Day 1

Hunger:
Most of my energy today has gone into food preparation. Really, I haven't been inordinately hungry at all because, although this initial three-day detox consists of eating simple carbs-- i.e., quickly digesting foods-- I've been able to continue feeding myself around the clock. My lunch today consisted of a makeshift guacamole, which I found surprisingly tasty, despite the fact that I couldn't eat it with chips and despite the other fact that I couldn't put salt in it. I also had a sizable bowl of mache with lemon juice and flaxseed oil. So far, this isn't really all that far off from what I usually eat. And then I got a weird afternoon snack of grilled grapefruit with ginger on top (this was a little odd but not too bad). And then for dinner, I made this thing that I thought I was gonna hate-- made from sweet potatoes and acorn squash (I don't like either of these particularly unless I can add a lot of salt to them-- and that's against the rules here) and a turnip (which I didn't have, so I substituted a couple baby Yukon golds). But then I got to load it up with garlic, cayenne, cumin, turmeric, coriander and paprika... and, I swear! I'd eat it even if I weren't on a crazy diet. Hell, I think it's a good option for a the obligatory Thanksgiving sweet potatoes which I resent having to make every year, though, I think I'd add salt if I were going to feed it to anyone else. And then I had another bowl of greens and flaxseed oil.

It's occurred to me as I've been standing in the kitchen all day that I've fallen into some serious single-girl eating habits. I rarely cook anything more often that once a week or so. My evening meal frequently consists of hummus, pitas, a carton of cherry tomatoes and a glass of wine. And the thing is, I eat in front of my computer screen and don't really spend much mental energy on what I'm consuming at all. When I was in my last long-term relationship, I cooked a lot-- and WE cooked a lot. And we grocery shopped together... and I feel like I just thought about food a whole lot more than I have since I moved to DC. It was more than a necessity; it was a part of our little two-person community. I do miss that part of being hooked up, I guess. And truly, food is important to me. More on this later.

Headache:
As I mentioned in my post earlier this morning, I awoke with a slight headache, which I attribute to my caffeine withdrawal. And this headache has swelled and blossomed into a real humdinger throughout the day. At some moments, it feels as though my brain is sloshing about in a bucket of water. It's dizzying and liquidy and thick. And then, at other moments, it's more of a shimmering sort of pain-- pointilistic, almost-- and it feels like it exists in a wide, airy halo OUTSIDE of my skull. It's so big, I swear. I napped briefly this afternoon, hoping to assuage my body's hew and cry for a friggin' cuppa joe... but, when my mom's phone call woke me up, I'm afraid I was barely coherent. And even now, this beast persists.

I had, in fact, been anticipating this headache. A couple of years ago, I found a lump the size of an olive in my right breast. After a visit to the radiologist, it was assessed to be just one of those cysts that a lot of women get, though its size seemed to impress the doctor, especially because I was only 28. The doctor told me that I could shrink the cyst significantly if I cut caffeine out completely. And so, I went through this business back then, too. Slowly, of course, first green tea, then black tea and finally coffee all found their ways back into my grocery cart. And so, here I am, suffering through this swimmy feeling all over again.

It has been suggested to me that perhaps this headache and, also, the rash that's prompted this little experiment, have occurred only because I've anticipated them. But I would venture to say that there's a big difference between hypochondria and being able to recognize the cues that our bodies give us. I mean, pain and physical discomfort have their uses. That's how our bodies tell us when we've done something that they don't like. And in the case of this headache, I know exactly what would make it go away but I'm choosing not to make myself that cup of coffee. And choosing anew with every minute. Ugh. Really, my being able to easily determine and attribute the causes of my weird symptoms-- instead of becoming increasing anxious and frustrated when I can't sleep due to my intensely itchy feet, for example-- is kinda the opposite of hypochondria. There is value to this sort of bodily awareness, I think. At the very least, I can feel proactive towards ridding myself of these annoyances.

Back on task:
So, yes, I've been meditating on food and its relation to self-- my self, in particular-- all day. In my own peculiar world view, food-- even moreso than sex-- is the bottom line for us all. And as such, I've come to see the consumption thereof as a deeply political act. Lucky for me, there are other folks out there with similar ideas...and some of those folks make documentaries! You didn't think I'd stop talking about movies altogether, now, did you?

Probably my favorite film that I saw during the Film Festival was a really-and-truly top-notch documentary called Milk in the Land: Ballad of an American Drink. The two directors, Ariana Gerstein and Monteith McCollum, have gotten a little notoriety in the past for another agricultural documentary called Hybrid, which is, I think, about corn. I don't know if I can get my hands on that film, but I certainly hope to. Part of what's so great about this film is that it's stylistically atypical of documentaries. They use quite a bit of creepy, foggy, time-lapse footage of cows and some other low-fi animation techniques to create an atmosphere that is positively Gothic.

I'm not sure I actually learned much from this film, which is, I suppose, intended to be informative, but I've also previously sought out most of the information conveyed here. The film opens with a guy discussing the ways in which cow's milk is generally detrimental to one's personal constitution-- he talks about all the cancers and diseases and weight problems and phlegm and skin problems and everything else that are more common amongst populations that consume large amounts of dairy. And I've heard these statistics so many times that I'm inclined to think they're true. But the quirky little zealot they have preaching this particular sermon is totally hilarious and really quite convincing. Well, sorta. There's not much that's gonna make me replace the cheese on my pizza with that pasty soycheese nonsense... or cut out icecream permanently.

There's also a lovely little segment in which they discuss the inherent racism in the promotion of milk as an All-American beverage. It's very well-documented that white folks are less likely to be lactose-intolerant than members of any other race on the planet. I, for one, have absolutely no issues digesting dairy. My Asian friend Brian, however, is quite proud of his puking-up-a-milkshake discovery of his intolerance. It's a gross story. Trust me. And I know that the public school system has always provided under-privileged students with free milk-- thus making them both sick and sleepy (sleepiness is a symptom of low-level food intolerance-- this happens to me every time I eat bread. Gluten, you're a bastard!). An interesting tidbit from the movie: in the early parts of the 20th century, most white babies were fed via bottles with these crazy long rubber tubes attached to the nipples. Bacteria would grow in the tubes and the babies would get sick and die... meanwhile, all the black babies, whose parents could afford milk, were breastfed and thusly, lived. Fascinating, eh? It is to me, anyway!

The movie then launches into a long section about organic and natural farming... and the ethics of food consumption. When I tell people that I do most of my shopping at organic grocery stores, they're frequently appalled that I would spend so much on food. Those with families say things like, "well, I have to buy so much for my kids that spending all that money is just a waste." And this sort of comment sickens my heart a little bit. There was one farmer interviewed in this film who relayed a story about a man approaching him at his farmer's market booth. The man asked the farmer how he could have the gall to charge so much for his eggs. The farmer answered, saying that he hoped to one day be able to achieve the same standard of living as his customers. And guys like him are just one of the beneficiaries of supporting sustainable agriculture. I mean, the effluvia that flow from big corporate farms? That stuff is systematically, unaccountably, destroying the ecosystems of their surrounds. And this film goes on to show plenty of creepy giant robots milking cows that see daylight maybe once a week-- if that! And this doesn't begin to address the fact that the hormone additives in all conventionally-produced animal products cause cancer, infertility, zits, and a host of other human ailments.

Oh, and there was also a rather elucidating segment in which the filmmakers explored these caves that were full, floor to ceiling, with bags and bags and bags of powdered milk that the government has bought off of dairy farms all around the country. And it's all surplus. Basically, they've created a system, now, in which cows lactate all year round (instead of just during calving season, as would be a normal expectation of your average cow body) and they produce about 20 times the milk that cows did 50 years ago... and plain and simple, all the humans in the world do not consume enough milk to keep up with the quantities that the dairies are producing. And so, we send out tax money to pay for the storage of this stuff.. and let's not forget that even powdered milk spoils. And sure, yeah, they ship some of it to other countries as part of assorted relief packages. But, let's also not forget that there aren't that many predominantly white third world countries. So, yeah, essentially, we're sending big pallets of gastrointestinal discomfort in the name of American generosity.

The one thing that I wished they'd talked a little more about is the corporatizing of organic farming. I mean, the big natural food chains like Wild Oats and Whole Foods are primarily supplied by big corporate farms, rather than smaller local operations. And according to my mom, my go-to girl for all things food-related, the Bush administration has taken great strides in lowering the standards for what is considered "organic." So, the jury's still out on whether or not the bigger organic facilities can operate both ethically (in terms of their environmental practices, their animal treatment practices, and their food-handling practices) and cheaply. But the whole thing makes me nervous. Once those sorts of companies get sufficient capital behind them, what's stopping them from bending the rules in favor of making more capital? I just wish Gerstein and McCollum had addressed this issue just a little... but then, the movie could have been 5 hours long and I would have been riveted.

In the end, eating is always going to be a question of values to me. I spend a lot of money on food because I do not want my money, even if it's less of it, to support an industry and companies that operate in opposition to my values. Incidentally, yet another contributor to this movie has a great segment in which she describes the reasons that people are more likely to spend their necessities budget on fancy clothes and houses than on fancy food because the former are visible to others while what we eat is not, in any way, equated with social status. Doesn't that just cut to the quick?

This stuff is so tremendously important to me-- moreso, even, than reaping the health-related benefits of eating primarily organic-- that I get a little hot under the collar when folks tell me that it's a waste. But truly, I think the concept of activistic consumerism is alive and well... and I hope to participate in it as much as I'm able. I'm not really the best audience for this movie because I walked in, already nodding my head in accordance with its sympathies. But I'm really really really hoping that it'll find its way to an audience that can really benefit from the truly fascinating exploration therein... and I hope that they'll also enjoy it for its stylish, funky presentation.

Oh dear god, how my head hurts.