“Let’s do lunch….”
Lunch. Dinner. Brunch.
I’ve got a love-hate relationship with the lot of them since I quit drinking and did a diet makeover.
Let’s start with the good, though. When I used to enjoy going out to eat, it was because I knew I could order a tall glass of conscious-changer and let the poison do the communicating for me as it coursed through my veins. Under my cognitively altered outlook of the time, I reasoned this was doubly good because I also knew I could blame any inconsiderate words, broken chairs, or broken jaws alike on the firewater. (“It’s all it’s fault! Now pour me another!”) The means justify the ends, right? After that ceased to make logical sense as a lifestyle choice anymore, I started making changes… and eventually…. started “doing lunch” and “dinner” again. This time with people and without pinot. Having gained a sudden interest in others’ worlds than my own (a maddening place to remain for too long), this has become the focal point of dining outside of my domicile. I like that. It’s a relaxed atmosphere, your company is being satiated, and if they aren’t douchey – they won’t spend the whole time on their phones (these are the only kinds of people I’ll make dates with).
And what do I hate about it?
The food.
I feel like anything I order ever is lathered in MSG. Most of the day, I fruit graze, so dinner’s my bulkiest meal. Veges, spinach, tomato juice – all boiled into a stew with mushrooms. And all fresh. Don’t get me wrong, I used to adore my Campbell’s cup o’ sodium in a mystery solvent. But when I decided to start eating fresher on the regular, something happened over time. Every time I’ve tried to “go back”, the next morning, I awake feeling like I’ve been decimated by the A.M. Amtrack. But, why? I’ve even ordered the “healthy/fresh” stuff before – specifically requiring nothing on it. And still, I can feel the light slippery greasiness of it. And if I thought that were any kindofa placebo effect or bias, my concerns of paranoia are squashed at the crack of dawn when my mirror has supplanted my image with the character from “Hitch” suffering a shellfish allergy.
And something else funny happens too.
Because I’m enjoying the conversation while restauranting, I don’t eat much – and I get the rest to go.
Then, even though I didn’t really “enjoy” it, I end up going home and polishing it off, along with an eff ton of other things in my fridge I don’t need to be nomming. This happened to me last night. I was in a stupor. I’d fully planned to come home and do some writing, but this happened instead… and I was 100% mindless. Watching sitcoms. Not knowing what day it was. Not knowing how to English. WTF was going on?
Suddenly I remembered a doc I’d watched during one of my smarter nights.
And in that documentary, they explained how in every single science experiment they do to study obesity, they feed mice a steady MSG diet to make ‘em obese. I mean, that’s not even the experiment itself. They just need them porky and they know MSG will do it faster than anything else ’cause it’s among those addictive food components. Then I remembered this other related thing I’d watched about how cravings make you fckking stupid; when you’re singularly focused on the object of your addiction, it shuts off the other important parts of your brain. Funny thing is – even being aware of this, I was powerless over this horrible effect. Conundrum. Because I don’t wanna miss out on a chance for a good convo (which most people only make time for if there’s eating or coffee involved), so I’m not going to strike outside dining from my life forever.
So, what’s the solution?
Well, there are at least two.
First, suggest coffee instead. It’s a great drug-supplement to alcohol that fuels convo.
Also, it means I can eat what I actually enjoy later.
And the second one’s so obvious it’s painful.
Especially since it’s pretty much the same as my “don’t buy turkish figs at the store ’cause then you won’t eat ’em at home later ” rule. And (as you might’ve guessed), it goes something like this: don’t get the shitty MSG slathered leftovers to go anymore. ’cause then you won’t ‘eat em at home. And wake up looking like you still drink.
#duh