‘Health,’ or, as I like to call it, ‘Mindfuck Perpetuale.’
Eat unprocessed, whole, foods! It’s so simple! Just do it!
Shut. The fuck. Up. Oooooo lookit me and all these healthy things I eat all the time! Oooo look how easy it is! Ooooo if only you weren’t so lazy and stupid, you could totally do this, and be just like me! SHUT UP.
Aaaand we’re back to good ole One Step. (That’s the method I use to prevent myself from turning into an actual couch.)
I don’t doubt that these people really do feel it’s easy to make healthy food all the time. I don’t doubt that once they start making better options accessible, and doing the few extra things to ensure that those options remain a constant, that their routine feels normal and uncomplicated. What annoys the everloving crap out of me is the unbridled presumption and pompousness in their delivery. Why are they entitled to it? Eating healthy is not a news flash for anyone. Eating whole, unprocessed, foods, is, also, not a news flash. People who make the choice to eat ‘poorly’ usually know exactly what they are choosing to eat, and touting your betterness all over the place doesn’t make anyone want to be more like you. Even if eating healthy was a news flash, then acting like a pompous jerk about your eating habits is more cruel than helpful to someone who has not been educated accordingly about nutrition and health.
The same is true in reverse, though. When I first started losing weight (I was doing many other, more important, things at the same time – like managing my sugars better, exercising to increase muscle tone, and learning what each food choice meant for my digestion and overall nutritional needs), I received the same sort of pompous, disdainful, criticism that hardcore dieters like to distribute freely. Even though I always waited till asked, or until I could add info to a conversation, the exchange always devolved into something shitty. I was frequently told (by people who did not know me well enough to make any of these assumptions) that I looked unhealthy, that I was starving myself (uhm no, never, not ever), that I didn’t need so much exercise (I maxed out at an hour a day, for six days a week – now I’m closer to 30 minutes, but will occasionally go back to my hour/day routine), that I should stop taking diet pills (I never took diet pills, ever), that I didn’t know all sorts of things about THESE PARTICULAR FOODS (insert random items like shrimp, whole grains, foods with vitamin K, almonds, popcorn, cheese, melons, red meat, etc, etc, etc), and that carbs were healthy for me; I was going to give myself all sorts of health issues without them (the carb comments were mostly with regard to pastas and bread, of any kind, and also, not eating three portions of whole grains per meal doesn’t mean I’m on a fucking low carb diet, you yeast addled douchelord).
I’m generally over the bullshit presumption. I know that the self-righteous and pompous attitude comes from a mix of being pleased that things are working and being scared that things will all of a sudden stop working. Welcome to my fucking life, assholes. Decorating your self criticisms and fears with chirpy, faux freedom, type acclamations, and then projecting them onto all the hapless schmucks around you, is a sucky, shitty, thing to do. If you are so unbelievably obtuse and asinine as to conclude that your success with your health/weight/size/whatever-the-fuck-bullshit-code-name-you’ve-given-your-self-esteem is purely because you have found The Way and By Sweet Saving Jesus I Will Truly Be Immortal If I Can Just Make Everyone Be Like Me, then you can fuck yourself sideways on the back of your non gmo, locally sourced, pampered with massages from Japanese trained exotic tanukis, turkey burgers.
In summation. Now that my heart rate has slowed to something less chest pulverizing.
Good food is amazing. Junk food is fun. What falls into either category changes. We like to believe that, as our race’s history lengthens, we make better choices and discover more immutable truths. I am not convinced that this is how evolution works, nor is it how we, as a species, work. Sharing is great, but shaming someone, even unintentionally passive aggressively, just makes food ugly. The ‘you should do this because I read this article and now I have better skin’ approach is vastly different from the ‘that’s really cool; have you seen this piece by so-and-so? What do you think of her research?’ or even the ‘well for me, when I tried this…’ response. Disagreeing and discussion is fantastic, but shame (in this instance) is unnecessary and dysfunctional. And food should never be ugly. It should be delicious and beautiful and honor the body and soul for which it was intended, whether it’s a bacon wrapped filet and a slice of torte, a kale salad with Alaskan salmon, mango, and evoo, or a platter of creamy gorgonzola gnocchi with a side of fried mushrooms.
Now excuse me whilst I inhale some St. Andre’s and spicy dark chocolate with my red wine.
*This might be the first actual rant I’ve posted in my blog. Which strikes me as a little off. Or, at least, misleading. I rant a lot, and easily. It’s almost like additional cardio for me. This particular one was written several months ago, when I was much more frustrated about how people chose to address me regarding health and nutritional choices. Things have improved since then…or maybe, I’ve somehow learned to ignore the fuckery. In either case, I expect this will piss a lot of people off. I hope it doesn’t; my frustrations with the way people condescend to me their food and exercise choices are real and frequent, and I am sure in my often failed attempts to tell people why I choose to eat the way I do, I have, also, disgusted many. I do believe that constructive advice should never be disallowed, but I much more fervently believe in not being a raving, frothing, fucktastrophe of a turd splatter, when possible. I should also add that I am very fortunate to have a ridiculous number of vastly supportive and articulate foodie friends in my immediate coterie, all of whom are relentless with their brilliance.