First of all, my husband was appalled that I asked him to spell kryptonite for me. As I've mentioned I'm a terrible speller and he's the rock star of spelling - but seriously - he's the comic book geek in the family (and well, so maybe are my kids - at least the older one) why the hell should I know how to spell the made up shit that oogs out Superman? (yes I do know it's more than oogs out, but still). I do know that the Green Lantern can't handle the color yellow - I think I should totally get some points for that.
Anyway. I think I've just determined that I seriously can not eat salads. They are like a gateway drug for me. Whenever I eat a salad it does some sort of magic thing to my band - it sort of removes it completely. It was immediately after eating a salad (a huge one) that I first tried pizza (the one and only time I have since I got the band) and I ate three frickin' pieces of regular crust Papa John's pizza - after a big salad with chicken on top. What the fuck? Then another time I had a salad followed by fajitas. Yes that word was plural. There are days or times of every day that I struggle getting cottage cheese or yogurt down and then I eat a salad and I could eat a small horse - shit I could probably eat a large horse. I think ever since the pizza incident I've sort of suspected this was true but I've tried to keep it hush hush even from myself (I do a lot of that).
Self, I'd say, it's good to eat salads. You are eating too much protein and not enough green stuff. Go... have a salad. If there was a small little tiny compartment of me thinking... (while rubbing my hands together and grinning evilly) hmmmmm maybe then, I'll get to eat something else interesting that I'm not normally able to eat... well.. that's besides the point, right? So - part of my subconscious avoids salads for just this reason and part of my subconsious says - salads are good salads are good salads are good. everyone's doing it. go on, it'll be alright.
But I'm here to say publicly... I. Can. Not. Eat. Salads.
Today I ate a salad at lunch. It wasn't planned, just sort of happened that way. It was a yummy Cobb salad with Gorgonzola which is so how they should always be made. And since then... Oh my holy fucking God. Mother Mary full of Grace and all that shit. (Okay I'm not catholic and I really hope I'm not offending anyone but Jesus Christ!) I had the egg substitute and sauteed onions I'd brought for lunch in its nice 1/2 cup container, some chocolate covered soy nuts.... right there is way more than I would normally eat... oh wait.. and a small piece of a french baguette with butter... AND it took a whole hell of a lot to stop eating at that point.... But then I got home. (hanging head in shame) I've had three, count them three pieces of raisin bread, toasted with butter. This is the first time I've even tried a piece of bread since surgery, (not counting the baguette this afternoon which was really the first time) there's no way I could eat it normally. An entire slab of eel (which is my very favorite food and I've not had any sushi as I'm afraid of the rice. But just eel.... I remembered I had some in my freezer - SCORE! Some Oreos. A few bites of Jackson's mac n' cheese (not normally something I could eat). That could be it. AND I could totally still eat. It's like I'm on vacation or something - I have NO restriction at all after eating a salad and clearly my little pea of a brain thinks - Party On folks! I'm full - but it's normal (or old normal) full. Like my band hasn't said a god damned thing. I'm fairly sure it's taken the afternoon off.
So.. to repeat. No fucking salads for me. Ever. If I never eat anything green again - I will survive.