It came out of nowhere. One moment I was fine, happily chatting away and stuffing my face with cheese and mini dulce de leche Polkatots cupcakes at Blogger Prom, and the next, my body was being ravaged by a food blogger’s worst nightmare – nausea. I spent all day Thursday and most of Friday, feeling light-headed and repulsed by the thought of food and/or alcohol. Finally, after scouring the Westside for refrigerated Canada Dry Ginger Ale (the only acceptable kind) during my lunch break on Friday, I started to feel better.
So swell in fact, that I was able to rally for a gluttonous excursion to Breed Street that night for huarache con pollo, my first horchata (a very successful experience) and the best churros I’ve ever had in my lifetime of ingesting them at (and only at) Disneyland.
Everything was going great until the “cleanse” salad I made myself for lunch the following day gave me a slight case of food poisoning.
It was at this juncture that I decided my body was trying to tell my something.
“Hey, you! The girl with the big mouth, slutty credit card and engorged stomach! Stop with all the rich food and wine! You live in LA, for goodness sakes! The body is supposed to be a temple -- not a depository for bacon! In the words of Joey from “Full House,” “CUT. IT. OUT!”
So I did.
I turned down the invitation to go to Sapp Noodle Coffee Shop on Tuesday. I said “Heck no, we won’t go!” when “the Gastronomer” demanded that me and my stomach meet her at the West Hollywood grand opening of Joe’s Pizza that same night. I shied away from an evening of fun at El Cholo with friends courtesy of my still unsteady stomach that wasn’t yet ready for margaritas and blue corn enchiladas. And I sat alone at my dining room table last night, eating a single serving organic (which we know now is fairly meaningless) frozen spinach pizza and huge bowl of steamed broccoli whilst a cadre of my blogger friends feasted on eight delectable plates prepared by "Top Chef" contestant Michael Voltaggio at Bread Bar.
Today will be the sixth day of my restaurant/alcohol hiatus, and I’m feeling great. When I slipped on my dress this morning, it was noticeably looser around my stomach/butt area (I’m guessing due to my decreased sodium intake), my head is clearer and I feel the inexplicable urge to skip barefoot across the park near my office.
The only problem is that I’ve been bored out of mind this week. (Which may explain my desire to go skipping.)
While I kept myself busy with my usual Bar Method classes on Monday and Wednesday nights, finally got caught up on episodes of “Top Chef Masters,” and watched an hour-long photo slide show of my friend Hank’s three week trip to the Congo, I was noticeably aware of all the things I was missing out on in the name of my good health.
It didn’t feel good.
As of now, I plan to continue my alcohol purge until the San Antonio Winery Boutique Beer Tasting on Sunday, August 9th, and will try to save my “restaurant splurges” for things truly worthy of the indulgence (and subsequent physical repercussions), but I am ready to get back on the horse again.
Just as soon as I finish this bag of carrot sticks.