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

T-Rexes Among Us

Here’s the thing: I am not only a creature of civilization, I’m an asthmatic person. I will only live so long as I have stockpiled the proper inhalers. I’m effectively a cyborg. You know how in Jurassic Park, they bred those dinosaurs with the lysine deficiencies, so if they ever got off the island, they’d die? That’s me. I’m the dinosaur that’s going to die in the New World.

- John Hodgman, via The Onion AV Club

Sunday before bed, I ate two Pillsbury cookies. I got violently ill and woke the next day feeling like someone had taken a cheese grater to my stomach.

On Monday, I had chicken enchiladas. The rest of the evening was spent rending my garments and shaking my fist at an unfair God.

If John Hodgman is a Lysine-deficient T-rex, I'd put myself somewhere around this guy:

(I found this picture at work. 

A coworker walked by, looked at it, and went, 

"Oh, when I was in the Peace Corps, I ate one of those.")  

Before anyone gets too bummed out, consider, if you will, his adorable scrappiness. He's also stylin' in Day-Glo green!

This little dude will be okay. Unless, of course, Jeff eats him.

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.

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