Tag and I have begun a month long detox. The 30 days are broken into 10 day segments, each with their own purpose, and thus their own dietary guidelines. However, for the entire 30 days some rules stand fast: No MSG, No High Fructose Corn Syrup, No Hydrogenated Oils. That’s all well and good. I can deal with all those. But there a few other policies in place for the long haul that are killing me. Those include: No Meat, No Dairy, No Sugars, No Alcohol. In short, the 4 staples of my diet. Oh shit!
The first 10 days are the “Elimination” cycle, designed to help break addictions to things like sugar and alcohol (also to caffeine, nicotine, and any over the counter medications). I knew going in that it would be challenging, and that addictions I didn’t even know I had would likely come up and bite me in the ass. Have to say… haven’t been wrong so far. However, I'm somewhat surprised by what I'm finding to be most difficult.
I was raised on fast food. My father worked odd hours and my mother was a busy career woman who didn’t have a lot of time or patience to cook for a finicky child. Burger King, on the other hand, promised that without trouble I could have it MY way, and thus we visited a lot. Partially due to laziness, and partially due to the time constraints of my overly-scheduled life, I have continued my less than stellar drive-thru diet. I know it’s not wise, but it's easy, (and oh the price we pay for “convenience.”)
However, I didn’t grasp that my attachment to fast food went far beyond mindless routine and MSG-addiction, and had an emotional compontent until the other night. I had received a disturbing email, at the end of a long drama-filled work day, on top of Day 3 of a killer headache. Although stoicism is not really my nature, I held it together through class and the long drive home. However, fatigue won out, and I found myself in my kitchen, blurting out the whole onslaught of woes in snotty sobs. I collapsed into Tag's arms with this final note: “And I just want some meat…. And a COKE.”
Some people find ice cream and chocolate to be their comfort foods. Others salve their injuries with coffee and cigarettes. But apparently my "woobie" is Combo meal #2. A world of solace can be found sipping 32 oz of syrupy carbonated sweetness as the softly purring motor of the car sings a lullaby. It fills a lonely place in my heart that fresh daikon sprouts and beet juice just can’t touch. And silly as it sounds, without that blanket of numbness that chemicalized beef provides, I’m being forced to face feelings that I have been stuffing down for a very long time.
I’m sure that there will be more writing, more thinking, more purging before my 30 day hell is all said and done. But until then, remember this:
The world might be a safer place if I could just get some “biggie fries” STAT. *sigh*