Tuesday 8th January 2013by Chelsea
I’m the first to declare that other people’s diets are boring. Hell, my own diet is boring, so I’ll get this over with quick.
Don’t worry, I haven’t fallen off of the Body Acceptance wagon. No, our doctor has us both doing a three-week elimination diet (blood tests, inflammation markers, blah medical blah). No caffeine, sugar, dairy, soy, wheat, corn, oats, nuts, eggs, citrus, nor any oils but olive and coconut. So we used up or gave away all of the unqualified perishables, made a $200 trip to the co-op, and here we are.
We’re about seventy-two hours in, and it is so hard to find anything to eat! All we have are unfamiliar ingredients and rice-based confusion. I really want to just buy a few gallons of Naked juice and a bushel of avocados to live on until the twentieth. Don’t even get me started on how hard it is to find something to order at any of the various knit nights…
Also, I am being reminded, intimately, of the feminist-rage facet of my general anti-diet stance. Before this week, I would not have listed pizza as my favorite food, but it seems like a good third of my brain capacity is now taken up with daydreams of the Neapolitan pizza from Punch. That’s a lot of brain power that could be turned toward, you know, fighting the patriarchy or something. I can’t come up with anything better right now, because the Flavor-Up alert from Izzy’s Ice Cream just popped up in my Twitter feed.