I would like to break from the photo essay-style posts to write some prose. Several of you have commented (either on the blog or in conversation) about my propensity for dry cereal. Carbs are almost always mentioned in these comments. Unfortunately, this concern is something I simply don't understand. If I put milk on my Cheerios, wouldn't I still be eating just as many carbs? Nutritionally speaking, I don't understand the difference between eating it dry and eating it with milk. Does dairy work some magic dietary juju to counteract the carbs?
My theory of eating is pretty simple: if it tastes good, I will put it in my mouth. If it doesn't, I won't. I realize this is a poor theory to operate on, from a health standpoint, but the nuances of nutrition were absent from my upbringing. At my house we ate what Big Lare liked, and I think most of you are familiar enough with
my father's physique that you can imagine what I was raised on. We did not eat broccoli. We drowned our corn in butter and salt. We put cheese on everything. My taste buds simply do not like the things that they should -- like spinach and tofu and reduced fat microwave popcorn that tastes suspiciously like rice cakes. I like fat, I like preservatives, I like sugar. Plain and simple.
Also, I am the most stubborn person in the world, even when it comes to things I
haven't been doing for my entire life. I don't change anything for anybody, so this eating business is particularly sticky. I have been eating one certain way for 26 years -- well, at least since my parents started feeding me solid foods -- and I'm accustomed to it. I find routine comforting; constancy could be my religion.
Actually, I think that the story of my first non-milk food is an apt symbol here. The first thing my parents fed me was strained carrots. There is video footage of this incident. I spit the carrots at my mother, I spit the carrots onto my highchair, I spit the carrots onto the floor, and I puked up the carrots they did manage to get me to swallow. I cried and screamed and cried and cried until they took the carrots away. But applesauce, non-milk food #2, went over like a charm.
My father always says, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," and I feel like my diet ain't broke. I like the foods I eat, I like the amount I eat, I like the frequency with which I eat. But I bet that my body would tell a different story...and therein lies the problem.
Breakfast, 9:30 a.m.
A can of mandarin oranges. I always drain the syrup.
Lunch, 12:30 p.m.
Leftovers from yesterday. (There's still a little pasta
left in the fridge.)
Snack, 6:45 p.m.
Fruit salad -- my grandma's "recipe"...to the extent
that there can be a recipe for fruit salad. It's a pint of
whipping cream, 1/4 cup of sugar, and 1/2 tsp vanilla
for the "whipped cream" part, and then lots of random
fruit. I used blueberries, strawberries, green apples,
pineapple, and bananas. My writers' group liked it.
Dinner, 8:30 p.m.
We always order in on writers' group night since we
meet at 6:30 and usually go until 10 or so. It works
out, because everyone gets to eat and the host doesn't
have to cook. This week, we opted for cheese steaks
from Milano's. I only ate a few fries, and about 2/3 of
the sandwich.
