Confessions of My So-Called Organic Life

Hey Pill Fans,

Thanks for all the great feedback to my last post. It's great to know that so many of you have also jumped the shark. I'm in good company. Just ate a late dinner and I'm basking in the glory that I offered my family something somewhat healthy - a salad topped with chicken strips (and a big, fat loaf of Italian bread). Look, it's a start. I'm not a great cook and I struggle with the whole all-natural organic hoopla. I'll be honest, I would trade a limb for a Wendy's Junior Cheeseburger Deluxe. I'm not joking. Well, here's more of my thoughts on that. Enjoy your evening pill poppers. Wait, that sounds bad.

Confessions of My So Called Organic Life

By Sue Tabb

Last Sunday morning, I was reading the newspaper, drinking bird-friendly coffee and eating certified organic fruit when I realized just how delicious locally grown cage-free eggs really tasted. My hormone-free milk sat in a glass, right next to my Ginkgo Biloba pill. I was just planning my trip to pick up some naturally raised beef for dinner when – snap – I woke up.

It was all a dream.

Or was it? I looked under my kitchen counter to find all natural, chemical-free cleaning products I had purchased the day before. I peered into my refrigerator to find the Organic milk, cheese sticks and celery that had also made it home. Was this my house? What was happening?

Okay, I haven’t made it to the person who is reading the paper in my dream but I am practically a stranger to my family. They are still reeling from the fact that I bought anything that people who are even minimally concerned about their health would buy. Where were the Cheetos? The soda? The frozen mozzarella sticks? It was a darn-near mutiny.

I can’t explain it myself except that a recent health crisis has made me rethink some of my food choices. I’m sure that it’s just a phase but in the meantime, I am learning that almost nothing we eat has any nutritional fortitude whatsoever, and if it does, it cost double its chemical-filled counterpart. This can be a problem when most people have only half the money they used to, mostly because they used their last $100 to buy the “Smash-me Bernie” Madoff doll that is designed to be pummeled with a hammer.

But it’s not just the cost that worries me; it’s all the latest jargon – all natural, naturally raised, gluten free, locally grown, free range, certified humane raised, prebiotic, probiotic – I need a dictionary, or at the least to have Gwyneth Paltrow come over and explain it all. Isn’t she the one on some sort of a macrobiotic diet? I think that’s the one where you eat nothing with sugar or calories or fat or carbs but you can inject Botox into your face and get chemical peels.

So I’m wondering if any of it really makes a difference. I know my kids think I’ve gone nuts. And they don’t even know what organic really means. I tested one of my daughters on the hot food vocabulary of the day, just to see if she really appreciates the pains mommy is taking to make the Mediterranean Cod Kale with Sunflower Seeds. Anyway, I asked her to define the following terms and here were her answers:

All natural: “Things made out of leaves and stuff from the earth.”
Organic: “Something that doesn’t have a lot of carbs; for healthy freaks I think.”
Gluten-free – “When food doesn’t have that weird ingredient that a lot of people are allergic too.”
Vegan: “Oh, I think those are people who say ‘peace out’ a lot and are into all-natural things.”

Good thing I don’t have a lot of money saved for private school, huh? In reality, I’m not much better but I’m trying to educate myself by taking very scientific quizzes on web sites like quizfarm. com where they rate you on a scale of “health freak” to “very big fatso.” Look it up, this is not a joke. Just don’t ask where I fell on the spectrum because you might be jealous to know I’m a “semi health freak.” That’s right; read it and weep Gwyneth.

This whole thing is borderline absurd since most people who really know me understand that I can’t possibly sustain this level of wholesomeness for more than a few more weeks…or minutes. The fact is I just love sugar and processed food too darn much. And sometimes, when I’m feeling really reckless, I even go to McDonalds and get a cheeseburger and a small fry. There I said it. Don’t judge me.

So to sum it all up, I’ll leave you with this “ponderism” I received in an email recently:

“Aren’t health nuts going to feel stupid some day, lying around the hospital, dying of nothing?”

Amen, sister!