Food for thought
It’s been a week since my biopsy, and there is still no word from my dermatologist. Hopefully, I’ll get the results during my appointment this Friday. I’m not sure I can wait any longer than that without having a full-blown meltdown.
This health scare is the latest in a long line of stupid never ending crap that is my life. First, there was my bad marriage, now my bad divorce, financial worries, and chronic health problems. Living with rheumathoid arthritis isn’t easy, until I compare it with the idea of living with cancer. Now that would suck!
I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point in the last week, I decided to change my way of living, in the hope that it would spare me further health problems, especially with the big C.
It began with the foods I eat — well, don’t eat. I restricted my consumption of bread, pasta, sugar (artificial and natural) and starchy vegetables to once a day. I eat very little nightshade vegetables, twice a week at the most. I still have dairy, but that is more out of concern for my osteopenia than anything else. I eat loads of green leafy vegetables, zucchini, celery, apples, and on and on with nature’s bounty. I occassionally sneak in a small fruit bar or a toffuti cutie, but that isn’t every day.
Oftentimes, when looking at food I don’t think, “Mmmmm, yummy!” I think, “Hmmmm, will this give problems later today? Will I be paying for this years down the road?” Eating feels less like a pleasurable sensation and more like the path to sickness and disease.
Today, I watched a friend fry hamburger patties in butter. For the first few seconds, they smelled great. Very quickly, the odor changed from yummy goodness to thick and smoothering. (No, she didn’t burn the butter!) As I stared at the raw, red patties I imagined what my doctor saw as she cut out my mole for the biopsy. They were completely unappetizing after that!
I would call my new eating habits a healthy lifestyle change were they not motivated by fear. I expect my every meal to give me cancer. That can’t be normal!
It begs the question: is this the beginning of an eating disorder?
I don’t know.
It strikes me as funny that after all the years of stress from living with my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott, when the worst (our marriage) is almost over, is when I finally flip out!
It freakin’ figures.
F*cked-up Flo
Add comment April 26th, 2006