Drinking black coffee made me feel like a martyr-some one who forgoes the pleasures of a creamy, frothy sweet coffee with the choicest of the toppings…
As a kid I faked an allergy to eggs to avoid eating them.I hated the way the yolk stinks.
I’ve stopped eating simple carbs.
The object of my dieting was never weight loss or weight gain.
Thats what it was.
And external control.
In a life that is largely run on schedules and timetables set by someone else, this is one small area where I can still wield power-exert some control-retain some sanity.
I’ve eschewed rice and roti and embraced eggs and beans.
I still don’t like them…eggs, but I’m certainly not allergic to them.
Recently, after a short snorkelling session in the glassy waters of the cook islands, I found out that I’m allergic to sun…polymorphic light reaction is the medical terminology, but the results are large scale scaling of the skin…I turn reptilian, and itchy, and oozing red.
I switched over to chai recently.
It’s tiring being a martyr.
My chai is light-just one teabag, very sweet-two heaps of sugar and one third milky.
The chai is an exception to my diet, but I do retain some control over it.Never more than a cup a day.
Some habits die hard.
I’m normalizing slowly, I think.
I’m normalizing…or thats what my intentions are.