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Day 21

Grapes of Wrath

The term ‘sweetheart’ actually came about in the 13th century from ‘swete hert’ which meant ‘fast beating heart’. The term gradually became associated with love as it was linked to someone who made your heart throb or beat faster. I am currently living off a whole range of goods that could happily lay claim to that ability.

 

So this morning started with a trip to the studios of an Australian television network to publicly share my heinous blood shot eyes and puff pastry-like jawline for the first time. My lovely mum’s comment was ‘It was great honey but you did look hung over’. Its strange doing a film like this because people are often telling me how tired, unwell or just plain ‘shithouse’ I look. The strange part is that deep down I am quietly happy with this decaying of the physical. You see, in an odd way, it is helping to highlight the impacts of a high sugar diet. And lets face it, a good old thrashing of the ego never hurt anyone. The interview however has yet to be put on the show’s website and I really hope it isn’t because of the subject matter or perhaps that it went against the promotion of a popular ratings winner about large and great Australian cakes being baked off against each other. I will happily and literally eat humble pie (5 teaspoons) if it does appear tomorrow.

Breakfast was a bowl of my gluten free, fat free, George Michael inspired “Freedom” muesli and some large heavings of low fat yoghurt ( combined 10 teaspoons).  I then threw back a ‘Real Juice Crunchy Apple’ fruit box chaser with 6 teaspoons.  Thats 16 teaspoons at breakfast in case you missed that sugarpalooza.

I thought the television studio might have had some sort of nibbles or breakfast sugary treats waiting for me, but sadly not. I went into the interview on the downslope of my Sugar Kosciuszko but knew that a banana muffin with its 8 teaspoons was waiting in the coffee shop outside and would be my chairlift to the summit. (I totally had to look up the spelling of that mountain, surely no-one can spell that from their own brain?).

Apparently it wasn’t enough to just stand atop of that peak though, so I rammed in the flag, Edmund Hilary style, when I poured a Paul’s Just Natural Banana Honey Milk down my throat hole. 6 teaspoons of the sweetest snow and I was all man again. For about 45 minutes.

I had a long drive home and some errands to do on the way so I stopped at the service station and filled up the car with petrol and me with a Vita Soy Chocolate liquid breakfast drink (4 teaspoons). Never before in the history of befores have the words ‘soy’ and ‘chocolate’ been associated with the word ‘breakfast’.

At home I did some research and learnt something new. I ate exactly 20 grapes, which according to my maths equalled 2 teaspoons of sugar (fructose). There is .4 of a gram of sugar in a single grape. Due to the fibre in the fruit, I really struggled to eat them all. I learnt once more about the magnificence of nature. She has provided the perfect casing that houses the right amount of sugar, nutrient and fibre which tells my body that I am full and have had enough. What we less hairy monkeys with opposing thumbs do is take all the sugar from the grape (or other fruit), throw away the fibre, put it into a glass container and sell it as a ‘healthy’ product. The fibre plays a key role that we neglect in our juices. I guess it doesn’t preserve too well on the shelves though huh?

Now I certainly don’t want to vilify fruit on this journey. It is a tremendous, luxurious offering from the Gods. But in days gone by it was seasonal and we couldn’t eat the sweet ones all year round. Today we can, and we do, plus all the other fructose that I am discovering hidden in our foods. Its a giant fructose party and as a population, we’re the sick looking ones in the corner behind the DJ, all fruct up.

My final 4 teaspoons came in a tiny glass of Ribena Blackcurrant cordial. That stuff is strong and may well have taken a thin layer off my oesophagus. It needed a new coat anyway.

Dinner was a lovely warm quinoa salad prepared by my lady, it had soothing kale and carrot mixed through it

I am completely stuffed and ready to collapse, which is a shame as it is officially my 21st today (day not age). If I was going to make a speech, it would be to acknowledge my beautiful stomach. I am treating it like shit at the moment and yet it continues to stick by me and to me. I feel like we’re in this together through ‘increasingly’ thick and ‘hopefully one day again soon’ thin.

Happy 21st and another bloody 40.

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