I Eat Alone.
My pandemic days are filled now – but not with anything in “real” life.
Since starting on my LEAP plan, I have to think – a lot – about food. The way it works is: I eat a very specific set of foods – and nothing else. Unfortunately this limits me, mostly, to making my own food, which is not my forte.
So I wake up unenthused.
First thing, I take my thyroid medication. I’m not allowed to eat for an hour after taking it, so I don’t even bother looking at my meticulously planned menu until an hour has passed. Then I find: I am allowed to eat oatmeal with goat’s milk! This is exciting, especially if I get a side of peaches.
Later, I am allowed a slab of ham, with cheddar cheese and maybe grapes. For dinner, Bill might broil tilapia (one of only three kinds of fish I can eat) and bake a sweet potato for me.
He makes something else for himself and the family. I eat alone. Even if I have planned a food that everyone can eat, I always eat alone. No one has offered to do this with me – not for one day, not even for one minute. My partner in life – who is delighted to cook for me – offers support from a distance.
Some days, though, he does tell me he’s proud of me – like I’m a toddler who learned to ride a bike. He’s just not going to ride with me.
One night Bill made tilapia for all of us – and it was delicious. The rest of the family got mac-n-cheese and green beans; I did not.
Since I can’t eat black pepper, my piece of fish had only salt. Bill peppered the rest of the fish. Why, you ask, would he pepper the other pieces of fish? I have no idea. The leftovers – which I would have loved – were made to rot in the fridge, while I nibbled on lettuce and almonds the next day.
I have plenty of snacks planned for every day. Thus far, I haven’t eaten any of the snacks. I am never, ever, ever hungry.
I also don’t crave anything. One would think that eating bland, whole foods would cause mad cravings for chocolate and jalapeños – but quite the opposite happens. Eating bland, whole foods makes me want to eat bland, whole foods.
Meanwhile, I am trying to walk 20 miles a week to keep some kind of pace with my ridiculous goal of 500 miles in six months. So while the food doesn’t make me leap from my bed, I do spend most of the day plotting when to walk – and how, given the weather.
The poor dog walked more in one week than in the prior month, but he seems to be enjoying himself. We are getting fit together. (To be fair, he is very young and does not require any additional fitness.)
On some days, I walk two miles and it takes every ounce of energy I have. Sometimes I hop on a bicycle afterward to get more mileage. On other days, I walk four miles and I wonder why I didn’t go out earlier. Most days, I wish it were warmer and drier so I could bike more and walk less.
Either way, I am moving. I am eating well. I am doing all the things I probably should have been doing since this pandemic started.
But honestly, I don’t really want to do any of it. I would just rather do this than die. So that’s what I’m doing.