The truth is, I’m obsessed with being healthy.
Okay, maybe “obsessed” is a bit strong — If I was truly serious about my health, I probably wouldn’t be living in a smog|noise|light|stress-polluted major city like Toronto, really — but my interest in maintaining my physical well-being has definitely increased exponentially as each year goes by.
Y.A.G.D.A.M.1
I suppose this is par for the course. Taking care of your body could be like owning your first car in some ways. At the beginning you’re all in awe of this thing you have and what it can do, and before you know it you’re taking it for granted as you’re flying down the highway 50 kilometres over the speed limit with the stereo blasting Deep Purple’s Highway Star and the back seat filled with empty Doritos bags, slurpee cups, and cigarette butts.
After a while, though, you’re sitting on cracked upholstery begging it to “please, just start, I’m already late for work” as it’s drooling oil and antifreeze and god knows what else all over your driveway.
So before I start prematurely leaking fluids I’m getting more serious about what I do with my body as well as what I put into it.
Winning the Genetic Lottery
Being Asian, I’m totally aware that I won the youthfulness lottery. My body has basically maintained the same shape it was when I was in my earlier twenties, and for the most part I look younger than I really am. In the past, this made me complacent. If I wasn’t a vegetarian for most of my twenties I probably would have spent my days gulping back mugs of pure lard while eating twinkies sprinkled with chocolate-flavoured trans fats. Delish!
Even then I still did a lot of damage to myself, including maintaining a nearly pack-a-day habit for fifteen years as well as ingesting a lot of things I definitely would not want the Googlebot to index.
Now, I’m all mostly trying to be about the healthy.
Not Screwing With My Shit (not to be taking literally)
A big part of this commitment to not screwing with my shit involves eating better. I’ve been trying to spend more time eating cuisines that are considered healthy such as Japanese, Greek, and Italian. Heck, if nutritional scientists discovered that a diet consisting of twigs and leaves and steaming mugs of your own urine guaranteed you would live to be 150 in perfect health, I’d probably consider it.
No bathing in the blood of virgins like crafty old Elizabeth Bathory, however — one has to draw the line somewhere.
The point of this obscenely rambling post is to kick start a series of thoughts I’ve wanted to explore about eating healthy in the 21st century. I’m interested to talk about decisions I’ve made and experiments I’m trying out and I’m interested in what you’ve done (or are doing) to keep the gas in your tank sugar-free and high-octane.
And I vow that’s the last of the automobile metaphors you’ll see on this site.
1. Yet Another God Damn Automobile Metaphor ↩
