Food Is A Love Story

Thanks for all the kindness regarding this post. Many of you engaged with me in conversation about it via twitter, facebook and email. The support and advice did not go unnoticed, I promise.

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And about that, it turns out my health issues aren’t psychosomatic. As I mentioned, I went to the doctor who made a lot of frowny faces at me and he sighed a lot and took a lot of blood out of me for tests and he shook his head a lot. The man was not thrilled. But, even less thrilling were my test results. 

I’m beyond nutrient deficient - iron, vitamin B and folate are almost non-existent in my body right now. It’s a sad state of affairs. And it explains why I am so damn exhausted all of the time.

But, what didn’t make sense to me is how I am lacking all of these nutrients. I eat a lot of iron and a lot of greens and despite my bad habits, I get a really a varied diet full of vegetables. And on top of that, when I had become feeling tired all.of.the.time, I started taking both an iron and vitamin B supplement. I’ve been taking both regularly for over six months now.

The doctor (who called me himself, Portland is the best) explained that he is 99 percent sure that I have a gluten sensitivity that is causing me to not absorb all my nutrients. Which is leading to malnutrition and exhaustion.

Now, I am the last person in the world who wants to run around crying celiac and start being high maintenance about bread. But, I decided to cut out all gluten just to see how I feel. It’s been all of a day and no difference yet.

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I guess the bigger news is the shock of hearing things like “malnurished” and “you could become severely ill” and “you need to take more responsibility for your health”. All is true and all was a tough pill to swallow.

So, with that, I decided that a complete overhaul was really seriously needed and I need to cut out more than gluten. Which is what has led me to rethink seriously about paleo. I’ve toyed with it for almost year. Starting. Stopping. Declaring it too hard with what I do for a living. But, when my doctor called and I stumbled on a paleo challenge at the gym around the corner from my house - I decided it was too serendipitous to jump in full force.

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Starting Monday, May 21st I’m embarking on a 30 day paleo challenge which means no gluten, no grains (even the gluten free ones), no dairy, no sugar, no alcohol (except tequila is oddly allowed), no soy and no legumes. It’s going to be an adventure for sure - especially since I can’t take a month off of work for this experiment. I will be documenting all 30 days here - including how I am eating at restaurants.

I sleep with my iPhone in my hand and my macbook charging on my nightstand next to me. The flickering apple emblem serves as some sort of nightlight and tends to wake me up at least once during the night. My bed is angled so I can see the television in my living room where I sleep to the lullabies on CNN. I set my alarm for 7 am every single morning, but manage to snooze in ten minute increments until 9. Upon waking, I check my phone immediately for urgent client emails, non-urgent client emails, stray text messages and I glance briefly at Twitter before jumping out of bed to take Dodger for a much needed walk. I give myself 20 minutes to get ready in the morning - to shower, to pack my lunch, to make breakfast, to feed Dodger, to feed Scrap. If I’m really maximizing my time, I have time to throw face lotion on my parched skin - that’s the extent of my makeup routine. I stop at Heart for a 16 oz coffee, park under the Morrison bridge and speed walk into the office.

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I look like a mess.

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My calendar is full in ways that are amazing and challenging and fun. Client meetings that make me think and brainstorming sessions and interviews that are fulfilling and wonderful and busy and all things that I have wanted in a career. There are business lunches and personal lunches and I forgot my lunch lunches. My evenings shift from hysterical happy hours with my lovely coworkers to restaurant openings to taking reporters to dinner to stopping by a clients restaurant to say and about once per week my gaze shifts from work to personal where I might go on a date or collapse at a friends house with a glass of bubbles and take out.

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I went to the doctor last week and stood in the sterile room on the sterile scale with my ass hanging out of that damn paper robe where the nurse recorded my weight and shook her head and sighed. My doctor came in and told me I was doing it all wrong and handed me a prescription in the form of a list.

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• Don’t sleep more than 8 hours per night.
• Don’t sleep with the television on.
• Don’t sleep with your iPhone in your hand.
• Don’t have more than 4 alcoholic beverages per week.
• Don’t drink Diet Coke.
• Don’t eat gluten. Or dairy. Or legumes. Or sugar. Or too much fat.
• Don’t drink so much coffee. Limit your intake to 16 oz. per day
• Don’t sleep through your workouts every morning.
• Don’t go to every single food event in Portland.

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I read the list twice and stared blankly at Facebook. And then bought some shoes that I can’t afford.

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I spent the weekend with the list in the back of my head and ignoring it gleefully. I guzzled bubbles. Indulged in dairy and gluten and sugar and legumes. I had more than four alcoholic beverages yesterday - let alone this week. This guy doesn’t understand my challenges or my schedule or my job or being 29 and single. I dismissed this list as mere suggestions and I vowed that I might take some of them into account on my own time.

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I got home from wine tasting and wine dinnering close to midnight. I took Dodger for a quick walk and avoided the meth addict that likes to try to make friends with me at once the sun goes down. I immediately noticed the sink full of dishes, the dead cat grass on my kitchen counter in a sad Terra Cotta pot and bananas that desperately needed to be chopped up and frozen before they started to rot. I remembered that I wanted to make lunch for the week and thought back to my list of don’ts - I scanned the fridge and began to make chicken stock after midnight. I methodically began doing dishes. And dumped the plant. And chastised myself for buying a plant because I know I can’t keep plants alive ever not even air plants and I even killed a cactus once. And then I chopped bananas and threw them in the freezer. I slumped on the couch while the stock simmered and watched The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Set an alarm to turn off the stove at 5:30 am and curled up on the couch and nodded off waking up every so often to poorly behaved reality stars shrieking at each other.

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I woke up at 9 am. Scrambled to finish my soup. Skipped my shower. Took Dodger for a walk. Fed the damn meowing cat. Slathered face lotion on my even drier skin. Skipped breakfast. Ran to my car to make sure I had time for coffee. I managed to get to the office in time for our staff meeting. I basked in the rooftop sunlight while we discussed client after client. I checked my iPhone for emails at least six times during the meeting. I kept reminding myself that was rude. I kept doing it anyway.

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I was grateful to have my soup for lunch. No dairy. No gluten. No legumes. No grains. No sugar. Low fat. My doctor and his list of don’t would be proud. I wrote some emails. I perused some photos on my phone taken yesterday. The one of me stood out. I look…exhausted and fat and my skin looks sallow. My critical eye noticed my upper arms looking particularly bulky and all six of my chins. More alarming than the extra padding was how old I looked holding that wine in the gorgeous Oregon wine country and how my eyes looked lifeless. I didn’t recognize myself.

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This isn’t one of those please feel sorry for me blog posts or please tell me that I’m not a giant wooly mammoth and I don’t need to lose an ounce blog posts or even a blog post looking for a response. This is a I know I need to change and I don’t know how type of blog post because I’m a Taurus and I’m stubborn and I like sleeping with my iPhone in my hand and my television on. I like that extra two hours of sleep and waking up at 7 to go to the gym seems unreasonable when I am out drinking (for work) until after midnight. This is convincing myself that I am ready to change because that girl in the photo isn’t doing well and isn’t taking care of herself and is really really fucking tired and it will get worse and not better if this continues and I guess this means that I need to refer to this don’t list.

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Remember when I initiated a major argument with a good friend over his love of the band Coldplay two weeks ago? Remember when I was just burning the candle at all ends and really, really fucking tired?

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Do you take time to sleep in? Take a personal day? Buy a lot of shoes? Manifest sunshine? Drink things that are green? Fast? Run? Work more? Work less? Retweet? Read motivational articles? Give blood? Craft? Jump higher? Join a new gym? Do that meditation exercise that usually makes you laugh because it’s so goddamn ridiculous? Do you prescribe to slowing down? To speeding up? Do you just vow to follow your own list of do’s or don’ts? Do you just tell yourself to close your eyes and hold your breath and stop fucking it up?

What do you do when you feel like you are doing everything for everyone else but letting yourself down?

Today is my birthday. So far, 29 is looking…good.

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It’s always weird to celebrate without family - but it’s lovely to celebrate with good friends that feel like family. This weekend was filled with lots of food and drink. And lots of moments that I don’t wish to blog. But, at its core, this weekend reminded me (again and again and again) why I chose Oregon.

Things I have been doing:

1. Eating

2. Working

3. Dancing

4. Working

5. Working

Things I have not been doing:

1. Blogging

2. Laundry

3. Exercising

4. Sleeping

5. Dishes

So much for balance, right? Don’t worry - taking the weekend to figure it all out. Food Is A Love Story will be coming back with a vengeance.