Tweet Once, in high school, I passed out in the locker room after swim class and the gym teacher rescued me which was awful because my swimsuit was half off and there's nothing like waking up from a coma to your male gym teacher pleading someone pull her suit up. As if that wasn't bad enough - and it totally should have been - I was then singled out by the Vice Principal. She thought I had an eating disorder and my punishment for passing out was eating school lunch in the nurse's office every day for a week. I had to sit there for a half hour after I was finished to make sure I didn't purge. I tried to tell them that if they wanted to join me for my daily Big Mac and french fries dipped in mayo lunch down at the local McDonald's they could. Let me tell you, I liked to eat!
But somehow I got old. And my body got decrepid. And I feel weak and creaky and ... well, old. Like my body just isn't functioning like it should. Like it used to. And one thing led to another, which led to celiac disease and gross gluten free breads, and now I'm staring down an appointment with a Dietician/Nutrionist. I'm assuming my problems are stemming from a less than stellar gluten free diet. I get confused over whether or not I can have things that include whey and stuff like that.
And I know what's going to happen: she's going to make me keep track of what I eat. And I'm going to have to come clean about the multiple cans of soda and the candy bars and the fact that I really can eat an entire bag of Salt & Pepper Pop Chips in one sitting. (Don't look at me like that; according to the nutrional information there are only 3 servings per bag.)
She's going to make me eat celery. And egg whites. And I'm going to have to scour the ingredients list on every stupid package of food to make sure there's no hydroxypropylated starch of caramel color or sphingolipids listed because they might utilize a gluten-containing grain in their manufacturing process and honestly, I'd rather just dive into a Big Mac. I might as well throw in my dentures and shuffle down to the dining hall for my unsalted mush-meal.
Also, that gym teacher who saw me half-naked? Yeah, he comes in my office all the time. Awkward.