I’m wondering why I bothered to Google “do skinny girls eat pizza?” Of course, I know the answer is yes.
Terry and Heather Dubrow of RHOC fame are out with a new book on interval fasting. Authophagy is all the rage on social. It’s, like, touching a nerve for me, though. Why? Cause, I tried it and tested it out twenty years ago.
Here’s a snippet from the annals of my youth:
The day the Korean lady behind the deli counter I frequented for lunch — small brown rice — barked with angst to eat more, followed by a lashing in her native tongue, I’m pretty sure, is when it registered that autophagia had taken on a life of its own. Indeed, it had gone beyond its intended cell cleanse to way-of-life. My pants at the time fit me like I was the hanger in a boutique. Another clue: The boy I dated told me I looked like a Holocaust victim. Then again, he wasn’t very nice. One friend threatened to call my Mom if I didn’t get my shit together. We were on a street corner outside of an uptown Urban Outfitters when she staged her unexpected intervention. Well, that was effective; it raised my neck hair a bit. My sister, not one to mince words, had a catchphrase greeting during those years — eat a pizza. I never listened. Because I never thought I was too skinny! Couldn’t see it. And, yeah, I ate slices all across the borough of Manhattan…one and done, followed by exercise. It was an unhealthy chapter.
Piece of advice to all of you would-be fasters: There’s a fine line once your fasting takes hold and a newfound euphoria emerges — loads of energy and shiny skin — and you wonder why eat at all, especially when the appetite has been eradicated from your physiology — or so it seems. Proceed with caution.
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A news headline made me pause the other day: El Chapo Needs A Hug. Come again? A.M. talk radio had some fun with it. I like the radio when I drive on New England back roads; scene after scene of beauty. El Chapo needs wifey to make her jail visit. Conjugal reminds me of conjugation. Something is yoking together in either iteration. And the hills keep rolling on.
On the topic of the Federal Justice System, I’ve been reading about criminality and contemplating the ancestral burden it places on generations of would-be hardened criminals. Genetics plays its role in creating criminals, not to be outdone by family values, or lack thereof. And, mental illness — no surprise. The take away: If your Daddy loves you for stealing and conniving and nothing else, well … your cards are set out for you. I read Fox Butterworth’s My Father’s House. Dang! Lots to learn. White crime is pervasive and I’m not talking about the Mafia. It’s an insane tale of a criminal family that reads as fiction, but isn’t. Trump should get his hands on this data and leave the refugees at the border out of the national conversation.