I’m thinking more about how my brain works and how it doesn’t. In my last post, I was talking about how this manifested when talking about my parents and how people were uncomfortable when I said they didn’t love me.
Side note: Yes, this early in the post! I am pretty sure I’m neuroatypical. Now. I never thought that about myself until talking about it with a friend six or seven months ago. Maybe more? Anyway, I knew I was a weirdo. I knew I didn’t think like other people did. I felt as if there was a manual on how to human that I had never gotten. It’s partly because of cultural issue, but it was also me feeling like I was broken. All the other kids would talk and laugh, seemingly knowing what each other was talking about. I had no clue, and no matter how much I studied the others, I did not gain a clue.
Side note two: My family was not at all immersed in American culture. I can’t remember a time we went to an American movie, for example. We did go to a fast food restaurant every Sunday after church, but that was probably a time thing. Best meal I had every week, too. Big Mac, fries, a diet pop, and a hot fudge sundae if it was McDonald’s. A chicken parm, fries, and a diet coke if it’s Burger King. Once in a while at Mickey D’s, I would have one of the ‘pies’ rather than the sundae, but not often. We went to Arby now and then, and it was meat and cheese. Very tasty, actually.
My mom was a health nut before it was a thing. We did not have sweets in the house, and she put me on my first diet when I was seven. Her goal was to get me married and having babies by the time I was wenty-five, and I wasn’t going to get it done if I was fat (in her eyes). My father is from farmer stock, and I have a mesomorph’s body. I am thick all the way around. Even when I was anorexic, I still had broad shoulders and thick thighs.
No matter how much I whittled away at my frame, I was never going to be a languid, slender, lissome person. And you know what? I don’t want to be. I like being strong. I like having muscles. I like feeling like I could beat the shit out of an attacker if I needed to. I have biceps that bulge as I practice my weapons forms. I have thighs and calves that could be used as tree trunks.
I love my body now. Plain and simple. I have my moments of insecurity (in fact, I’m in one now), but it’s more because of the intense societal pressuer to be thin. I do want to eat better, which includes cuoking, but let’s be real. I am not going to cook.
It’s important to be honest with oneself. I have said for decades that I should cook, and then I try to make something. I bought a crockpot so I could simmer. The result is good, but my sink is not working so clean up is not a go.
I used to bake, which I loved doing. This was when I could eat dairy and gluten. I made cookies, bars, and even a cheesecake. Zucchini bread, too, with chocolate chips. Or without. Ooooh, and banana bread.
Hm. I may have to go back to baking. It would have to be without dairy and gluten, but that isn’t a problem these days. There are so many substitutes for dairy and gluten, and they are tasty. Back when I was gluten-free, dairy-free, and sugar-free for four months in my twenties (for bronchial issues), we had tapioca and arrow root as the substitutes. It was a sad, sad time to be honest. There was a tofu-based sour cream that was horrific.
Dairy-wise, there was soy. That was it. And, I’m a bad Asian because I don’t like soy milk. Except with fried bread (when I could eat bread), hot and fluffy/crunchy. I still dream of having that again.
Side note: I have thought about having a day in which I eat everything Ican’t eat. I miss dumplings so much, I would eat a whole big bowl of them. Throw in one of the fried breads Iwas talking about, and I would be a happy camper.
I won’t do it, though. The last time I accidentally ate half a bowl of real macaroni (thinking I had bought the gluten-free version), I was shitting my brains out, off and on, for six hours. Half an hour on the toilet–half an hour off. Six hours. I was so dehydrated by the end, and my end was so sore.
The last time my parents were here, my father asked me more than once about my diet. He thought it was because of my medical crisis, but I have been eating this way since 2018 or 2019. I had been using Lactaid pills throuugh my forties, but my dairy problem was getting worse and worse. I don’t know howI figured out about the gluten, but I felt so much better once I cut it out. I asked my doctor how to test for celiac, and she told me that I would have to eat gluten every day for six weeks before I could be tested. They call it being glutened, by the way.
I internally recoiled in horror because the idea of doing that to myself made my whole body clench. I asked if that was really the only way to test for it, and it is. No thank you. I am not going to make myself sick because there’s no reason for it! I don’t need to verify it for any work reason, so I’ll just keep myself away from glute,n thank you very much. That’s easy enough for me to do.
That’s it for now. Again, not getting anywhere near what I wanted to talk about. Oh well.