Monday, 12/09

And here, people seem to think I eat well. Shows what they know.

Actually, I normally DO eat as well as I can. My diet usually consists of whole grains, fresh fruits & vegetables, lean protein, and nuts & (healthy) dark chocolate. That's usually what I eat, and that's why probably are of the opinion that try to eat well.

Because I usually do.

The past ten days, though, have been something else, starting with Thanksgiving and going through my birthday a few days later. Then there was this 48 hour span this past weekend--

Friday lunch—I grabbed a protein bar and some chocolate because I was running late after TV taping.

Friday dinner—I went running after work, and then didn't feel like making anything, so I ate a pint of Talenti Double Chocolate Gelato for dinner.

(No, I don't feel good about that. But it is what it is.)

Saturday breakfast—I break my cardinal rule and don't eat one, because...

Saturday lunch was all the food we bought from the Greek Orthodox Church bake sale, which for me this year consisted of Patitsio and six—count them, six—different Greek baked goods, including baklava (which does, in my defense, have walnuts in it)

Saturday “dinner”--a dozen or so cookies at the Peter White Public Library open house.

Sunday breakfast—I realized that I have a dark chocolate bar with blueberry & lavender filling I bought in Germany that's past its expiration date, so I start eating that.

Then around 11 or so Sunday morning, my stomach starts making noises. These aren't the usual, mellow rumblings that you hear from a stomach. Nope; these are like the wailing of a banshee on its way to hell for, oh, the third or fourth time. My stomach was making such weird & loud sounds that I thought it might start cracking the windows of our living room, which is where I was sitting.

THAT'S how loud my stomach was.

I mean: I can't blame my stomach. I kinda sorta had been abusing it for the past 48 hours, and I guess it just decided it was time to fight back. In all honesty, I'm surprised it hadn't started it sooner; say, after the ice cream for dinner Friday night. But apparently it had had enough, and decided it was time I knew.

Thankfully, I took the hint.

I drank a cup of tea (Blood Orange Smoothie from Spice Merchants, which is a roobois tea I highly recommend) and ate something I hadn't for quite a while—real food, like a slice of whole grain bread and a piece of fruit. I think my body thought at first I was joking, as it continued to grumble, but after a while the loudness started to quiet down, and that strange feeling I'd been having, literally in the pit of my stomach, started to go away. Then for dinner, when I had gnocchi and steamed broccoli and a glass of milk, my body must've remembered that I actually DO know how to eat well, and stopped fighting back.

If nothing else, I'm sure the windows in our apartment appreciated that.

So, now, I'm (hopefully) back on a normal diet, and everything's right in the world. However, if you're ever tempted to think that I eat well all the time, just remember the abuse I put my body through during that 48 hour span this weekend.

You'll probably never look at my dietary habits the same way again. I know I sure won't.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)