Why is it that everything that “they” tell me I should incorporate into a healthier diet gives me gas? And not just noisy gas, and not just painful gas, and not just the occasional silent offensive seeping of gas. No, aside from whole grains, every time I try to eat something “good for me,” I end up with all of the above only far louder, more painful, and more severely noxious than regular gas.
Maybe this health food and my body just need more of a “getting to know you” period before I can expect the gas to pass. That is, not be so outrageous. I think my body and hummus have grown to respect each other, even if they still wouldn’t invite each other to go to the mall or something. But beans? Yeah, I know everyone has that problem with beans, but seriously, even just a few in a minestrone soup or over a salad? I mean, it’s not like I’m sitting on my porch with a wooden spoon eating scoop after scoop out of a can. And I wonder if it’s a particular kind of bean that my digestive tract is offended by. Or if it has a general prejudice against all members of beankind.
Yesterday I had a sweet potato with my lunch. I blew up like a balloon. Every time I moved, I felt it coming, and it would rattle the walls when it did. I now know that even though I can get a sweet potato at the grocery store for less than a quarter doesn’t mean I should. Also, I haven’t quite mastered the art of cooking potatoes unless I’m boiling and smashing. So I’m thinking I should just save the yams for turkey day.
The best was doing pilates while in a state of extreme gassiness. And as much as I like to make a good impression when other people are around, including close friends, I do still get a giggle from good old fashion fart noises. Even if they’re my own. Especially when I’m alone in the house, doing the “jackknife,” butt in the air, feet over my head, trying to focus on my breathing.
I have no idea why I felt the need to blog this particular section of my afternoon yesterday, and not the lovely little dinner I shared with Natasha on the floor of her box-filled apartment, or the fact that I probably should have helped my husband fall asleep last night and/or wake up on time this morning. Or even how I feel bad that I don’t do as much work at work as I do reading blogs or checking my email. I am just fascinated by what my body does in reaction to various stimulations, and I’m baffled specifically by why it reacts in this particular way to foods that are supposed to provide it with the best nourishment.