You should eat them.
There, world saved (yet again) by your favorite pastry-based blogger. Cocktails anyone? Just kidding. These cocktails are all for me. Don’t look at me like that. As if you’ve never seen someone put a crazy straw in a bottle of Hendrick’s before. Hmph.
This is kind of a touchy subject for me because in the Library of Alexandria-size archives of Things I Hate, the Food Police is right on up there with genocide and drop waists after 1937 except for Hubert Givenchy.
I hate moralizing about food inasmuch as when you eat “good” foods and/or deprive yourself you are “being good” and when you eat “bad” foods you’re “being bad.” There’s no such thing as BAD food. There’s Valuable Food and food that’s not as valuable. If you get good nutritional stuff out of it, it’s valuable. See? World fixed twice in one day and I haven’t even put my bra on yet.
Part of the whole Not Treating Yourself Like Crap master plan is giving your body what it needs and your body needs Valuable Food because malnutrition –much like the Wu Tang Clan– ain’t nothin’ to, uh, have intimate genital-based relations with.
It so easy, SO easy as big girls to ignore the whole concept of malnutrition because look at us, we’re not exactly wasting away, but let me tell you something gang I was malnourished for almost a decade and it sucked.
I actually didn’t KNOW I was malnourished, I was taking in vitamins and minerals and although not everything that passed through my ruby lips could be whole-heartedly considered Good For Me (and that goes for food, too) I was doing pretty well at getting near that five a day, and that’s not even counting Bloody Marys.
I was taking in vitamins and minerals, but for some at-that-point-undetected reason, I wasn’t absorbing them. I didn’t feel especially sick or lethargic, and except for that one time when I was 26 and ate nothing but Halloween Candy for an entire weekend, I’m pretty sure I’ve never given myself scurvy.
I’m young and strong and have a hearty constitution so I didn’t realize my insides were going to pot, but when I started actually absorbing all the valuable stuff that was passing through my immaculately-appointed gullet, it was like a whole new ball game.
I’m still not where the docs want me to be on a few things –I have to take rx vitamin D, I heartily suggest everyone getting their D levels checked– but the difference is huge. Thus, I experienced first hand the importance of Valuable Food.
What gets me is this idea that to get good nutrition, it has to be grim and joyless. It’s not virtuous unless it’s miserable. What sort of screwed up Calvinist crazy talk is that (Just kidding Presbyterians! I heart you! Institutio Christianae Religionis 1536 por vida, my predestined homies!)?
I don’t care about virtue when it comes to food, I care about making sure my body has all the power it needs to be the All Singing All Dancing Miss Plumcake Ass Kicking Revue. I also care whether it tastes good, because if I don’t like it, I’m not going to do it and Brussels sprouts with bacon on it (broiled into delicious, delicious crispness) have a one-zillion percent chance of actually making it into my stomach while steamed penitential Sprouts of Grimness will absolutely not.
Just like your closet, you can supplement all you want with cheap and cheerful throwaway pieces, but at the core, your wardrobe (digestive or otherwise) should consist of good, strong, quality pieces that you love more than a boyfriend. Put what you want in addition to that in your body or on your hangers, but don’t neglect those core pieces.
And put bacon on it. It tastes better.