Kombuchat

Is orthorexia a real thing?

Ever heard of orthorexia?

Apparently it’s when you’re obsessed with eating foods you believe to be healthy.

First, I feel like “candy corn” is the plural form. (That “s” makes me uncomfortable.)

Second, so you mean… picky eaters?

Isn’t this isn’t this just another dietary label for people who chronically can’t balance because they don’t listen to their bodies and get caught up in some irrational goal about being a certain way, internally or externally? (Hopefully that mouthful of an inquiry is healthy enough for my literary orthorexics out there to nom on).

I mean, an obsession crosses over to “unhealthy” or “addiction” when it becomes a detriment to yourself and/or those around you. Is it keeping you from seeing anyone? Look into that, then. Is it making your hair fall out? Look at that, then. Imbibing becomes alcoholism when you take too much and frequently. Juicing or fasting to detox becomes anorexia when it turns into a week which then turns into a month which turns into a “Mayhaps I’ll go breatharian”. Same with cosmetic alterations.

But if you’re happy and not hurting anyone with your commitment to un-health, who am I to judge just how quickly or slowly you race to the six foot drop at the finish line every damned one of us is heading towards? Who is anyone to question that? What the question is, is: are you being a parasitic cancer to society and your friends or family or yourself because of it?

Because that does affect other people.

Which means you may need to stop.

I know, I know. It’s hard to accept the transient nature of everything – whether it’s our weight, youth, or that nice cockle-warming buzz you get only with that first quarter glass of wine. Our inability to deal with the discomfort of living is wrought out of a desire to be or feel our best all the time. That’s impossible. So some of us make ourselves all sad inside about it. With a dietary obsesh, you might wake up retaining water or feeling depressed – so you go to a polar extreme to compensate. Even spiritual path trekkers are guilty – it’s easy to end up morphing into an aghori when you try to meditate on just how you’re fcking up. Sure, you had a good intention and wanted to fix yourself. But you’re so anxious about being out of control – that you end up missing the entire point of what you’re doing – and also the human connection because you couldn’t STFU your brain enough now to be less distracted later.

It’s all about the “deal with it” freefall.

Like that chick from Frozen says:

This “orthorexia” is just the non-balance from not letting go of illogical life expectations.

Which makes it no different than the common freakout we all share when there’s a schism between our best laid plans… and reality. We buck logic and get pissed off that we couldn’t will our desires into existence. Then we self-sabotage until we do enough spiritual spelunking to realize how ridiculous we’re being.

That’s why the piece I read on “I was a borderline orthorexic” kinda surprised me.

Because with such a deep meditation practice as she illustrated (to the point of compulsion – the whole point of the article), how did it take her three years to figure that out about herself? I don’t mean that in a judgmental way, either. I say it because, for me, the insight that I was being such a bad-at-life douchebag clobbered me over the cranium like a cosmic “wrong way” sign on my first five minute try with meditation. It’s something I have to re-learn every time I do it too, apparently. Hence the reason I’m less of a transcenderexic (#AshleyOGterm) than some. Still, I do it. And while every sesh is indeed an act of ego masochism, it’s worth mining this shiz outta ourselves.

‘cause like Oscar Wilde says:

We’ve all got afflictions. Our charge is to find out the imbalance, set it right, and eschew the shiz that doesn’t serve us anymore. So – just remember – while you most def matter and are important in this world, you’ve got to do the work to make the scales fall even. Just like the rest of us. Which means that even though I love ya… you’re not special.

And neither is your -rexia.

No calorie? No way…

Something’s gotta give with this low-cal and alleged no-cal artificial food.

Usually, it’s our bowels.

Sometimes it’s just the obv fact about their non-fact advertising.

I mean, while stuff like this may hold true…

donuthole

… it still took me a bit to realize the duh factor about the lie of zero calorie claims.

And make my own dietary annotations to info I was told:

ashfacts

For example, I lived on “no calorie” crap like Coke zero for a good while in college – a fantastic supplement once my Stacker tolerance began kicking in. I’m not sure why I kept punishing myself with a life punctuated by frequent restroom trips. It was like colon clockwork, that stuff. Every lecture, I’d end up suffering a plight like the comeuppance of a villainous soon-to-be-ex boyfriend in every other romcom (see: Van Wilder, Wedding Crashers, The Other Woman) and hafta leave class.

TMI? Fantastic. Then we’re off to an epic start for Monday.

Less epic, looking back, was that later life-realization that my weight loss efforts were in vain. Not the good kinda vain that makes you leave the house looking like a young Kim Novak, either. I mean the kind of vain where not only are you vomiting out of the wrong end – and it’s to NO end because they lie when they say “zero” calorie on this tooth-staining crap. And legally they’re allowed to. Indeed, mislabeling something as zero is okay if it has no more than five calories. At first it kind of made me want to get gussied up in my Stepford best, hold a meeting with whoever made this rule, and ask:

“What’s the difference between zero and five …

…stab wounds?”

dontfuck

But as I furthered my biology career, I started to have that “should’ve known better” mentality creep over me. It was that old familiar embarrassment about having been duped by ads just as badly with coke as I’d been with cosmetics all my life.

And advertising isn’t solely to blame for this misconception.

Some are just old wives tales you’ll here from friends in high school that stick with you your whole life despite that part of your brain constantly saying, “That can’t be right… can it?” Take, for instance, the “negative calorie” myth about celery. Is it low calorie? Yes. Is it good as fckk for you? Absolutely. Does your body burn more calories processing it than it retains?

No.

No.It.Does.Not.

Even the healthy green guys get us – they don’t just melt into the watery body abyss.

witchpretty
(Dude, I had to look up and see if Wicked Witch and Mommy Dearest were the same person)

‘cause it’s still a net of about 5 cals per stick or stalk or whatever the hell they’re called.

But that just makes them “wicked” good – especially celery – because it’s high in fiber. Now there’s something – fiber – that doesn’t have calories in it in and of itself. But that’s only because we don’t really digest it. When it magic school buses into your system, it’s with the goal of playing pied piper to your cow pies till they reach the final destination of a drowny porcelain death. (Or a pile of detritus, mayhaps, if you’re Mick Dodge style livin’ it up in the woods). I’m too lazy to review what happens with the rats at the end of the fairy tale. But in your human happily-ever-after, the fiber piper dies along with his colonic cult. ‘cause your body doesn’t digest it – just whatever was around it.

And, I probably could have used a bit more of that fibrous celery in my Coke zero days (although with my then diet, I’d probably have just gotten excited because I would have mistaken it for the longitudinal cross section of an oversized Starbucks straw that meant they were now selling bubble tea).

bubbletea

But, to be fair, I can see how Coca Cola gets away with their mislabeling.

Ya see, I call it the “poophole loophole”.

For one, that “zero” could technically be read as more of a “T minus 0” second warning – the precise time you have to reach the loo before being blasted off into oblivion by your own fecal fuel eruption. Secondly – the calorie count could be more of a “net” thing. Like, mayhaps it wasn’t calorie free going in. But it definitely does a negative dip when you shiz that fizzy drink out.

Along with yesterday’s breakfast.

And your entire intact skeleton.

Sooo glad I prepare f’real food now with good cals so I’ve got actual energy to use ‘em, not avoid ‘em.

eattothat

…most of the time.

Vice-virtue diet? Or snack sociopathy?

Gotta love a good diet article that lures you with a cliché like “size matters”. But I’ll bite.

And if you just covered your chorizo when I said that, then great.

We’re already doing better than the status quo.

mcbj

Sadly, the status quo is a big part of the problem when it comes to changing bad habits of the diet genre. Sadder still, is when science feeds into it with a story about portion-control rebranded and packaged into something they call “virtue-vice” bundles. Actually, it’s worse than portion control because it’s saying that adding in fresh healthy stuff somehow cancels out that pink meat-goop you gulp between bread buns that leave between your flesh buns like a fiery toilet water kamikaze – but not before murdering your insides.

Are we so bad that science has to set the bar this low? (“If you finish all your brussels sprouts, Billy, then you can have some dessert.”) What are we? Children?!

Did you just read that in Zoolander voice? Yes? Good. But like during Zoolander’s pre-model humble beginnings, some people have a sitch where they simply can’t afford fresh food all the time. I get that. So while I adore the idea of adding apples to value meals for people who are too poor for more than the fast food life, I feel like there are good yes-and options we could be providing to help them out.

orangemocha

I like your enthusiasm, boys, but… let’s keep brainstorming.


PRODUCE FOR PO’ FOLK

For instance, I like the idea of urban public gardens I’ve heard about before – it’d be an awesome way to raise health in poverty stricken regions and create a planetary-relache by understanding where the food we eat comes from by raising them from the ground up. Also, I’d like to take it a step further. Like, wouldn’t it be cool if they had “Nursey-nurseries”? A place where hard working parents can drop their kids off to be cared for all day, while their children learn how to connect with the earth, plant plants, and take some produce home? While the kids are cultivating natch noms, they’ll also be cultivating and awareness and mayhaps a passion for later in life. Plus, it always feels good to know you’re contributing to your family unit in some way.

As for the rest of Americans doing alright enough to have basic needs met, there’s less of an excuse. If you reduce health to a hell-heaven ratio status, then our fat asses only going to eat more of everything so that we can get a taste bud BJ from B&J ice cream later with a ladle in our La-Z-boy.

keepthefood

COGNI-NOM DISSONANCE

The emotional deficit is what’s being missed here.

We chronically gorge when something’s not going right, we want bad food ‘cause our tongues dig the faux flavoring it’s covered in, and we’re willing to ignore that we’re poisoning our bodies with that food after we become addicted to that fake taste. When you’ve learned your diet is detrimental and still do it anyway, how is that not self-abuse? And what kinda person – other than one who is a bit head-sick and addicted – is willing to carry on self-abusing?

Well… a lotta us.

spiritedawayfood

‘cause as my second favorite Cranberries album title asked, “Everyone else is doing it so why can’t we?” Thus, status quo seems to be the ideal revival river in which to bathe our cognitive dissonance sins about how we McLive our lives.

The problem is – status quo ain’t healthy.

And we all know it. But we hide it away like Cinderella when the prince comes to visit with a shoe that won’t fit our feet ‘cause we’re too fat from lying to ourselves. And much like Cindy sans a fairy godmama, change is hard. Quitting milk products was way harder for me than quitting meat, but after three days, I didn’t even remember what they were like much less miss them. Why? ‘cause I felt awesome. It’s the getting through those few days that’s hardest. And that takes willingness. Can we do a scientific study on willingness and not-being-an-obstinate-self-sabotaging-asshole? Can we realize that adding greens after a heart attack sammich is like Ted Bundy working the suicide hotline after lady-murdering all night?

And that we still have to stop committing self-murder meals against ourselves?

Not tell ourselves an apple (likely slathered in Jiffy) cancels out all-you-can eat grease?

spiritedcafe

You might feel angry and confused.

Which is why I’m here to help.

For example, I see at least three additional solutions to the “virtue-vice” thing

PALM FLOGGER

First – bring a shame-shopper with you when you shop.

That way you can make your grocery trips more drive-by and less a DIY drive-through. ’cause the more you “browse” through the aisles (especially the gourmet section and especially when hungry), the more likely you are to buy shiz you don’t need and eat almost as poorly as if you’d just gone to Wendy’s. When you think of it, it’s like paying to get fat and feel like crap. But, obviously, when we’re ravenous, reason goes out the kitchen window while everything else in the kitchen ends up down our insatiable face holes. So, I suggest recruiting a friend to go Sister Mary Knuckle-Swat should you wander too near the bakery section in your time of gluttonous need.

canieatit

Or there’s the old hypnosis trick.


WAISTLINE WATCH WITH PENDULUM POCKET WATCH

I can testify that self-hypnosis works when you do it from the comfort of your own home via Youtube. The two vital components are that you have to really want whatever change it is you’re seeking and you have to be relaxed. If you’re tabbing over to google “what is relax?”, you could always just recruit a human third party Office Space style to help you find out. That way someone else can wield a dangling watch in front of your face until you’re cured of your Gouda and Godiva addictions. And if you’re lucky, he might have a heart attack (ironically from eating too much red meat) in the middle of your sesh, and then you’ll never eat badly again.

officeish

Or, the well loved pill popping technique.

DOWNWARD SPIRAL ALONG WITH YOUR WEIGHT

If all else fails, you could always just make like Requiem for a Dream’s Sarah Goldfarb.

Why feel a feeling like craving long enough to enjoy the subsequent self-validation of telling your inner Cartman to stand down? Especially when you can just kill your confections and cravings like two birds getting stoned on pharmaceutical uppers? This is a double-plus ‘cause you’ll get a phuck-ton of work done ‘round the house and the fridge will growl louder than your hungry tummy later at midnight munchies o’clock.

Which is right before it gets up and chases you outta the house.

sarahpills
♪”Murder by hunger… one, two, three…”

So, yeah. More public gardens that help those who don’t have enough.

And more studies showing sociopathic snacking still ain’t okay – even with a side of celery.

Silence of the lambs (roasted in garlic sauce and butter)

I get asked sometimes if I ever miss life before a cruelty-free diet.

Yes. There are days I long for murder meals. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t.

But, you may also know about my love for brain hacking – even for food time.

brainhacking

So, sometimes when I miss my cruelty diet, I try the following:

I start by walking into my kitchen with an air of terror about me. Rigid – with a heartless, icy gaze. Then, I’ll slowly sneak up on the fruit bowl in the quiet manner of a preying leopard. I can hear them shuddering already. Can you? I reach out, slowly, to soak up the energy of their nervous shifting – and laugh inwardly to myself.

As if that will help.

As if they can go anywhere.

Then, in one swift motion, the banana’s bloodcurldling lament echoes through my apartment complex. There are sobs and tearfully tireless raspy calling out after whichever one I’ve plucked from their family. This goes on for some time, as I retreat to the other room to enjoy my coffee first. Today, an organic Dole will lose her daughter. But for now, she knows the child’s still alive – albeit within view of my hungry stomach, as she quietly calls out to the mother she cannot see. This desperation pleases me.

Then, comes the calm before the storm.

For a moment, the world stops. No bird song. No wind blowing.

Just stillness.

And then… my kitchen captives can hear their kin’s skin being slowly peeled away… while she’s still alive. In a split second, her relatives – who’ve passed out from the earlier traumatic stress – reawaken to hear from atop my fridge that now familiar but distant sound of excruciating screeching. They join in – a vicarious emotional pain that is music to my ears. I am a god conducting a symphony with the mere gnashing of my teeth. Eventually, the pain becomes too much for her to even scream anymore. In paralytic terror, her throat bucks outward and she reflexively gulps at a few final panicked gasps – drowning on her own blood as I finish devouring her nude body at my desktop.

It’s over. It always goes too quickly.

That’s why I keep her hide to quilt into a Cavendish cape for later.

buffalobill

But I try my hardest to make it last.

Plus funds only allow for me to acquire new victims once a week. Thus their entire lives become an agonizing wait during which they’re taunted by fruit flies while they wonder whether they’ll go quickly – in full form – or more brutally: blended along with a few of their cousins – or have spices poured onto them as they’re slowly mashed with a dull spoon into a fruity cinnamon puree. All while the others watch and rock back and forth with the dazed gaze of someone who’s seen the depths of man’s dark abyss.

So yeah. There are workarounds for people acclimating to a cruelty-free diet.

But it’s like my guru taught me that one time when I was Julia Roberts in India.

“It must come from within.”

veganlecter
(Scarier plot twist: the corn was grown by Monsanto)

This tale brought to you by: “A twisted twist on shiz that actually happens to the sentient creatures you eat“ Follow the links above to enjoy!

Do distractions help or hurt mindful eating?

I’ve always thought it was interesting how most dogs are “self-feeders”.

Don’t worry – this isn’t going to be another dog post. But what’s fascinating to me is how when it comes to their own, regular, non-human food – they’ll eat a bit and say “put a fork in me” (not literally – that would be terrifying on several levels). But if you put some leftovers from whatever you’re eating down on the ground, they’ve got their dining bib back on in seconds.

Why is that? I tend to think it has more to do with all the excitotoxins and herbs and salts and spices we (and manufacturers) use to decorate every meal like a sacrificial Christmas tree destined for our tongue and gullet. We like variety because we get bored, so we spoil our mouths at meals. Is this bad? Not necessarily – but for some, it causes them to overeat because you get addicted to the seasoning itself – and go past the point of satiation in the process. And if you over-serve yourself food, you may eat the whole plate instead of saving seconds for tomorrow (and in effect, saving money, weight gain, and so on).

campbells
(Amy’s is where it’s at.)

But this recent study on portion control showed first that adults tend to lick the plate clean while kids turn their noses up at most stuff. And then “yes-and” analysts tried to expound on this study, claiming that distractions while eating make you consume less. I dunno about this because the “distractions” in the actual study had to do with more interactive things – like eating out at a restaurant and using a computer. Most people I know are actually more likely to overeat if they’re passively being distracted by a T.V. or sat in a movie theater and captive audience to the Platonic puppets playing on the silver screen cave wall.

Plus, I feel like another factor is whether you’re alone and just eating your feelings.

feelings
We can see that, honey :/

If you’re a real foodie, even then the distractions aren’t quite as alluring.

For me and most people I know, if we’re just hanging out outside and eating, the meal always ends with something left on the plate. It doesn’t matter if we’re at a restaurant, the beach, or on the deck outside of our own abodes. The only “distraction” or “entertainment” is the comfort of the natural surroundings and the way food tastes different when there’s fresh air mixing in with it.

Hey! Maybe that’s why people get so effing fat in winter – because it’s so shitty outside and there’s nothing real to take comfort in. So we sit on the couch stuffing our faces with spiced up grub like birds voluntarily prepping for our final form as foie gras.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Then by spring, we’re too addicted to the seasonings to appreciate real food’s taste.

Who knows? It’s all supposition. Even science constantly contradicts itself on this. And -… wait are you still looking at that force-fed goose being tortured up above? Ah, you are. That’s alright. After all, distraction’s good for mindful eating, right?

Bon appetit!

Science says starving is healthy.

Science says: Fasting is good for you!

Well… food fasting is good for you. For like… a day. Or two.

And you still to have water.

And eat clean.

renstimpyeatingclean
(Close enough.)

I’ve got a friend or twenty who do cleanses and fasts and coconut water fasts and…

…it’s dizzying. I can’t keep up and I don’t have any warm fuzzy feeling about trading in tomatoes for dirty dishwater. They make it seem intuitive (do it when your body needs it) and I’d totes be down with that, but my mind body connection is sort’ve off to the point where I can’t trust it. I hafta do a bit of work to get into normal people mode each day – so I’m no sure what to use for “this is the normal-A.M. shitty feel” versus “Uh oh, I have ebola again” barometer. I usually just wait till I go all Linda Blair on my barista and paint her in last night’s soup before I dare to say, “Hmmm. I might be slightly under the weather.”

meangirlsweather

Whether you’re like me or can see the sickies coming a mile away with your third eye, science has shown evidence that short-term fasts can be alright for both boosting immunity, mental function, and longevity. Immunity-wise, the fast allows an expedited killing off of damaged, useless bum white blood cells loitering around your body and smoking weed on the couch all day, while the other ones are hard at work. Then, when your body machine rebounds, your stem cells are all like “I got this shiz” and set you up with a brand new sexy batch of healthy replacement WBCs to kick pathogen ass.

Long term, though? No Bueno. In fact, when people do this for non-sickness reasons – like diet or religion – if they’re body-smart, they’ll either stop after a day or two or eat at sundown. The best thing to remember though is that – even though it’s singing your name like an Odysseyean siren – go for fruits and veges (says science, not me) versus the crappy stuff after your fast. Your body’s telling you yes and your mind’s telling you “Don’t come to me for a second opinion when your father already gave you an answer. Go to your room, you insolent child! And bring this entire cheesecake and a serving spoon!”

So you’ve got two shoulders full of devils. But your higher-mind knows that’s just your biological programming Matrixing itself into the Grapes of Wrath and thinking ya might never see food again until the incestuous supper finale when you have to drink milk from your daughter’s titties.

Wait – was it daughter? Or niece?

Nephew?

ivegotnipples

I dunno. I’ve starved to get skinny before. But now that I can halve my weight and eat shit too (let’s collectively acknowledge that that failed as an “have my cake” substitute and move on), it seems less appealing to do for funsies. Plus, I get addicted to things easily. And fasting is one of those things where it’s annoying at first, but then you start to get this high toward the end where you feel like Casper’s drunk cousin. That lithe, intoxicated, starvation valium can be a bit too easy to latch onto – and by the time it sets in, my brain’s not functioning well enough for me to think, “Oh, these must be symptoms of my body shutting down!” Instead, my Oliver Twist antithesis kicks in, rejecting rations, and singing Pink Floyd remixes in joyful protest of sustenance.

“We don’t need no mastication

We don’t need no peristalse

Hey! Wolfgang! Leave me the Puck alone!”

starve

Yeah. No. One’a you’z try this.

And report the results back to me.

Is the road to hell also paved with good deeds?

Following this diet began as a venture into sexy.

That shiz got boring when it took too long.

But when I started eating more natural, organic, juicy-like-a-Brazilian-butt-stuff (versus the vegan form of junk food), I went to bed with Buddha’s belly and woke up with Ghandi’s (that’s a metaphor; I’m not a spiritual Dahmer Bundy chimera. Despite popular opinion).

womanjesus
(To be fair, he did request we body buffet him at his going away party.)

That was when veganism veered without my permission into the territory of being about being less douchey. And I thought I was going to lose my whole identity. Could I carry on being my brand of “kinda an asshole, kinda sweet?” The answer is yes. Because no one has a true brand. None of us. Sometimes we’re nice, sometimes we’re dicks, and sometimes three shrinks will try to tell us we’re bipolar. And what do we do about it? Take ’em out Dexter Morgan style and get a fourth opinion, obviously.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

dextersmile
(Great. Now everyone knows what’s really happening when I rando-grin)

But underlying my sarcastic, defensive, and cruel retorts I-try-to-not-say-anymore-but-come-naturally-to-mind-so-easily-that-it-hurts, there’s a well of kindness I’m still not sure how to access easily. And what I do observe is that some hardcore vegans forget (while getting caught up in diet dogma) a basic principle of their own philosophy – that compassion extends to all creatures – including fellow people.

An example – my sister likes to put the sign of the Jesus-cross on my forehead whenever we part ways. Do I believe in her religion? No. Do I have some traumatizing but-I-suppose-there-are-altar-boys-who’ve-had-it-worse style associations with the Catholic church? Yes. And did my sister anoint me with this sign I don’t believe in, using a finger full of Chicken Little carcass grease last week? Yes. This all happened.

And there was a time I would have morphed into a Jersey [Sh]whore ’bout it.

dramatrauma

But that’s the thing about trying to be less of an asshole – you see the bigger picture.

It’s my sister, she loves me, she wasn’t doing it to be passive aggressive, and she was just using the tools that help her access the same cosmic force we all live by and to whom some assign names. As for the chicken grease, that might have been a bit thoughtless, but she acknowledged that. And even if she does do it again, I’ll simply do the compassionate thing:

Clockwork Orange her ass into watching Earthlings.

For 24 hours.

On repeat.

clockworkcured

So, it’s not easy but it might be the only diet I haven’t gotten bored with.

While there are some yes-and details about that which are awesomely transcendent, language does a shitty job of conveying them. Sorry ’bout it.

Instead, I’ll say this much: When I eat energizing foods, I get jazzed and want – not have – to jog for an hour each day. Even when I do less, the scale numbers drop. Once they dropped by ten pounds, I crossed the FitBit off my list. Why bother? My workouts are about fun. My meals are exciting. I’m never lethargic and never starving. Maybe that’s what drives a selfish bish like me into feeling a bit kinder. And it’s not just because I’m not eating deep fried corpse. But for once I don’t have to monitor input output like a sadistic bank that charges you hidden fees which show up as assfat. And when I stop worrying about vanity-concerns, I can focus on other people.

And I’m still not sure about the human versus animal compassion hierarchy. Or what to do when diet and attempts at being like the Buddhist Monk version of Jesus crash head on like those two trains that got mixed signals that one time.

Still I try. Like yesterday, for instance. I usually don’t like to share my attempts at doing nice things (‘cause it comes off all “look at me!”) on social media, but this dude I respect (Mr. Russell Brand) asked his Youtube viewers about something good they’ve done recently – in an effort to focus on positives instead of negatives. Interestingly enough, I’d done something earlier that day when I met a lady called Cathy holding up a cardboard sign saying “I’m homeless” and I mentioned it only because he’d asked people to – but also I had motives of my own. That hierarchy o’ life reverence reared its head slightly and I desired a bit of input.

trews
(Well, even Jesus kicked over a few church tables in the name of do-gooding.)

Growing a conscience orchard with clay soil results in a forest of confusion fruiting trees.

And it’s so stupid that I even worry about things like this.

Especially when my inner Jiminy Cricket still suggests things like, “let’s tell the children accosting your dog that she has rabies and they’re going to catch it if they keep pressing on her so hard. If that fails, tell them their mother’s been rammed by a car and is pinned into a tree and they need to hurry and go to her to say their final goodbyes. If that fails, tell them Adventuretime’s being cancelled. Then cry a little yourself at the thought of Adventuretime being cancelled.”

famguypetbrian

Luckily, I can realize there’s another voice somewhere in there.

And even though the reasonable one I’ve begun hearing and whose advice I try to heed has Dwayne Johnson’s voice (instead of the Morgan Freeman one I ordered), at least I didn’t, ya know, get Mike Tyson’s. So, there’s that.

In sum: The road to hell isn’t paved with good intentions or questionable good deeds.

It’s not paved with anything.

Except an excess of hookers and drugs and being an asshole. Probably.

Herb’s the word: last longer with old spice(s).

Did you know your old spices can save your life?

oldspice

Mmmyeah. No. Not that kinda old spice. I mean the neglected add-ins patiently waiting around in the back of your kitchen cabinet like sad unused toys?

I sure didn’t know. But I have been unknowingly adding in at least some of the major players. Since most of my daytime diet is plain fruit and stuff, a nice warm, comforting bowl of homemade soup is my fave at night. I dump in some fresh-whatever and flavor up my stew of vegetables drowned in their own blood with what’s in my cabinet. Typically my favorite additives include onion, garlic and herbs, a bit of sesame oil, and maybe some hot-sauce. But as I get bored, I’m always looking to new options. So, I just may have to try re-introducing some of these items whose health benefits are being championed so I can stave off a prolonged disease-y death for the second half of my life. Which is coming up. Some of these cabinet warriors that work as natch preventable cure alls are already in my cabinet. Others, I’ll be trying for the first time during my next Wegman’s adventure.

gangrene
(It’s funny ’cause he’s dead now either way.)

While I’m there, I might pick up some Cinnamon. This one’s getting some good press as it was recently shown to reverse Parkinson’s in mice. After working for years with a Parkinson’s patient at my old P.T. job, I’m totes on board for preventing this terrible disease. Loaded with antioxidants, it also helps with type 2 diabetes, lowers blood pressure, and increases insulin sensitivity. You don’t have to do much convincing my tongue, either (giggity?) because I grew up on this stuff – adding it to everything from already sweetened confections to tea with honey. I dunno why I ever stopped buying it, honestly.

Wait – if I buy the type with lots of sugar in it, does it still help?

cinnabun
(It’s funny ’cause it’s false.)

Then there’s turmeric, which I seem to be hearing a lot about lately. A buddy of mine adds it into smoothies and salads and now there seem to be increasing reports about its health benefits. Even though it looks like that weird thing Pan puts under her dying mom’s bed and feeds milk in between her labyrinth dwelling, it may help do exactly what homegirl was trying to accomplish: fight disease. (That is what she was trying to do, right?) It’s proven itself enough in preventing Alzheimer’s and also by slowing cancer enough to be considered a good supplement to chemotherapy. Plus, it suppresses the pathway for growth of things like head and neck cancers. Yes, I’d like the life option that doesn’t end with cancer in my head. Or neck. *Add to the list I always end up leaving at home.*

tumericalz

Another cancer slayer has a sweet name you might hear in a fairy story about the 1800’s: Rosemary.

Deemed super effective in reducing carcinogenic compounds, it’s also an antibacterial and antifungal. So if you’re getting sick or catch snatch rash of the cheesey taco variety, mayhaps this’ll be a good way to avoid the compounded discomfort on top of bottom discomfort when you hafta wait in line with a box o’ vagisil?

If not, there’s always a silver lining.

yeastqueef

Thyme oil also inhibits bacterial growth so much that marinating poultry in it helps increase its shelf life. What’s more – it also reduces inflammation. So if you’re suddenly having a pizza face episode outta nowhere and don’t like using those benzoyl creams that make you look like Harvey Dent, thyme’s on your side.

And on your side for pain is ginger. You may have used ginger for an upset tummy or as a nice side for your Fukushima sushi, but did you know it can also assuage arthritic aches? Or even just after-exercise-it-hurts-because-I-don’t-work-out-enough-and-my-body’s-in-shock kinda aches? A couple grams in a capsule is suggested daily, but I think I’d rather just eat it. Why not? Because, much like tumeric, it also looks like something that might come to life and cry when I start cutting it.

That’s why.

sid

For other sorts of pains, though, there’s peppers.

Ah, man. I wish chile peppers loved my stomach as much as my tongue loves them. Spicy stuff’s my fave, but I end up with the supreme bummer that is wicked heartburn when I eat more than a bite or two of red peppers. Thus, I’m putting my tummy through rehab until it learns this food is capable of reducing pain causing neurotransmitters (and allegedly scale numbers, too). Honestly, I just like the way it tastes – likely an association thing of being a kid and eating garbage pizza (is any pizza not garbage?) which was fun because 1. it was savory and 2. we ordered it on nights when the parents yelled at us the least: Friday.

On that note, I’ve gotta grocery list to construct so I can still do this when I’m like 90:

yogini

“But, Ashley, you can’t even do that now.”

Irrelevant!

I will magically age-reverse and last forever, like a well kept china doll.

Even if it takes all the herb aisles in town.

Broccoli cocktail: magical toxin cure?

In my land, we clutch green drinks to fit in and feign health between bad habits.

cigleaf

Sometimes I’ll even buy a green tea soy iced latte and pretend it’s chloro-filled. But in China – it just might be saving some lives from their own air. Ya know, I didn’t realize just how badly polluted Beijing was until more recently. And having never traveled there (or anywhere foreign, really), I had only my brother’s description to go on. He’d namely talk about how loud the traffic was when he’d visit and stay in hotels. So it stands to reason that if it’s that noisy, with so many cars pumping out so much carbon monoxide and crap at once – that would make for some lethal ass fumes.

Indeed, while the recommended level for fine particle concentration is meant to be no higher than 25 micrograms, the level in Beijing is… (wait for it)…over 500 micrograms. And just like in my country and numerous others, the answer is always to look at everything but fixing the actual problem (twinsies!). The city’s been dubbed “almost uninhabitable”. (I wonder if they say “almost” because people do make it their habitat – just not for very long before they die of cancer or some massive lung growth).

“Living greener” may not be part of the plan – but drinking greener just might be.

It’s not news to hear that broccoli can help prevent cancer, but sometimes I need a few numbers and stats to reinforce it. And what better way than by looking at its effect in a city with such filthy air? A magical potion made of broccoli sprouts was recently the subject of a Johns Hopkins study done in China. In the research, 300 men and women were observed. Upon guzzling the cruciferous cocktail, some major body pollutants like carcinogens and respiratory irritants were excreted from the urine en masse (about 60% and 23% respectively eliminated). While it’s believed that other ick-factors may have also been expelled, this preliminary look tracked benzenes and acroleins specifically because of their easy-to-trace nature.

But, what’s broccoli got to do with it?

verysimple

Well, on a “rock, scissors, paper, lizard, spock” explanache level, it basically has one thing (glucoraphanin) that makes another thing (sulphoraphane) ask our body enzymes to do work, bitch, like Britney. And when these enzymes come to work, they break it down like Britney too – break down the pollutants, that is. Then, we can pee ‘em on out and carry on living our lives with less chance of cancer.

The only “downside” (if you can call it that) is that they think this likely only works for recent exposure to pollutants. In other words, if you’ve got the nasties hiding out like late Laden in your adipose tissue, it sounds like this’ll be as effective on fat cells as your last diet pill fail was.

On the flipside, while it might not work on the too-late stuff, it might just work on a preventative level. Because the enzymes it catalyzes have blocking properties – they can swoop in like an NBA pro, set a pick against incoming chemicals, and stop carcinogenic action in its tracks.

Furthermore – the effect does not plateau. These people living in polluted areas, kept excreting that same chemical percentage after months:

“We thought the pathway might respond initially, and then the [compounds] would wear out their welcome and the body would tune out,” a researcher at both Johns Hopkins and the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine and an author of the study, tells The Salt. “But the effect was just as vigorous at the beginning as at the end, which suggests that over one’s lifetime, you could enhance this preventative activity in the body [with food].”

Reason enough for me!

I mean – we all gotta die, but cancer’s one of the last ways I’d like to make my grand departure (right up there with a long family road trip that culminates in me being driven slowly into the mouth of madness until I’m forced to paint the rear window with my grey matter). So, if you feel the same – start stalking the produce aisles for stalks of broccoli, my loves!

Wait. You do know what broccoli and broccoli sprouts look like, yes?

toiletbrush

Carb mouthwash – the new preworkout?

So you want to squeeze in a workout… but you forgot to eat.

preworkout

Why not get that energy burst through your taste buds instead of legal crack?

A recent study aimed to see if “carbohydrate” is among the tastes we can sense – and whether merely tasting carbs can cause the same effect on our mind and body as actually eating them. As sugar and carbs translate to gas for our active pastimes, the journal “Appetite” observed athletes after having them slosh around a carby solution for 30 seconds or so. The response?

There was indeed a jolt in brain activity and sensory perception straight away.

That’s all well and good – but does this study prove that carbs merit a place on the taste list? Eh… I’m not so sure. I mean, my first thought was, “Oh – it’s just a Pavlovian response.” But then, I read that the study accounted for that – creating a placebo solution containing the same taste but none of the carbohydrates – and the folk who got their tastes trolled did not respond quite the same way as those scope-style sloshing the carb-y solution.

Even so – does that really prove it’s a taste receptor thing?

I tend to think it’s more of a combo effect – the Pavlovian response combined with basic biology. The Pavlovian part still makes sense because our taste and smell are so closely linked to one another and to memory. If we taste something that reminds us of prepping for blood pumping routine, wouldn’t that wake up those brain centers?

dunnolol

But as the study shows, that perception of taste alone wasn’t enough (as the placebo group showed). So, on the body-bio end of my theory – there’s that vein underneath your tongue. I remember having a mind-blow moment when I learned that you can put certain drugs and vitamins alike under your taste muscle for “rapid absorption” (and then passing out moments later from the klonopin wafer I’d taken). So, if drugs and vitamin B12 can mosey on through there, then why not the carbalicious cocktail contents in the test?

This study’s a good example of that whole correlation-doesn’t-mean-causation thing. I feel like the only way for this to be a true taste-bud test would be to have people lick a solid sample only. No sucking or swallowing (giggity) or sloshing (less giggity).

That said, the results could still be of use. “Carb” may not be a flavor, but it could totally be marketed by making it into a pre-cardio sublingual tablet. Or chewing gum. Or mix it with coconut oil and pull out the disgusting bacteria as you carb up. #multitasking

Fine from a marketing standpoint but I still say eff the pre-workout powders.

And the shortcuts.

It’s all about them healthy ass bananas with dem nines on the sticker.

Motherfucker.

pottystore