Me: On a Diet

The day before the diet:  No sugar, no dairy, no wheat, no problem! It's just 14 days, right?  I can do anything for 14 days.  That's it!  I'm totally going on this diet.  Tomorrow. First, I have to watch all the videos about the diet, post them on face book, buy 45 pounds of fresh produce, buy some cute new clothes in my future size and drink all the wine in the house.

Two weeks go by: 45 pounds of once fresh produce are emptied from the vegetable bin.

The day before the diet (take 2):  Oh. My. God. These can't be my fat pants.  And where are my feet?

Day 1:  This is the most boring diet ever. Water. And more water. And celery. Oh, hey, look, a thumb-size portion of salmon and 4 cups of raw cabbage!    

Day 2:  Dr. Oz is a raging psychopath.  Sure, he looks nice.  Ted Bundy looked nice. I haven't lost one bloody pound.  I hate this diet.  I hate Dr. Oz.

Day 3:  What I could do is, get tickets for the show, disguise myself as a harmless elderly person, and then when that psychotic bastard makes his entrance, I could leap onto the stage, smash him in the face with my purse, then run up the middle aisle and be out of the building before anyone has time to react.  That would show him.  Why hasn't someone already thought of this?

Day 4:  Or I could kidnap him, tie him up in my basement, and force feed him donuts and wonder bread for three months.  Then, when he's fat and hooked, I'll feed him nothing but water, celery, and the occasional 6 ounces of chicken. See how he likes it.

Day 5:  I could just eat him...

Day 6:  Remember when we could have wine?  Remember cheese and crackers? Oh oh oh, remember that chocolate fudge birthday cake that time? Good times.

Day 7:  If I were rich, I would buy my own liposuction machine. I'd suck all the fat out of my ass and inject some into my cheeks. Then I'd send the rest to Dr. Oz.  In a red wagon.

Day 8:  If I were rich and had my own liposuction machine, all of the housewives would want to be my friends, except maybe Lisa Vanderpump.  Her house probably has its own liposuction salon.

Day 9:  Lisa's liposuction salon probably employs mean, ridiculously attractive millennials who'll make up the cast of the next Bravo reality show, Vanderpump Hoes.

Day 10:  I mean Hose.

Day 11:  The next person in this house who asks me, "What's for dinner?", is going to get pistol-whipped with this bunch of celery.  They'll be like, "Hey, Mom, what's for dinner?", and I'll be like, "Oh, hey, meet my leetle friend! Smack. Smack. Smack."  That's what you get for being able to eat potatoes.

Day 12:  I could make a documentary about dieting.  I'll renovate a Winnebago and travel cross country interviewing people on diets.  The cinematography will be stunning; the narrative, life-changing.  I'll dedicate it to Dr. Oz.

Day 13:  In the movie version of me making a movie, Nicole Kidman can play me.  I'll hang out on the set. We'll eat broccoli and chia seeds together.

Day 14:  If I film part of my documentary in Hawaii, and I'm invited to a luau, I won't be able to eat anything but the pig.  I'll bet that's considered bad form."Oh, hey, Aloha, where's your pig?"

Day 15:  It's probably not that easy to get a Winnebago to Hawaii anyway, which is too bad because I LOST 10 POUNDS.  I would look stunning in a muumuu.  If Bruce Springsteen saw me in a muumuu, he'd probably write a song about it.  And sing it at the luau.  Then we'd sit in a corner by ourselves, eating all the pig.

Day 16:  Mmmmm Wine.

2 weeks later:  Whaaaaa?  Who inflated me????  And where are my feet?

You can have the fruit.  I'll take the pig.

  

Carbs Make Me Cry

Lately I've been reading up on nutrition  in an effort to find a solution to Teenager Who Lives in the Basement's (TWLITB) health issues.  If I haven't mentioned it before,  TWLITB has Crohn's and arthritis, two inflammatory health concerns that go hand in hand.  The solutions to date have been pharmaceutical. His doctors are trying to find  the right combination that will calm both issues. The arthritis is under control but the Crohn's continues to be a problem.  It seems reasonable to assume that if  the issue is intestinal, there may be a dietary answer, which is why I've been doing all the reading.  There. Now you are all caught up on the boring back story.  We're talking about yucky intestinal stuff.  Welcome to my blog.

One of the more interesting things I've come across is the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, based on the idea that certain carbs are easily digested by the body while others help flora take over our intestines.  Flora sounds like a field of wild flowers in Hawaii, I know, but apparently it is more like Las Vegas-a little is good; a lot is bad for your health.

In addition, I've read some chapters from  Grain Brain, which claims gluten is the root of all evil and will rot your brain.   Not exactly what my mother told me, but she's not a doctor.  Then I picked up Wheat Belly, which also feels gluten is an asshole, but is more insulted by the muffin top it encourages than the brain rot issue. Both of these books claim that a gluten free diet will relieve intestinal issues and get rid of our national debt.  I'm lying about that last part.  Unless you consider sky high medical costs.  If you consider that and apply it to the national debt, there is the implication that debt would be relieved at a national level. 

Finally, I've been reading about the dreaded Nightshades.  The Nightshades sound like evil shadows from a Sci-Fi romance but are, in fact, vegetables, herbs, shrubs and trees containing alkaloids, which can affect nerve/muscle and digestive functions.  Some of the more common nightshades are eggplant, peppers, potatoes, and tomatoes.  

Needless to say,  all of these books, compared to one another, contain similarities and contradictions.  They all seem factual, well researched and, when you read them, perfectly reasonable.  They all seem worth a try. None are really in line with the good news that whole grains should be a main component of our diet according to the USDA, but then again, who can really trust the USDA after all those years of 6-11 recommended servings of breads/grains a day?  Not me.  I still resent them.

Anyway, this is why carbs make me cry. Teenage boys love a crappy carb diet more than they love SpongeBob reruns and League of Legends.  TWLITB is no exception and the idea that he needs to eat burgers without buns doesn't sit well, so there's a battle on the horizon.  A battle that, once fought, may prove fruitless after all.

(Get it?  Fruitless?  Fruits have carbs y'all!  But I'm not getting rid of fruit, don't worry.  Regardless of what the acupuncturist recommended, there will be no scurvy in the Chicken household.  Where was I?  Oh, yes, I remember.  It may be all for nothing.)  

However, TWLITB deserves a lifestyle that doesn't include a painful limp and anxiety over bathroom proximity,  not to mention a decent night's sleep. If that entails more care in our food choices around here, then the chicken family will suck it up for TWLITB.  It would just be nice if there was one clear answer. Are any of you living with inflammatory issues? Do you eat a special diet?  

Chicken out