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.

Greek Chorus

Y'all, right now the teenager in my head is winning so hard. And he sucks.

What a little shit.

When I gently remind him that we need to do things, like "shower" or "get on the train", he shrugs me off. Then I have to stand between him and the TV, unplugging his Xbox and throwing his clothes in his lap, panicked at how late we are. He hates that. He calls me unprintable names and then I have to wrestle him to the ground and put him in the goddamn shower, because, so help me god, one of us needs to go to work.

The thing about Terrence (his name is Terrence) is that he's very persuasive. And Terrance is wearing me down.

Today I started off full of great intentions. I made some hippie tea and did some yoga! Today was gonna be an adult day starring adult impulse control!

Then good ol' Terrance stomped in, and demanded a coffee and a latte and a bunch of candy and some leftover Indian food, and, well, I caved. I'm just too tired to fight him.

Now Terrance is back in front of his Xbox, slack jawed, and I'm canceling plans to stay in and nurse my sick stomach.

Don't you "shush" me, Terrence. You're the worst.

Identifying with Your Captor: Stockholm Syndrome and You

Dudes, this week I have felt wretched. Which means that I've been at the mercy of some intense, pathological sugar cravings.

A craving will descend, and I will go glassy eyed. I'll be spotted by security cameras in the candy aisle at a CVS, then will wake up three hours later in South Jersey with my bra in my back pocket and a passport belonging to someone named Mychylle. And where did all this blood come from? Oh my god, there's so much blood.

Have you ever had Mike and Ikes? They're terrible!

Source: reason.com

Like poison frogs in the rainforest, these bright colors send the signal, "Eat me, and I will fuck your shit up." But, when sick, my stupid bird-brain wants nothing but Amazonian frogs. I ate an entire package of these things at work yesterday, pausing between bites to go, "Ugh, these are awful."

Come on, Bird Brain, you and "intestines" need to have a talk. Whose team are you on?

On the plus side, I've got a pretty good working knowledge of New Jersey Transit these days.

Getting Good at Public Embarrassment

I've got this black-and-white striped tunic, which I love. As I pulled it out of my closet this morning, I thought, "Oh yeah. Last time I wore this, I had to wash it because I sobbed all over it on the subway home." I finished getting dressed and went to a doctor's appointment.

After the appointment, overwhelmed and oversaturated, I sobbed on the M train home. Again! It was eerily identical to the last time I cried all over this shirt: I'm wearing almost exactly the same outfit; I was waiting at exactly the same subway stop; I covered my stupid eyes with the same stupid sunglasses. (Don't worry, guys! The shirt is fine.)

There is a distinct Jekyll and Hyde element to this experience. As I type this, it is at least three hours later. I am on my friend's couch in his beautiful Greenpoint apartment. We're listening to Beck and my toes are cold, and I am housecat-content.

Three hours ago, I was snotting all over my pillowcase at home.

I don't know how to integrate the two extremes, my misery this morning vs. my okayness now. It feels like there is no solution to the frustration; only pleasant distraction. Perhaps I fear once I am alone again and everything is quiet, it will come back. Perhaps the fear isn't "fear" at all, but rather "certainty."

And, I dunno. I guess as far as distractions go, this is as pleasant as it gets.

Elimination Diet

Okay, so in my first post, when I said "It's all healthy choices from here on out!" I meant... tomorrow. Ish. You can pry my food addictions from my cold, dead hands.


Since about July, I've been trying (-failing-trying-failing) to do an Elimination Diet. The gist of it is, you don't eat anything delicious allergenic for awhile to give your body time to heal. Then you add things back in, little by little, to test your reactions. How logical! How scientific!

The diet, as proposed by my ND, was: No eggs, dairy, beef, soy, gluten, sugar, caffeine, nightshades, peanuts, shellfish, earth, fire, wind, water, heart.

Go, Planet!

...I'm sorry. I got distracted.

It only makes sense that food will have an affect on my body, and this seems like the clearest way to tell. So why is it so hellish?

Besides the soul-crushingly obvious, there is an extra residue of "awful." If you google "Elimination diet," you will find a variety of conflicting information. 

"Eat yogurt!!"

"Don't eat yogurt, you slovenly bitch!"

"All of the yogurt is tainted with Scientology!"

...Etc.

The flood of food neurosis, plus my own pre-existing neurosis, makes me want to give up and dive into a pile of pudding. (Mmm, tapioca.)

So far, two weeks is the longest I have gone on this diet. When I stick to it, I feel great; when I fall, I fall hard. I keep beating my head over it, but I have yet to really pull it off.

At any rate, I'm starting this up again tomorrow. Ish. Updates forthcoming!

More information on Elimination Diets:

• Generic Overview via Web MD
• This one is the closest to what I'm on, and this blog has recipes, which is great. Ignore the glassy-eyed hippie vibe and you'll do fine. Whole Life Nutrition
• As mentioned above, Google it at your own risk. It will make you crazy.