Tag Archives: nutrition

Logic

We ordered a sampler platter from the local Persian restaurant because we were told the hen is delicious. Eric opens up the platter….

Eric: “Where’s the hen?!”

Me: “What do you mean? It’s right there.”

Eric: “That’s chicken, not hen.”

Me: “Hen is chicken.”

Eric: “No it’s not.”

Me: “Yes. It is. A hen is a female chicken.”

Eric: “What? No. That’s like saying a bird is a pigeon.”

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I’m Sorry, Kids

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I am embarrassed to admit that I went against everything I believe in as a chocolate-lover and general knower-of-juvenile-things and purchased the cheapest bag of Halloween candy I could find for our trick-or-treaters. I’m sorry, Society, but $16 for the Hershey favorites variety pack that only included 40 pieces seemed insane (and Whoopers in the pack?! No. NOT a favorite and they should be ashamed to have included them. And don’t even get me started on the Almond Joy. In my childhood I could have fed an entire army on the pile of discarded Almond Joys I threw into the bottom corner of my closet. (“But Emily, if you hated them, why did you keep them in your closet?” Um, because when November 15th rolled around and I had polished off my top-ranked goods by including at least 7 pieces of candy in every meal for 2 weeks straight, I’d then enter the “Desperate Times” phase of sugar withdrawal and creep over to the reject stash in the middle of the night, while the rest of the house slumbered. I never claimed to be sane.)).

So, yeah. I went for the $5.00 generic brand, hoping that kids just won’t know the difference.

Because kids don’t notice when a peanut butter “cup” or a chocolate “bar” looks like it was driven over by a car and then stomped on by an angry little elf, right? And parents don’t mind when the wrapper is slightly torn and insides exposed, as if a mouse had already visited this piece of lesser-chocolate, and even the mouse was like, “eh, no thanks…”?*

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Just add it to your “Desperate Times” stash, kids. You’ll thank me later. Like at 3:30am on November 16th.

 

*Still (slightly) better than Eric’s idea to hand out ziplock bags of homemade beef jerky.

Something’s in there all right

I’m in the elevator and an elderly lady walks in…

Lady (after staring at me for 10 seconds): “Are you pregnant?”
Me: “No. I am not. And honestly, this is the second time this has happened to me in an elevator and I don’t understand why.”
Lady: “It’s the way you’re holding your stomach. Makes it seem like something’s in there.”
Me: “Yeah, there is. Dairy. I’m Jewish.”
Lady: “Ah. Enough said.”

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Kids These Days

I hand my tutoring kid a small Halloween treat…

Kid: “Oh, thank you so much! But my mother does not allow me to have candy. Should I return it to you so that another child can enjoy it, or would you like me to donate it to the nearest shelter?”

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I find this 20 times more disturbing than if she had snatched it out of my hand and shoved it down her pie-hole without a thank you.

We Fucking Love Cobb Salads

The text below refers to the following voicemail (to listen, hit play on the black audio bar) I left for my brother Jeremy on his birthday. I think it is a pitch-perfect, stunning example of why I don’t– and never should– make voice calls.

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Hi Again! Here’s Where I’ve Been.

I’ve gotten many comments about my lack of posting lately. Most of you think it’s because I’m too happy and in love to bother writing anymore. HAH! No.

Yes, I love Eric dearly and yes we are very happy together, but that would never be the reason I stop posting. If I’m writing less, that is usually a bad sign. I write more when my energy is good. I make myself write when my energy is bad, too, because it is definitely therapeutic. But you’ll certainly see more frequent posting when my spirits are up.

SO STOP BLAMING ERIC.

Jk, you can blame him a little, at least for the blog’s decrease in entertainment value. My pre-Eric dating life was more amusing. For you guys, at least. Living it was bona fide hell.

Anyway, back to the point. Here’s where I’ve been:

I have felt like absolute dog shit for the past 5 weeks. No, not depression (wahoo!), but feeling this awful for this long was starting to make me FEEL depressed, which is when I knew I had to make a change. I was blaming the new Paleo diet (for those of you not familiar, Paleo is essentially a whole-foods diet…nothing processed, no added sugar, no dairy, no grains, no legumes). I had started feeling this way about 6 days into the diet (after an initial first week of feeling fabulous), so I was certain that my body was just transitioning from carb-burning to fat-burning for energy, and it was taking a little longer than normal because I’ve been feeding it approximately 16 gallons of sugar-coated garbage per day for the past 34 years and now it’s like WHAT THE FUCK DO I RUN ON NOW!?!? CHRIST.

So I was just giving it some time.

But weeks passed, and I still felt incredibly weak and depleted. I essentially felt as if I possessed no muscle whatsoever. My arms and legs were extremely heavy, and when I walked, I felt like I was going to teeter over. It hurt to hold things in my hands (even my phone. I HAD TO PUT DOWN MY PHONE, GUYS). I was so irritable I wanted to punch everything in sight, which is less than ideal when you work with children.

But I really didn’t want to give up the Paleo diet, because the switch to this lifestyle had instantly cured my two biggest life-long ailments– headaches and stomachaches. So I kept riding it out, certain my strength would return, as well as my ability to not be a fang-toothed fire monster.

It didn’t. I started crying every day because I couldn’t run anymore. I could barely make it up the stairs to my classroom at school. I couldn’t carry a grocery bag.  Social events made me anxious because I didn’t know how I’d feel. I pushed myself to go to a friend’s outdoor-concert birthday party, only to end up crying hysterically to her when I didn’t have enough energy to stay on my feet.

Nobody likes the girl who cries to the birthday girl. I know that’s not even a thing, but I made it a thing, and I think everyone involved can agree it was not a good thing.

So I had a ton of blood work done. Checked all my vitamin levels, thyroid, cholesterol, blood pressure. Everything came back fine. I started to think I was going insane (you know…again).

I googled everything I could find on issues with pervasive weakness. About 3 hours into my google search, as Eric tried to gently pry the computer out of my hands and suggest I do something productive, like stand up or blink, I came across a testimonial from a girl who had very similar issues. They were related to her birth control. Specifically, she started noticing herself fall apart as soon as her pharmacy switched her over to the generic form of her pill.

This had recently happened to me. About 7 weeks prior, my mail-order pharmacy had sent me a 3-pack of the generic form (Levonorgestrel and Ethinyl Estradiol) of my regular birth control (Aviane). I wasn’t thrilled about the switch without notice or approval, but I naively trusted it’d be the same thing, and I’d be fine. Well, you know how the saying goes– “naiveté killed the cat.” (Yeah, I know, it’s “curiosity.” But that doesn’t fit this context and there’s no good quote about naiveté so BACK OFF.)

I immediately googled “Levonorgestrel and Ethinyl Estradiol.” The reviews and patient testimonials were insane. Basically, women switched to this pill and turned into Medusa. One girl swore it caused her divorce, because she became a completely irrational and emotional lunatic. Another used to be a marathon runner and then found she could barely walk (um, hello?!). Another gained 15 pounds in 3 weeks despite going to the gym every day and being in the most active, healthy phase of her life. Another stopped having sex with her husband because the sight of him disgusted her (that sounded more like a life problem than a medication problem, but godspeed to that couple.) Overall, the pill had a user rating of 1 star (for comparison, the name-brand pill I’d been taking had a rating of 4 stars).

“Holy shit. I’ve been poisoning myself,” I thought as I scrolled through testimonials that easily could have been written by me. I had basically been waking up every morning and swallowing a tiny little dragon pill that turned my insides to mush, my pupils red, and my breath to Game-of-Thrones-worthy fire darts.

I stopped taking the pill immediately. Didn’t even ride out the pack like they say you’re supposed to. Just stopped mid-pack and threw the rest in the garbage.

I quit it last Sunday. By Thursday, I was myself again. My body no longer feels heavy. I’ve been running every day. I have my strength back (not 100%, as I haven’t worked out in 5 weeks, but it is infinitely better). I can walk up stairs and not lose my breath. I can laugh again. I don’t hate everything.

Needless to say, Eric is relieved.

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So the point here is four-fold:

  1. Know what’s going into your body.
  2. Know that generic drugs are NOT the exact same as the brand-name. By law they do not have to be. They can be stuffed with fillers and binders that might be EXTREMELY harmful to your body, particularly if you are someone who is hormonally sensitive, as I am.
  3. Pay attention to how your medication affects your mood and energy. If it’s not good then
  4. Go off of it before you murder your significant other.

Number 4 is very important. Because if you murder your significant other, it should be because that’s just who you are as a person, not because a pill made you do it.

You’re welcome.

I’m glad to be back!

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