Sunday, 18 December 2011

One Of THOSE People

Kids, listen up.  Eat anything.  Everything.  For those under 12 - Whipped cream, Kool-Aid, your little brother's boogers, mud pies, red food colouring.  College kids - caffeine yo' selves up now, doughnuts, ramen, cheesecake, all the refined carbs you can handle.

Because you sure as hell can't do that s**t at my age.

I'm not (too) old.  I'm not (that) young.  But I have to watch what I eat.

Or else I'll die.  Yes, we all die, but it's the difference between a dying ok ... or dying horribly.  And did I mention I get really bad gas?  Whether it be death (the horrible kind) or farts - I do not want to deal.

Yeah... this year I became one of those people.  I was out shopping with some friends, and we ended up scavenging breakfast in a mall food court.  One came back with a Gloria Jeans flavoured latte and muffin, the other hit up Muffin Break for some jelly slice, and me... I got a soy Brekkie To Go Go smoothie from Boost Juice, complete with Vita Booster shot.  That was the moment I became No Fun Anymore.

A bad hormonal health scare and a tally of my relatives who suffer from Type II diabetes turned me.  Like being bitten my a werewolf but replace, "Wax more often, lock up when full moon" with "Limit caffeine, dear God no milk".

The change has brought on deep, deep feelings of shame.  It's like someone stole my mojo, my cajones.  I used to laugh at the lactose intolerant, the vegan, the raw foodists, the calorie counters.  I would eat what they would not.  I would consume with no limits.  I was the MechaGodzilla of food.

There's something about loving food - all food - that is still cavalier and adventurous.  There is a certain derring-do-rock-out-with-ya-balls-out vibe to being a Proper Foodie.  Whilst most of the earth's resources are plundered and nearly every celebrity lady garden/gentleman sausage ends up in a dodgy video, in the realm of food there are still places to explore and conquer.

Foodies will eat shirako, chicken feet, balut, and a host of other delights/horrors.  We will wait for the better part of a year to get reservations at those restaurants.  We love chefs who seem like they're going to explode any minute now.  Like a satay skewer to a charcoal flame, getting burned is all part of the fun.

So being careful about what you eat tends to draw boos and hisses from your fellow food whackos.  It lowers your cred, questions the state of your big swingin' brass ones and makes you look weak.  It's like you don't deserve that Momofoku reservation and your copy of Larousse should be confiscated, given to some savant 18 year old at William Angliss or CIA.

Or maybe I've just got hangups.

Anyway.  I've been consuming less wheat, less dairy and less caffeine.  I have been eating more vegetables.  Sure, I'll indulge in those cute baby potatoes roasted in duck fat at That Fancy Dining Establishment I Occasionally Visit... but I will not be having fries with my burger, thanks.

Dammit, I won't even be having the burger.

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