Pride is Overrated: Of Muffins & Poisoning

There’s probably no greater equalizer of mankind than food poisoning. Everyone can remember That One Meal that left them a gut-churning shell of themselves for 24 to 48 hours.

I had my Lesson in Humility yesterday. I couldn’t even run up to the store for Pepto-Bismol because of the unpredictability of it all. I spent about 25 of 36 hours asleep.

It’s hard not to accept your humanity when some evil meal of shellfish is waging war upon you for an ungodly length of time.

But I believe these things are good. Food poisoning knows no age or class or race. It’s indiscriminate. So’s bad luck, adversity, broken hearts, and broke-ass syndrome.

Life’s tough. Everyone’s got favourite quotes on it. Mine sometimes come from totally lame-ass people on the quoteworthy scale. It’s always so much more impressive if you can say you’re quoting Kahlil Gibran or Gandhi or Marcus Aurelius or Plato.

But, no. Denis Leary says, “Life’s tough. Wear a helmet.”

I rolled over and died for 24 hours, a shivering, puking mess. Ahh, food poisoning, robber of pride.

When you realize that every person on the planet, billionaire or not, has a vested interest in the quality of their stool, it’s hard not to accept how alike we really are.

Not really the soaring eloquence of Obama and his brotherhood of man, I know, but you get what I’m saying.

Anyhow, it’s the day after. I’m considering an overdose on blueberry muffins now. I just baked these.* See the bottom of this posting for how I adapted the recipe to be healthier. Yet tastier AND moister. Because that’s how I rock.

I feel absolutely awesome today though. Alert, a little stiff from all the writhing. But good. (Psst! I’m officially down 65 pounds. That’s 65 of 115 to my ideal weight.)

I find it’s sometimes easy to get a little full of myself. Like, oh, I’m so amusing. When you entertain yourself, you run that risk of becoming an arrogant, pretentious twat. Me, I’m not. I’m very self-deprecating and genuine, but I have my weeks where things go a little well and I get in my mode where I start thinking I’m indestructible or oh-so-accomplished, or whatever.

I’m not saying food poisoning is my idea of a psychic booster club or anything, but aside from the pride factor, it also makes you realize how little food you can really get by on, and what being “ill” feels like. It’s a 24-hour reminder of why we do what we do to become healthy people.

Obviously I could probably apply the lessons I’ve learned a little bit better, as I’ve just eaten my third muffin, but, hey. Knowing is half the battle.

I ate nothing and drank only 300 calories. God forbid I should ever cut my calories by more than 100 – 200 a day, though. Food is quality of life.

But another good thing to remember after being sick sometimes is that all we truly need in this world is a comfortable blanket, a place to lie down, and a little food. Everything else is gold.

I’m stuck now having to work what I think will be six days in a row. I’d rather not. We’ll see. One of the first times I’ve been interested in seeing the Super Bowl and now I have to work. Well, that’ll teach me to eat the shellfish, then.

This whole posting probably falls under too much information, but, hey. You get a muffin recipe out of it, don’t you?

Enjoy your Sunday, people. I shall be toiling as a lowly peon. Just another cog in the wheel. Sometimes, though, that’s exactly how I like it.


* I added 1/3 cup each of yogurt beverage (ie Yop/DanActive) and ground flax, and skipped the streusel, plus added 1 teaspoon baking soda, and doubled the berries. I use strawberry, blueberry, or fieldberry yogurt, and because it’s sweetened, I cut a couple tablespoons of sugar out too. The batter tastes fruity tho and has that yogurty zip to it. Sometimes I’ll put a teaspoon of cinnamon, like today. So, there you go.