What I mean by lunchtime is in the middle of the day. Noonish or close to it. Not in the middle of the afternoon almost to dinner time or 3 O ‘clock in the morning. I’m just not that avant garde. If that’s when you want to eat lunch, then go for it. Don’t ask me to starve myself. There are plenty of other ways to socialize that don’t involve suffering.
What is so weird about eating when you’re hungry? What could simpler? I feel the best when I listen to my stomach and not a clock or 15 different people’s opinions of when, where and what to eat.
My doctor claims that I am pre-diabetic. What do I know, it’s only my body. My suspicion is that my blood sugar bounces all over the map. When I’m hungry it’s because my body is saying “feed me now!” What the heck is PRE anything, anyway? It sounds like another invention of worry warts of the world or WWOW. If I injure myself and need immediate treatment to stop bleeding am I pre-dead? Well we’re all pre-dead if you follow the morbid “from the minute you are born you are dying” philosophy.” I have to give credit to the medical community though. At least they are toying with the idea of treating a condition while you are still pre-dead instead of waiting until you are almost completely dead.
It took a year or two for the meal time vigilante mind-set to catch up with me, but it did. I ended up fat and sick. By my standards. I am in the healthy category of generic humans females of my height and build, but I don’t feel healthy.
This eat by the clock mumbo jumbo should be listed in the Geneva Convention as a form of torture, mental and physical. “Are you going to eat now? We’re going out to dinner in a couple of hours?” Well I’m hungry NOW. “But, it will ruin your appetite.” What a cruel invention. Don’t eat a healthy portion of what you want now. Wait until you are hungry enough to chew off your own foot. Then you’ll be more than happy to eat any slop put in front of you. The fact that you are with other people makes it all worth it. No, not really.
A good dining companion is a wonderful treasure. Some people just aren’t fun to eat with. They scarf their food down like a wolf, without a word. Then push their plate away and start grilling you with questions while you attempt to eat your food one bite at a time. Or they decide that now is the time to share the details of their colonoscopy. The worse possible scenario is the generic “let’s do dinner.” Everyone sits around in a the decision circle from hell. What do you want, well I dunno what do you want. Ok let’s eat Mexican. No I had that for lunch. Ok Italian. No I’m not in the mood. Ok, what DO you want for dinner. I don’t know. And round and round we go. Let’s just not, and say we did.
Attention shoppers. Melt down on Isle 3!
I hate grocery shopping. I would rather have a root canal. Seriously. Wandering around in a big freezing cold warehouse full of packaged junk. Staring at impulse items that I wouldn’t feed my to neighbor’s yappy dog. Seasonal shelves of cheap junk made in China. The only way I can even remotely handle it is to turn it into a social experiment and opportunity for research. Proof that “you are what you eat” is right there in those shopping baskets everyday.
I like to approach if from 2 different angles. First I look at the baskets while trying to not observe the person pushing said basket. What’s in there? Instant potatoes, chips, cookies, frozen juice, cup-o-noodles, instant coffee, candy, mushy white bread, peanut butter and jelly swirled up in a cutesy, one jar approach. Nary a vegetable or anything resembling protein. Ok, now take a look at the person pushing this cart. Usually well on their way to obesity if not already there. They are sporting splotchy, icky looking skin. If there is a kid in the cart I will bet you cash money that kid has a runny nose, is whining, and sucking on something sweet. Half of it is smeared in the kid’s hair.
Now look at from the person perspective first and look at a person similar to the one I just described. I gay-run-tee you will find a pile of carb-loaded, pre-packed pseudo food, completely devoid of nutrition, in their basket.
And on to the vegan peoples. Basket full of veggies, roughage, expensive food supplements, and all-natural juice (squeezed in some third world country and fertilized with God only knows what.) Maybe it’s just me, but they always look sort of skinny and nervous. Just this side of taking flight if you yelled “Boo!” I read all those books about how you can supposedly combine this and that to come up with the same protein you get from meat. I’m don’t buy it anymore. Sounds too much like Alchemy to me. In a caldron, stir together equal parts aluminum, eye of newt, and pencil shavings and you get…Gold. Yea, alright, now that’s what I’m talking about.
It just doesn’t work for me. The traditional grocery store is a creepy and confusing place. Every aisle has a collection of things to eat that totally contradicts the premise of the food in the next aisle over. The Atkins diet, South Beach, Asian – soy is the answer to everything, salt free, Gluten free, Sugar Free, fresh never frozen, frozen to preserve freshness, blessed by Rabis, untouched by human hands. The whole place starts spinning and I want to run out to the parking lot to throw myself across the hood of my car. ***shrug*** Maybe I need therapy.