McLove at First Site
(*I am going to try something "new" today; complete sentences and proper capitalization. We'll see. Let me know what you think.)
"Save me the Crispies!", I would yell, if my five-year-old obligations ever kept me from the kitchen as mom fried up the legs & thighs - skin on, of course. As soon as I was finished with my dance routine to the Greece Soundtrack or tucking Lilly Rose (my favorite doll with a mysterious man's signature scrawled on her behind) into her bed, I would race into the kitchen to inhale the little nuggets of flour that had been sizzled (in two inches of vegetable oil) to a golden perfection in my mom's blue and white electric skillet.
A few years later I recall news of the newest addition to the Golden Arches family opening up right on the main road by our neighborhood. I collected all of my change in a thin yellow knit sock to show my mother how committed I was to getting the whole family there for the opening night. Not only would my entire third grade class be there, but so would a clown and a magician. Soon after the opening, I remember sitting in the front seat of our beige station wagon, rehearsing my Happy Meal order in my head. As we rounded the corner, I would see something that would change my life - forever.
Just ahead stood an adolescent worker of this fine establishment, so grown up in their brown polo shirt and mesh hat. Holding in her hand was a sample tray full of a new product - the Chicken McNugget - each piece of chicken mechanically pressed into imperfect shapes that gave off only the vague impression of naturally cut meat. That much was clear to me, even at age 9 or 10. But what was more clear is that it would be many years before I ever ordered another hamburger. I was in love.
I think I may have told this story about this time two years ago, but it plays such an important role in my relationship with food that I tell it (again?) this morning. The golden nugget is a perfect metaphor for my ideal food. It if was batter dipped and deep fried, it was as gold to me. This left out, as you can imagine, some food groups such as fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. And at the age of 25, I began to pay the cost. At the age of 30, I continue.
Last week, along with my detox diet I had my blood drawn. In a few more days I will receive a report indicating which foods my body appears to be sensitive to. I have no doubt that over the years my diet heavy laden with fats, sugar, and refined flour has left my body stripped of many of the nutrients it has needed. And I will continue to share my journey of trying to repay it. So far the price has been uncomfortable, as I am embarking upon day number three of flu-like symptoms, as I am flushed of toxins and left feeling not unlike a meth addict in rehab.
"Save me the Crispies!", I would yell, if my five-year-old obligations ever kept me from the kitchen as mom fried up the legs & thighs - skin on, of course. As soon as I was finished with my dance routine to the Greece Soundtrack or tucking Lilly Rose (my favorite doll with a mysterious man's signature scrawled on her behind) into her bed, I would race into the kitchen to inhale the little nuggets of flour that had been sizzled (in two inches of vegetable oil) to a golden perfection in my mom's blue and white electric skillet.
A few years later I recall news of the newest addition to the Golden Arches family opening up right on the main road by our neighborhood. I collected all of my change in a thin yellow knit sock to show my mother how committed I was to getting the whole family there for the opening night. Not only would my entire third grade class be there, but so would a clown and a magician. Soon after the opening, I remember sitting in the front seat of our beige station wagon, rehearsing my Happy Meal order in my head. As we rounded the corner, I would see something that would change my life - forever.
Just ahead stood an adolescent worker of this fine establishment, so grown up in their brown polo shirt and mesh hat. Holding in her hand was a sample tray full of a new product - the Chicken McNugget - each piece of chicken mechanically pressed into imperfect shapes that gave off only the vague impression of naturally cut meat. That much was clear to me, even at age 9 or 10. But what was more clear is that it would be many years before I ever ordered another hamburger. I was in love.
I think I may have told this story about this time two years ago, but it plays such an important role in my relationship with food that I tell it (again?) this morning. The golden nugget is a perfect metaphor for my ideal food. It if was batter dipped and deep fried, it was as gold to me. This left out, as you can imagine, some food groups such as fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. And at the age of 25, I began to pay the cost. At the age of 30, I continue.
Last week, along with my detox diet I had my blood drawn. In a few more days I will receive a report indicating which foods my body appears to be sensitive to. I have no doubt that over the years my diet heavy laden with fats, sugar, and refined flour has left my body stripped of many of the nutrients it has needed. And I will continue to share my journey of trying to repay it. So far the price has been uncomfortable, as I am embarking upon day number three of flu-like symptoms, as I am flushed of toxins and left feeling not unlike a meth addict in rehab.
posted by cara harjes at
3/30/2008 07:51:00 AM
3 Comments:
ugh.
i think it's the plight of our generation.
get well. xo
cara, I'm going to be going through the same detox and blood tests. I'm hoping to avoid surgery for endometriosis. My new homeopathic doctor thinks it's possible. I think I'm going to wait til summer when I can feel miserable and not have to go to work. Hang in there, it'll be worth it!
i'm going to assume you have visited a homeopathic doctor, yes? because mine is marvellous - and truely did help.
thinking of you my friend x
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