April 24, 2014

The Changing Tastes of Age

I recently "celebrated" my 46th birthday.

It used to be I would look forward to dinner out followed by a group of us taking advantage of what the city has to offer.  A little dancing, maybe some greasy drive-thru, and bed in the early morning.  This year, I was happy with some wine, a pepperoni pizza, and a "homemade" Duncan Heinz chocolate cake with butter cream icing from the can.  I refer to this dinner as my "execution dinner" - the dinner I would order should I be executed the next day.  In addition to this debauchery, I would have been happy to slump into bed at the decent hour of 9pm but was able to keep myself awake watching the last of our DVD rentals (ending at the ridiculously late hour of 11pm) .
I used to be proud of my
marshmellow eating
ability.  Girls wanted
to be me and boys wanted
to be with me!
Not only did I enjoy the fat, salt, and sugar that was my birthday dinner, I also enjoyed the rumblings of a nine-month old food baby as it kicked and squirmed inside of me. I hissed like a surly cat on a fence whenever my man-friend would attempt to pat my food baby as I made desperate attempts to draw breath struggling to sit on the couch in an upright position (all the while under the torture of severe heat and food sweats).  Happy birthday to me!

It wasn't that long ago I could suck back an entire large pepperoni pizza without any consequence but I didn't get passed 4 slices this year. It was only yesterday that I used to be able to drink most of a bottle of wine and still have the energy to continue (not that I'm proud of this, I'm just sayin'), but 2 glasses was enough to slide me into a red wine coma.  Better still, I could eat cake any time, any place, without the aftermath of an increased heart rate and sugar shakes. I felt like a gluttonous lightweight having to store the rest for later (or at least for breakfast the next day)...could it be my years of healthy eating are taking their toll on my ability to enjoy the euphoria of junk food? Or is it my aging internal workings that are becoming more hard to get along with? Could my tastes or accommodation of tastes be changing as I get older?

Whatever the answer, I'm now dealing with lengthy decision of what to wear to work since most of my pants don't do up at the moment. In addition, I'm enjoying the sense of true relaxation as I rest my front bum on the computer tray as I type. In short, this eating behaviour isn't worth it anymore. It's not worth the sweat, laboured breath, and belly distension (but I'm sure, like childbirth, I will forget the pain and agony and do it again soon - thus triggering the series of events that will lead me to write another post on the detriments of gluttony)......

.....isn't that the definition of insane?

K

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