Liveblogging my destruction

This is a total Narrator/ Tyler Durden showdown in my head right now.

Source: theantiroom.com

I have been feeling horrible lately, so I am severely restricting what I eat. I counted, and just realized all I have had today is tea, two gluten-free chicken tenders, and some terrible rice noodles.

I. Am. So. Hungry.

Meanwhile, my body is primal-scream yelling "MEAT!", and the angel on my shoulder is trying to temper its bloodlust: "Well, you have a can of lentil soup in the pantry...maybe that would...kind of...be like... oh, whatever, eat a fucking burger."

So that's where I am right now. And, right now, odds are 60/40 on the burger.

I know! Could it possibly get any more exciting? Stay tuned.
_________

OK, I had a burger. And five tiny beignets. I HAVE NO SHAME.

I went to this tiny bistro down the street, and had rousing conversations with all of the staff, and I danced outta there with burger-shaped hearts and stars over my head.

Kale just doesn't treat me this good.

You cocky bastard.

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

Eating Actual Food: Take Fifteen

As of roughly 1pm today, I'm back on the "eating better" wagon. (I'm writing it publicly so it might become true.) Girl cannot live on Swedish Fish alone.

Plus, if I can get off all my toxic meds, maybe I'll only get "cancer of the torso" instead of "cancer of the everything." A girl can dream!

Plus, the more kale I eat, the more I weaken Terrence's life force. It's true.

If you believe in fairies, clap your hands! (It distracts Terrence from his Xbox.)

Really, I think we can agree this is a win-win-win situation.

So far, "3/4 of a day" down! Only "a lifetime" to go.

.....

Ugh, fuck. Where's a "depression cake" when you need it.

Fare Thee Well, McNuggets. We Hardly Knew Thee.

About a year ago, I was seeing an acupuncturist. He kept giving me vague dietary advice, then got frustrated when I utterly and completely failed to follow it.

"You have to eat anyway!" I remember him sighing. "Why not make better choices?"

I wiped the buttercream off my face and gaped at him. Where do you even start?

What "making better choices" actually means is "change everything you know." It means "don't drink with your friends," "get to bed by 10 so you can wake up to cook before work," "politely decline pizza when you're out at 2am (oops to that 10pm bedtime.)" It also means "make food an issue."

Anyone with a specialized diet knows this: you can't hide food. It's very public and very intimate all at once, and it becomes a topic of conversation whether or not you want it to.

• If you say you're a Vegan, people nod indulgently but think, "No, I don't want to give $10 to Greenpeace." 

• If you're gluten-free, people wonder what you have and silently hope they don't get it. 

• If you decline enough drinks, your date might ask you if you're a recovering alcoholic. (No, I'm not, but I wasn't going to make out with you anyway, no matter how drunk you got me. Michael.) 

So what do you do when you don't want food to be an issue? When you just want to hang with the normalos? When you want to buy a bunch of Sour Patch Kids and shove them at your face with wild-eyed abandon?

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.

Pissed Off and Eating Kale

I'm Caitlin. I'm 25, I'm an Aquarius, and iced lattes are my drug of choice. No more iced lattes for me, though. It's all "healthy choices" from here on out, and I am profoundly bummed.

This sums up my thoughts on oatmeal.

I have had Crohn's disease for fifteen years. I've had two surgeries, been on liquid diets, been on steroids off and on for years, and have been on (and am currently on) all manner of toxic, injectable drugs.

The latter are most troubling to me. Thanks to these little buddies, I'm going to get cancer of the everything and it will be rad. Is it better to burn out or fade away?? Looks like I'm gonna burn out! Rock and roll, muthafuckas.

Conventional Medicine and I have really not been getting along lately.

A few months ago I sat down Conventional Medicine and told it that, even though I love it, I'm not in love with it. Conventional Medicine begged, pleaded, cried, then accused me of cheating on it with kale. And, well, valid point, kale and I did have a few one-night stands, but they never lasted. It's still no excuse for calling me "a conniving, two-timing hobag," or for throwing that toaster at my head.

Conventional Medicine gets mean when it drinks.

Anyway, I'm dusting myself off and trying to envision a drug-free life. (Oh, I'm also listening to "Since U Been Gone" on repeat. Do you hear me, Conventional Meds??) This blog is a chronicle of my wild stabs at "self-healing," kicking, screaming, and glowering at my plate of vegetables. Join me, won't you?

Love,
Caitlin