I hate a bandwagon. If you need to know something about me, it’s that I’ll climb onto a bandwagon very reluctantly, only when my feet are blistered and bleeding and I can’t physically walk the remaining 5 miles home without help from a donkey. (Do donkeys even pull bandwagons?)
If cocktails in a bar are being served in cocunuts with straws, I’ll probably order a wine. In a pint glass.
But, dammit, my health needs to be taken in hand, like, with handcuffs. I’m drinking goddamn green smoothies. I throw in enough berries on top of the spinach to turn them poo brown so they can’t be called green. Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone I actually like the taste either. And you will NEVER catch these abominations on Instagram with a caption saying ‘oooh I feel green and clean’. Promise.
I am doing the things I laugh at people for doing. I know what chia is. I know how to say keen- wah. I’m getting freaky with freekeh. I put Stevia in my tea. (Aka tea with Steve. That Man is well jealous.)
The thing is, no migraine in 4 weeks. Less headaches. Face looking more like skin, less like pepperoni. And I am no fun anymore. What a frigging conundrum.
I read the well-holy wellness green food sites with two fingers at the ready, to make the gagging noises. I hate that shit. I should clarify. I like the food. I like to eat healthily, and I always have. What I don’t like is a supercilious attitude towards food and eating, and the prosyletising of health like a religion. Do what works for you, I say. I don’t need to see your hemp seed whale glue tree bark smoothie in a jam jar with a stripey paper straw to know you’re healthy. If you say you feel good, then great. I believe you. Pictorial evidence not required.
Unfortunately, I love healthy food, but I LOVE ALL THE FOOD. Including cheese. I want to be moderate and healthy, but I can’t even manage that right now. And this stupid ‘un-diet’ is working for me in a head-being-less-explosive guts not speaking in exclamation marks kind of way. I’m smiling spinach at people on the train to brighten their mornings too, as an added bonus. Damn you, bandwagon body. Climbing on without asking if I wanted to come. I want to drink the wine and eat figs and goats cheese and prosciutto until I’m a dairy nitrite headache acne filled cretin. But body says no. Too tired. Too sore.
No fun Kim. Pleased to meet you. Let’s see how we go.
Are any of you doing this ‘green’ thing? Are you out and proud or are you in the closet like me?