet:

Oh no. Isn't she in jail again?

Ugh, I give up.