Bornfamous

I’ve made a huge change in my eating habits over the past couple of years, going from the All-American Fast/Convenience Food Diet to mostly organic whole foods that I fix from scratch. Anyone who’s known me for very long would be astonished. I know I am.

For instance, who would believe that I could give up Diet C[rac]ke? Nobody, that’s who, least of all me. But I did, after realizing that I would never feel well as long as I was addicted to that poison. So I went to bed with a damp washcloth over my eyes and forehead, and suffered through the week-long migraine that is caffeine/sugar withdrawal–several times, thanks to relapses–and I am now, finally Coke-free. It’s been eighteen months since I had my last sip of the devil drink. There should be a twelve-step group for colaholics. I deserve one of those medals they give out.

I’ve also [mostly] given up grains, thanks to The No-Grain Diet and my increasingly picky digestive system. Every time I eat bread or pasta, I hear about it in the form of heartburn and other uncomfortable symptoms we won’t mention here. Gluten is now apparently a no-no for me after a lifetime of nutritional self-abuse.

I’ve [mostly] replaced the junk food with ultra-fresh, organic produce from a local CSA farm that delivers fresh-picked greens, veggies and fruit to a nearby pickup location twice a month. And I’m learning how to cook exotic [to me] foods like Swiss chard, acorn squash, fresh spinach, and kale.

Too bad nobody else in this household will touch the stuff. I feel like I’m hoarding all the good food for myself, but I’ve tried and I can’t get anyone to even taste one of my delicious salads. They seem to think there’s something weird about organic food. Robby even insists that organic potatoes don’t taste as good as what he considers “regular” ones.

I know it’s my fault for not making these changes when he was small, but it’s too late to go back. I can only hope that the message eventually sinks in that my current poor health is a direct result of a lifetime of junk food–and Coke, let’s not forget the soda; and yes, Robby is a serious colaholic. My fault. I rarely let him drink the stuff as a child, but he got hooked fast once he could buy his own C[rac]ke. Would I feel any more guilty if I were a recovering alcoholic watching my child go down the same path? Well, yeah. But still.

They say in twelve-step circles that you can’t change anyone but yourself. So I’m working on it, from the inside out. Good food, yoga, meditation–these are choices that I aspire to make on a daily basis. I don’t always succeed, but I’m trying. I want to be healthy again. And yes, I want to lose weight. Not that I’ve lost an ounce with all these changes, oh no. I’ve actually gained about ten pounds. Turns out you can pig out on healthy food too. It’s just so good that I keep wanting more. Plus, I cook too much food, enough for everyone else [there are some guests I'll tell you about later], and then nobody else wants any. What’s a girl to do? Okay, yeah, I could freeze the leftovers, I know that. So now I’m working on eating–and cooking–smaller portions. Because let’s face it, leftovers really aren’t very appetizing, or nutritious.

Which led me to a book called Japanese Women Don’t Get Old or Fat, a book about traditional Japanese home cooking. I love Japanese food, so this should be fun. But I also want to eat mostly local. Not sure how many Japanese ingredients can be found that are actually grown near San Diego, but the main thing is ultra-fresh veggies. That, I got covered.