I inherited my grandpa Willie Bird's sweet tooth. Or maybe he bequeathed it to me from heaven about the time I got sick (coincidence?). That man had a snickers bar hid in every nook and cranny in the house. Anyway - mama likes her sweets. Not so much candy - you can have your candy, your slurpees, etc - what I want is cake. Cold chocolate cake with just a little bit of icing and a glass of milk is my weakness. I don't care if my thighs rub together so much that the friction causes fire - I want my damn cake.
Sorry. I get a little worked up. Every night I start jonesing for my nightly sweet. Bread, cookies, and brownies will work in a pinch. Especially those pink frosted sugar cookies. If things get desperate, a handful of chocolate chips will keep me nice.
This is my next vice to attack - but do I need to? yup. I laid down on the chiropractor's table today and said, 'fix me.' That means my neck. My neck loves to go into full spasm a few times a year and that means to the chiro I go. I know, I know - I need to go every week to prevent it from happening in the first place. Last week he did an xray and said, 'that's the worst neck I've ever seen.' I asked if I would get a medal. The curve of my cervical spine is suppose to be a positive 43 degrees and well, I'm at a neg 16. Laying propped up in bed most of the day isn't exactly helping.
Anyway - sorry about that - he asked me what I've been eating. He knows about my chronic problems, and him having seen so many desperate people with chronic problems that western medicine can't touch, he first asked if I had any fight left in me. Dramatic but so true. There are so many out there that just can't bring themselves (physically but mostly emotionally) to another doc to look down on them and tell them they can't find anything wrong (but here's some more pain pills to get you out of my hair). I would go through 6 month cycles of it, I noticed. I would go wait months for an appt for the most special of the specialists, get up my nerve and go. How many did I leave completely destroyed? Too many. Most of them. I would always save the tears for the minute I walked away from them though, I didn't want to give their 'psychological issue' diagnosis any more juice.
ANYWAY (i warned you about the ADD), he asked about my nutrition. I quickly told him about the 8 months I spent with no wheat, dairy, and well, anything beside meat and veggies and a litle fruit, and how it didn't help. That's always my first defense when people try to tell me to down my cake - I did eat healthy and I wasn't cured. I know, I know - there is so much more to it and the quack who put me on that diet was well, interesting. But that is no excuse - I can eat better. I'm doing pretty well - but I need to stop hating vegetables. It put's my pet to shame. And the sugar - oh man, one day there is going to be some huge scientific discovery about how so many illnesses can be traced back to the stuff. Until then, though. It's night time - I had best be mose-ing downstairs.
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