On the note of spiders: DON’T KILL THE SPIDERS DON’T. On the note of phones: I cannot sympathyse with you phone-owning folk.
I love spiders, I coexist with them very happily. Until they are on me. Once they are touching my skin, they must die. Otherwise, they can chill anywhere they like. We bros, me and the spiders. (It was just a handy example because something like 99% of people lose their shit at the sight of a spider but they’re such bros, man, they keep those fuckin mosquitoes away and you best believe I will move mountains to kill mosquitoes I hate those fuckers)
Like on the one hand, I’m a ‘fitblr’ (using the term in it’s ABSOLUTE loosest sense here) so in reality that pee would have been something like 99.9% water and 0.1% pee, but it’s a completely psychological thing with me— if there’s a spider in my bed and I don’t know it, then I don’t care. If there is a spider in my bed and I DO see it, then it’s threat level 500000 call a priest, call an ambulance, call the national guard. It’s the exact same spider, but it’s my knowing about it that creates the danger. Likewise, the fact that I know this thing has been in the toilet makes it the grossest thing ever, whereas if someone dropped it in the toilet, dried it off and gave it back to me without telling me, I’d never know and I’d be happy to keep using it!
Unfortunately, I DO know it’s been in my pee, and as it stands, it’s an unhappy phone for it. It tuned on, but swears up and down it has no battery (okay smart ass, if you have no battery then how are you ON?) and that it’s January 1st, 2000. The home button isn’t working, and the screen is doing an poltergeist-style flicker. I think my bb might be a goner.
"Real food" is a term I dislike almost as much as "real women," and for many of the same reasons…
Right this minute, there is someone going through chemotherapy shopping at your grocery store, buying popsicles and ice cream to help their sore mouth, and worrying what the cashier is going to think.
There is someone on hemodialysis buying white bread instead of whole wheat, trying to keep their phosphorus levels reasonable between appointments and hoping for the best.
There is a person attending intensive outpatient treatment for their eating disorder who has been challenged by their therapist to buy a Frappuccino.
There are dietitians picking up a dozen different candy bars to eat with their clients, who feel ashamed and guilty about enjoying them.
There is someone who just doesn’t have it in them to cook right now, and this frozen pizza and canned soup will keep them going.
There are people recovering from chronic dieting and semi-starvation who are buying chocolate and chips at their deprived body’s insistence.
All around us are people listening to what their bodies need and attempting to make the best possible choice within a context of overwhelming food pressure. All of their choices are valid, and every single one of these foods is “real.”
This is the best post I have seen in awhile. I pictured a faceless typical anime professor and you sitting on a desk in a schoolgirl outfit with ridiculous anime eyes being like, “Oh Senpai!” but in a strong Australian accent and it made my life.
lmao, no, more like Evan has to ask said professor a question regarding work stuff, steps ten centimetres into his office, starts [BREATHING HEAVILY] and has to be escorted to the health centre for evaluation. Or I’ll just start giggling hysterically and pass out from a lack of oxygen, and have to be taken to the health centre for evaluation. EVERY SCENARIO ENDS IN THE HEALTH CENTRE.
Once you get this, you have to say 5 nice things about yourself. And send it to ten of your favorite followers. You don't have to send it to anyone darling, if you don't want to- but I'd love to hear nice things about you because I love you.
Ooh! I always take WEEKS to answer these things because I’m really bad at thinking of five things about myself. Let alone five NICE things about myself! Okay let’s give this a shot:
I can see in the dark, and I think that’s pretty rad.
I have an eidetic memory. Saved my ass on many a test!
I will fight to the death for my friends and ask nothing in return, because their friendship is the greatest honour to me.
I am damn resourceful. I’ll survive a zombie apocalypse for sure.
I can say the alphabet in German better than I can say it in English!
I don’t know about anyone else, but I have really vivid dreams and my thought processes remain active in my dreams, so I get some degree of lucidity in my dreams and find them very easy to direct and remember.
Except for the period of time immediately after waking. I always wake very suddenly, like I’ve been physically yanked from the realm of sleep, and it takes a few minutes for the memories of what transpired in my sleep to return.
Anyway, the purpose of telling you that is to give you some background as to why I woke up feeling vaguely secretive and smug without really knowing why.
I got up, made my coffee and started up my computer to check my email, sipping at my coffee and my dream-amnesia feelings and trying to identify them. There was an email from my… I guess you’d call him my boss. He thanked me for all my help at staff training the other day, and said that the chairpeople were very impressed with me. That’s when the dream-amnesia lifted, and I identified that super-self-satisfied feeling— one of the new chairpeople is that professor I’ve had an inexplicable boner for for what feels like ages. Dream self is a pervert. You may extrapolate from that if you wish.
Basically, I just realized that at some point during the year, I’m going to embarrass the hell out of myself whilst trying not to be all anime-schoolgirl-googly-eyes. Great job Evan. You are a dumbshit.
Sugar alcohols are weird things that don’t get absorbed 100% by the body. But they don’t go completed undigested either. You could probably find a chart of how much is absorbed for each different kind of sugar alcohol but that’s too much effort haha.
YOU ARE TALKING TO THE QUEEN OF ANAL-RETENTIVENESS I RESEARCH ALL THE THINGS JUST FOR FUN.
I use erythritol, which has a super-low molecular weight— this causes it to digest differently from other sugar alcohols in that it’s rapidly absorbed by the small intestine, but not metabolized. Within about 24-72 hours, 80-90% is excreted in urine, 5% or so in faeces, and a really small amount (~2% in some studies) in expired air. An animal model post-mortem discovered the remaining erythritol not recovered from excretion being fermented in the large intestine by the gut flora.
So, from a dietary point of view erythritol doesn’t count. From a scientific perspective though, I’m really curious to know about the long-term effects on kidney function. I SMELL A SCIENCE PROJECT…
I’m really pleased with myself, and I refuse to apologize for it. I’m too hard on myself— my trainer always tells me so, and I’m finally starting to believe her. It’s time I allowed myself to feel good about the things I do and not feel dirty about it, like I’m doing something shameful.
The last time I made flax buns they were perfect. Today I made them using the exact same recipe, same ingredients, same method, and they are lumpy, crumby, pieces of SHIT.
I can’t wait for today to be over.
I just realized that I provided no context for that post, and it sounded like I was bitching about EVERYTHING going wrong after a cooking mishap— actually that was just the most immediate shitty thing that happened yesterday.
Incidentally, today was even worse. I had to get up an hour earlier to get two buses and a train to get to advisor training— my alarm frightened the hell out of me, and I bashed my head on the nightstand trying to get to it (for the record, my nightstands are made of sharp-edged mirrors). Then after dealing with the blood (I missed a bit that spurted on the wall and now it won’t come off) I was running late, so I decided to crack a hard boiled egg to eat as I ran to the first bus. You guessed it— raw egg.
Made my bus in time, and then couldn’t find my pass. Or my wallet. So I ran back home and tore the house apart. No wallet. ANYWHERE. Tore the house apart again. Still no wallet. Ran down to car. Not there. Called mum in hysterics. Not in her car. Threw things around and screamed in fury, picked up backpack to throw at wall… my wallet is sitting in the side pocket. Where I put it last night so that I wouldn’t have to go looking for it. IT WAS WITH ME WHILE I WAS ON THE DAMN BUS.
Swore like nothing you’ve ever heard before and bolted back down to the bus stop, narrowly missing a bus that would have taken me to my connecting bus. Finally, the next one comes— I’m now 35 minutes late. Because I’m late, I get the late commute crowd, so the bus is wall-to-wall people. Which, naturally, kicks my anxiety into overdrive, and I start to hyperventilate and overheat and ohgodthebarfs. I managed to hold it in until falling out of the bus door just in time to see my connecting bus sail past.
Do I even need to go on about the rest of the day?
Anyway, the day is almost over, and I’m hesitant to wonder how crappy tomorrow could possibly be. I’m going to spend the rest of it focusing on what will hopefully be a bright spot. Stay tuned!
Terms I did not realize were specifically Canadian:
Butter Tart (how do you people not have these delicious treats???)
A Bachelor Apartment
Toque (what do you people call these?)
Two-Four (a case of twenty-four beers, what do you call them?)
wtf other countries don’t have shit disturber?
We use bachelor apartment/flat in England
WHAT IS A SHIT DISTURBER!!!!!!!
I’m go sit in the corner, I’m so confused right now.
Wait…shit disturber and toboggan are Canadian? Granted I got them from my mom, but people have always understood me when I said them here in the States (and, having lived most of my life here I must confess that butter tart and toque were foreign to me until I was in my 20s).
Wait, all of this is foreign to me. Searching things up.
Shit disturber: trouble maker. Hmm. I somehow expected it to be a plunger LOL.
BachelorApartment: Literally a one room flat (kinda like a hotel room).
Serviette: Oh, this is the same in French. It’s just a napkin. That was unexciting.
Toboggan: It’s a sled???
Toque: A BEANIE?
Chesterfield, dick-all, girl guides, serviette, toboggan and washroom are all used in Australia, sorry to bust your bubble Canada :\
I actually did way better than I thought. Even on my worst day, carb-wise, I only got up to 60g and I’m not at all mad about that because a) it’s my first week and I’m still getting used to it, and b) I went out for dinner that night! I had really limited control over what food was available and I made the best of it— my percentages were pretty great!
I’m really happy with how this is going so far. I feel like I’m making positive progress.
NOOOO!!! Darling I a so sorry! D: I wish there was some way I could at least make your day a little better. You don’t deserve a shitty day such as this.
*squish* I ate the breakfast anyway.
Also, I just realized the clock I hung yesterday is off-centre. I am too tired to make more holes in the wall right now (but probably will in five minutes anyway because I am anal-retentive and obsessive like that).
I really really want to go to gym, but it’s leg day and I am NOT squatting without knowing 100% that my bowels are going to have my back on this. Mm, no, not happening.
Gosh all of these things you have been making sound so incredible!! :D And I’m happy that you are enjoying them and that they are delicious!
AND NOW YOU CAN ENJOY THE NOM NOMS TOO! (Mine didn’t look anything like that). There’s no recipe for the cream cheese frosting, but I just sort of winged it with cream cheese, vanilla extract and stevia drops. Needed butter!
I got up super-early so I could go to gym before the lecture.
I fell out of bed.
My breakfast flung itself on the filthy kitchen floor.
I got a text from my bank saying that my account is overdrawn.
I’ve spent the last hour in the bathroom with ~digestive issues instead of at the gym.
Still to come: Driving on Springvale Rd, finding a park at uni for the lecture, managing not to have explosive diarrhea during the lecture (something I was not concerned about until this morning), and then going on a fucking dinner date I have no interest in going on, because I’ve yet to learn the power of ‘no, I’m not interested in you, I have no obligation to preserve your feelings, your crush is NOT MY PROBLEM’.
Keto cinnamon biscuit-buns were a success and a fail. A success in that they were FUCKING DELICIOUS. A fail in that I didn’t calculate the carbs properly and ate three of them before realizing that was 31g down the hatch. I LACK DISCIPLINE. Also fail because three was too many and now I feel sick.
Also success though— the cream cheese topping. Not quite what I was going for, but a little more butter and actually whipping it (instead of being lazy with a spoon) and I might just have it.
I HAVE SOME ADVICE FOR FUTURE FAT BOMB: keto creme brulee. hnghnghgnhgngngn
omfg I so want to, but after I tasted the creme brulee at France Soir in South Yarra I kind of never want to eat it again unless it’s made by them. Because nothing I make will ever compare to that. It’s got ground-up unicorn or concentrated rainbows in it or something.