I recently got a wake up call.
I am a late bloomer, as the phrase goes. Truthfully, it took me years longer than many people (but still less time than some) to find my path, and make a solid go of it. The end result was that I completed my degree and license in medical laboratory science more than a decade behind the traditional student. While this fact represents a myriad of regrets and celebrations that extend well beyond this post and into the realm of my (very competent) therapist, I am overall pleased to be where I am in life - if mildly disconcerted at the lack of professional and financial achievement my twenties produced (while also relishing the adventures that would have been missed had I been less awash in wanderlust).
All of this is neither here nor there in terms of the aforementioned development in my life, and yet defines the turn of events so soundly in an abstract sense that these qualifying details could not be omitted. Basically, my thirty-something body was not meant for the rigors of college life.
Caffeine, sleep deprivation, alcohol, stress, and glorious glorious junkfood were all well and good in nineteen-ninety-something-or-other, but have apparently done a number on my aging, potato-like body.
In fact, I don't think I was always potato-shaped.
Anyhow, adding to this is the fact that adjusting to my new grown up (and no less stressful) job has been more challenging than I imagined. To make an already overly wordy tale into a slightly less than maximum-length epic, I have apparently developed an elevated blood pressure.
After the initial panic and scramble to put my affairs in order in the event I die before the weekend (a fruitless scramble, I might add - plus I have to work this weekend so death will have to be rescheduled), I found myself pondering the benefits of maybe not eating garbage.
Hmmm....death...or nutrition...
Actually...the debate took longer than I'd like to admit, but at length arrived at the conclusion that dying NOW would be a terrible waste of all of my school years, as well as a tremendous heap of textbooks AND ultimately reduce the number of cuddleable hours my boyfriend provides me with. I would have to try not dying.
All joking aside, I'm mad. I'm mad at genetics, angry at the toxic food "options" that have become our new normal (as well as the pricing for less deadly alternatives) and FURIOUS at myself for blindly embracing the illusion of immortality that comes with youth and fades too quickly with age.
But here I am...36 with what could essentially become a sticky, fatty timebomb in my chest.
And so I vowed that excuses were at an end. I began shopping for better alternatives, and miraculously, I found myself embracing the foods I have loved my entire life (but had forsaken in lieu of convienience).
In just a few days, I feel...better. I feel like I'm taking control...I feel like I'm rediscovering flavor and texture...but I'm not so naive as to think I'm winning this battle...yet.
Make no mistake, shopping for something that will nourish the body without collateral damage is tough. The day I decided not to die, I went to the supermarket and spent over an hour wandering the aisles and looking (for the first time) at the insidious numbers that got me here - printed in small, unobtrusive subtlety on the back of the all-too-enticing labels that crowded the shelves. They were always there; sodium, cholesterol, glucose, sucrose, dextrose, and trans fats - laid out in innocuous seeming measurements that looked harmless. They were in everything, but existed without a point of reference. Black, tidy ink where screaming red warnings should have been. I read them, and I felt shame. I felt betrayal. I felt despair. I went outside to collect myself and had a good uglycry in my car. I returned to the front lines of my dietary future - determined that there was something other than an endless catch-22 of sodium, fats, and sugars if I just searched hard enough.
Just as I was about to give up, and silently resign myself to eating myself to death, this wonderful, wonderful woman snagged me, and said "Sir? You've been here a long time, but there's not much in your cart. Are you finding things ok?"
Before I knew what was happening, I found myself admitting the treason my body was committing. She listened. I finished, and I expected her to hastily unload me to wander aimlessly in the diet aisle...again.
"I know what you mean," she said, "I went through this last year. Don't give up. You can do this. You just have to stop looking for food in boxes. You have to forget convenience food exists. Let me show you some things."
And that lovely lady got permission from her boss to take me through the store, and show me where to find some treasures that were virtually untouched by processing. She told me how to cook them, and store them, and how she took control of her life and reduced her diastolic pressure significantly.
That woman gave me hope - but she also helped me to formulate what it was that was (and is) missing from every source I had searched - from supermarkets to cookbooks.
-I'm not diabetic but I could be.
-Trading fat for salt, or salt for fat is the sort of like trading queens in chess - it changes the game, but puts you no closer to winning.
-Simply relying on "Portion control" is a lie. Putting a terrible food in a tiny package only guarantees that we will eat it and immediately fall off the wagon because there is a massive gap between an arbitrary portion size and satisfaction. 100 calorie packs are lovely, but when you find yourself with your head shoved in the box, shredding packages with your teeth like an enraged wood chipper, the "portion" was more like bait.
-Telling someone with food and nutrition issues to just use willpower or "eat better" or "Exercise more" is as helpful as telling them to just be thin or healthy. Education is vital, and must be both meaningful and accessible. Nobody is going to read the entire science of metabolism before eating a brownie. The message to eat crap is pervasive and simple, yet the important messages we NEED to hear and understand are blocked by jargon, conflicting information, overly technical discourses that lack sensible instruction, and sleazy diet gurus that make a living watching us flounder in our unfortunate ignorance
From this series of revelations, I developed the mission statement for this project.
1. I will not, and can not do this alone. I will enlist my friends and colleagues. I will learn from others, and share what I learn with any of you who may be similarly struggling.
2. On this blog, we will post tips, tricks, techniques and recipes that we have found personally beneficial - because both food and information is better when shared.
3. All recipes here MUST meet the following requirements: Less than 6% of the daily allowance of sodium recommended for adults (1500 mg) for single dish or snack treats, Less than 25% of the daily allowance of sodium for meal equivalents, Low fat with a focus on good fats, present a rich enticing flavor, and provide enough in both portion size and hunger satisfying capability to be a worthwhile investment of resources for those who are on a limited diet and/or a modest income.
4. Product reviews that assist in this process will also be included, but are not to be considered endorsements or "plugs." Similarly, they will be versatile, and affordable.
I am overjoyed to have with me at the beginning of this journey two very good friends.
***Miss Kim is a mentor and guru of all things delicious (but healthy) as well as a great inspiration.
***Miss Emily is one of the most enthusiastic and adventurous people I've had the pleasure of meeting. She is a fellow foodie, and is quickly becoming the swiss army knife of recipe references.
Most importantly, friends, I have you all with me and behind me, and if you're reading this, sharing in an effort for us to all get healthy and better together.
I am blessed.
~ Brad(asaurus)
