Mutiny

I finished another round of whole30, this time it was easier and since it didn’t end on a holiday like last time I didn’t go all crazy and eat everything in sight.

But, despite my stellar eating habits, my blood pressure at an all time low 100/69 (!) my toe staged a mutiny. Or rather, the toe joint.

Gout. I always thought gout had something to do with your stomach. I heard it from time to time because both my uncle and grandma had it. (Suddenly grandpas cooking and bread baking all makes more sense) Love you Gram, thanks for the gout and high cholesterol, special memories of you!

Now I can no longer eat what I wasn’t eating plus some stuff I was. Some of my favorites, in fact, like steak and grilled hamburgers and shrimp and roast beef and gravy. AND ALL GRAIN BASED ALCOHOL. (give me all the potato vodkas)

Although I feel sad about these things, I do not want to eat them. That toe was a motherfucker let me tell you (strong language is required, sorry!). You know how in a cartoon when a character hits its thumb with a hammer it grows ten sizes and visibly throbs? That was my toe. I couldn’t sleep for all the throbbing. I couldn’t walk I couldn’t stand or dance or hike.

I can stand to lose beef and gravy and crispy fried coconut shrimp but please, dear god, let me dance. And tromp through the woods. I’ll die otherwise.

On the bright side, this might finally be the motivation that’s been missing for my entire life to stick to healthier eating habits.

I feel like I am one hundred and four since being diagnosed. Not physically, eating healthy has its perks. Tonight I exercised and did yoga and showered and prepped his and her lunches while watching hockey. My energy has never been better, especially for an old lady with gout.

It could be worse. It could have been a heart attack or stroke or cancer. It is, after all, just a toe.

I’ve decided I’d rather cut it off than never dance again. I mean, I doubt they’ll give me that option, I’m just saying if they DID, good bye toe, it’s been real. (Up until that last bit you asshole)

Maybe it’ll hear my threats and shape up.

Until then, I’ll be drinking wine, eating cherries and making every chicken recipe in existence.

Nic