I’ve been thinking of this for awhile, so I’m just venting. Here goes.
As I get older, I am coming to the realization that food hates me. Or maybe I hate food. Not me, but my body.
Let’s rewind for a second.
When I started college, August 2005, I broke out in all of the hives. So I had to have one of those super fun allergy tests to see what it could have been. It turned out I was allergic to everything outside, then two foods. Peanuts and potatoes. The peanut allergy is minor, but because it’s a peanut allergy I just avoid it when I can.
I grew up on potatoes. My whole life I would feel blah after eating but just assumed it was normal. Turned out a chunk of that “blah” feeling was potatoes.
I’ve since cut them out of my diet. Oh, the look I get from people when I tell them that. But you would be surprised what you could go without.
Then over the last few years through all of the stupid diets I’ve done, I’ve learned there are other foods that bother me or make me feel blah. Really, it’s a lot of foods. But over the last few years I have finally cut most of the soda out of my life and some other things. Trust me though, I’m no health fit guru.
But anyway, I’ve just had to make changes to try to lose weight or because they make me not feel well.
Now there’s more to add to the list!
Two Saturdays ago we went out and I had a taco and rice for dinner, then later on had a few glasses of wine. I got this feeling in my chest, not a tightness but an aching feeling and it just stayed. So a week later, this last Monday I wasn’t sure what it was, and was able to squeeze into my doctor’s office.
What could it be?
“Ah, that makes sense.” I said.
So now what? I need to make MORE changes to help get this together.
I’m tired of making changes. Hence, food hates me.