Abnormally Normal

Have you ever found yourself sizing up another person's grocery selection at the grocery store?

Sure you have. We stand in line like cattle on a farm, waiting our turn at the end of the stall to have our purchases processed. While there, we have little to do but stand and look around, and occasionally flick our hair (those that have flickable hair, or any hair at all for that matter). We gaze around at the lights and sights. Sometimes we graze, sorting through the subliminally-planted, spontaneous purchase type foods marketed by deliberately and maliciously placing last in the store that come in the form of high calorie snack foods that taste fantastic.

And we size up other people and their purchases.

Hypothetical scenario. A cart loaded up with vegetables, fruits, and other non-processed items, primarily organic or otherwise "natural". What's the first thing we think of when we see that?

My money is on one word: "healthnut"

That, or "whackjob".

Normal people don't eat only fruits and vegetables. After all, how can they live if they don't get their protein? How do they expect to maintain muscle mass and over all health if they aren't eating protein? How "abnormal" of them to abstain from eating animal proteins and packaged, processed foods!

That gut check is still present weeks after my dietary switch to a plant-based lifestyle commenced. Why do I know this? Two words: "Raw Lasagna".

The Italian food lover in me reeled with disgust, appalled at the food travesty. Until recently, I'd never even heard of such a culinary fiasco! How on earth could one say that this was "lasagna"? The audacity! Absurd! How abnormal!

Everyone knows that real lasagna is pound-upon-pound of meat and dairy layered over white-flour noodles! I am sure that's been exactly how it's made, as handed-down generation after generation from the very first, and surely thoroughly-cooked, lasagna in ancient Italy or where ever the first lasagna dates back to.

In fact, it most certainly needs to come in a glass or tinfoil pan, and be cooked on high heat in the oven until the cheese bubbles and the top noodles become almost crispy from over-baking. That's what a normal lasagna is.

Hotdogs and hamburgers, the good old American food, are the same thing. Treated fairly, the animal meat and by-products that are ground up, formed into patties or tubes and char-grilled for all to enjoy were never meant to be fashioned out of brown rice, soy or mushroom blends! Preposterous! They're meant to have mooed, (or perhaps, as more recent news shows, at least even whinnied) at some point. Everyone knows that! My Uncle Rick knew that!

Uncle Rick was a die-hard red meat lover who proved to me that Man can live on a diet of red meat, no veggies and be cool. He drove a Corvette. He always had the latest electronic gadgets. He gave all of his nieces and nephews the best Christmas gifts, treated us all equally; he was the epitome of the cool uncle. The 70's bachelor living his life in the fast lane and without a care in the world.

Ironically, I related to Rick. I felt very akin to him, with similar personality characteristics as well as physical traits. I envied his record collection, his cars, his toys. I also related to his struggles. Whenever I started to exercise, I would think of the story he told me about the first time he took up running.

Rick had bought himself all the gear, as usual. He had the expensive matching two piece Adidas jogging suit. He had brand new white runners. I think he even got a fancy water bottle before water bottles were even a mainstream accessory. He was so cool he set trends.

He went out for a morning jog, made it a record breaking number of kilometers away and but then realized there was no way to make it home alive. He was so beaten, exhausted and sore he called my grandmother for a ride home.

Rick is the reason I prefer the treadmill.

I remember asking Rick one time why he didn't eat vegetables. He said he didn't like them, they made him sick to his stomach. Instead, he ate one of two things:

A) Two burgers, made of ground beef and hand-pressed into patties, grilled on a gas barbeque, or broiled in the oven, then served up on two fresh-from-the-bakery white flour kaiser buns.

or

B) Sirloin steak, grilled medium well and served with two indulgent slices of fresh, white bread slathered in butter or sweet dinner rolls dressed the same.

Either meal was accompanied with a Morton salt shaker and usually ended with brownies, cake or another sweet desert. Whichever Rick had for lunch was alternated for dinner. Every single day.

There was no variance. There was no interruption or hiatus. I don't think I ever saw Rick even eat a piece of fruit or so much as a vegetable by way of pizza. He simply didn't eat anything else. He was just that cool, like James Dean and his cigarette.

Rick was overweight, diabetic and unhealthy. But man, he was cool.

Much like James Dean, he also died way before his time should have run out, passing away from heart failure in his 50's. No surprise. Yet, we mourned him.

"How could such a sweet young man pass away so young?", the old aunties would weep.

Yet, it should have been no surprise to any of us. In fact, one could argue we were all guilty of murder, or at least manslaughter, for knowingly allowing a man to inflict hazardous damage upon his own health to his detriment. After all, everyone knows you need to get a well balanced meal. If Rick had been been a coke-head, alcoholic or even anorexic, there most certainly would have been an intervention. So why wasn't there?

Because it's normal, right? Mainstream media features men huddled around barbeques, gripping beers and telling war stories, anticipating the luxury of cooked flesh that was about to be served. How many of those commercials feature a man taking a big bite of a brown-rice-and-mushroom vegetarian burger?

Veggie burgers don't sell out stadiums at half-time for the Superbowl. They're for weird people. They're abnormal.

The question is, according to who?

As I journey into the land of Healthy Living, I find myself asking that question alot, and yet it seems to become more and more apparent to me that it's a matter of who you ask. Naturally, big businesses want you to buy more. Hence, they make everything look better, and shiny and new and exciting. Marketing 101. I find myself trusting the opinions of raw food, whole food and vegan diet experts that seem to become more and more frequently featured in the documentaries I find on food.


According to most of them, and by "them" I mean the experts on Food Matters, Hungry for Change, Fat Sick & Nearly Dead, Vegucated, Fresh, Farmageddon, Food Inc, it simply isn't healthy to ingest the majority of the packaged, processed foods that are put on shelves and heavily marketed to us.

But the biggest proof, for me, has been my own body.

Six full weeks into non-dairy, non-animal food consumption, with roughly 60% raw, and 40% cooked, I feel incredible. Everything I was led to believe about switching to organic, wholesome foods has come true. Now, I certainly don't have superpowers. I'm not getting younger. I don't look like The Rock, yet, but I'm healthy(ier).

My body chemistry has changed. I can tell a difference in my own sweat and, subsequently, body odour, at the end of the day or post-workout. I don't have near the stink that I would have had prior when I was consuming meat and dairy. There is definitely a difference in me post-vegan.

My skin is different. Fewer pimples, not nearly the oily sensation around my nose, chin and forehead that I noticed before, and acne that I had on my upper arms my entire life is clearing up.

I have more energy. Less lethargic, and less prone to desiring sleep, and I'm functioning on less and less coffee than ever before in my adult life.

I feel sharper. I don't feel as groggy, and don't have that haze or fog I need to lift or clear each morning. I don't need my afternoon jolt of coffee or sugar to get around the 3PM wall, and my mental state feels more alert.

My breathing has changed. I am no longer perpetually stuffed up. I don't have to clear my throat. I don't have inexplicable phlegm, no post nasal drip, zero mucus-y feeling in my ears, throat or sinuses. I feel like when I take a deep breath, I can feel the air in every pocket of my lungs. There is no fight to get oxygenated.

I recover faster. Previously, the days following a workout were intense. Muscles ached. That's how I knew I'd worked out hard. I'm now pushing my body farther than I've ever expected I could. And the next day, I'm back in the gym, with minimal familiar pain.

According to mainstream media, all of the above are abnormal symptoms and to feel normal, I could have headed to a drugstore and found something to take care of it.

According to the experts on aforementioned documentaries, I just need to eat responsibly and healthy.

So who is right? Who is telling the truth? The truth lies in reality.

The reality is, now I know what it is to feel healthy; I feel normal. For the first time in my life, I feel as if I am a well-oiled machine and in tip top shape right off the factory line. Agreeably, I certainly have a long way to go. I'm know I've not actually plateaued yet, but that is the best part. To think that in just six weeks I have achieved more in healing and self-preservation through simply changing my food sources than years of medication and off-the-shelf-over-the-counter prescriptions could ever, or have ever, done. Simply by eating right; by eating abnormally. According to the commercials they blast us with it's not normal to desire kale, but I do. It's not normal to want salad for dinner or vegetables for a snack or prunes and dates instead of candy bars. But I do.

I wish I could have helped my Uncle Rick embrace abnormal eating. I wish I could have helped him feel as normal as the mainstream diet he was led to believe should have made him feel. His chest pain leading up to his final hospital visit wasn't normal.


What is normal is to feel alive. To feel as healthy as nature intended. And if eating right, and honoring my own health by staying away from heavily marketed, tasty-but-deadly normal foods is the only way for me to stay this way, then I'm ok with it. I'll stick to being abnormally normal.


Abnormally yours,
FatGuy

Go Fork Yourself.

"Oh, look! Fat guy on a health kick."

That's what I think they're saying; that's what the look on their faces says to me.

Who's "they", you ask? The over-prepared, self-righteous make-up wearing divas that strut the Organic produce aisle in their designer boots; the very ones at my preferred market-style, vegan-friendly grocery store who are, coincidentally, annoying. They are self-indulgent, judgmental and over-dressed. I mean, really, who needs to spend more time getting ready to go than they actually spend shopping?

Naturally, I garner some looks from those types with my grey, cotton urban-camo hoodie and matching-shade grey track pants, a grey Fruit-of-the-Loom t-shirt and beige Timberlands. I certainly don't look white-collar, but then again I am not there to do anything but get my goods and go. 

Maybe it's just odd to see a six foot tall, 285-lb biker-like ogre picking through the organic sweet potatoes and searching for the nicest organic lemons, among other things.

Perhaps when I am down to 210 and rocking the shiny Adidas sweat suit I'll fit in a little better. Insert eye roll here.

The funny part about the "health nerds" in the "good section" of the market is that you really can't even begin to guess who is truly healthy, from the outside looking in. I recently watched another documentary, by the fine folks that did Forks over Knives called The Engine 2 Diet, which featured a number of real-life participants who went through a life changing re-education about whole and healthy foods, led by diet creator Rip Esselstyn.

Enter rich insurance broker and family. The stereotypical All-American couple. Good looking, thin, well-dressed couple, big house, great backyard, gorgeous kitchen... the neighbors you want to know; the people you want to be. The wife, a vegetarian of 19 years, was even surprised at the changes led by Rip, and the kids were, allegedly, happy with the results of the dietary recommendations that spanned from wholesome panini sandwiches to fresh vegetable pizza to dairy-free ice-cream concocted of simply near-frozen banana.

Chances are I'd have exchanged scowls with Mrs. Vegetarian at the grocery store, in my aisle, in a momentary showdown just before we raced each other to grab the last bunch of organic kale. Chances are we'd have completely misjudged each other: I'd have considered her presumptuous, and she'd have expected I knew nothing of what I was perusing. Both of us expecting the other was in the wrong place.

Ironically, we should both be there, among other people, and quite feasibly that is the only aisle we should be shopping in. After all, why do we ever need to shop in any other aisle, especially the ones that contain boxed, canned or bagged foods?

It occurred to me while shopping the other day just how colorful, and tempting and tantalizing, and misleading and disgusting the other 90% of the store was, as I walked through Any_Typical_Big_Chain_Grocer_Name_Here the other day to take advantage of their sales on organic apples and pears. I asked myself,"What on Earth happened that we are completely and utterly dependent upon processed foods? And why haven't we caught on as a whole society yet?"

Is convenience really that convenient?

I am taken back to my childhood and reading the Laura Ingalls-Wilder Little House On The Prairie series of books where her future husband, Almanzo Wilder, was describing the excitement of life on his family farm where treats included having maple syrup poured on snow to create an instant hard-candy. Even better, the mention of having a hot potato kept in his pocket that he would eat once it cooled. What about the talk of the fresh pies, and preserves, and winter stores kept to make it through the tough, long, cold winters of off-season farming?

Nowadays, if we want something we just go buy it and unwrap it.

I am all for human progress and technological advances, but what happened to our ability to be self-sufficient, sustaining, creative, independent, productive and capable of feeding ourselves without commercial dependency?

And more importantly, what happened to our knowledge of how to be the aforementioned individuals? Is that in itself another example of the breakdown of the basic fundamental family unit? Surely we are more responsible than that!

I consider myself of above-average intelligence. I would also describe myself as a "fairly good" cook who is "capable" in the kitchen. I thought that surely the transition to vegan, at a dietary level, would be simply a matter of swapping ingredients out. Trade offs. Substitutions. I was pretty well wrong.

I have had to relearn the basics, like a new language. Cooking temperatures and times, textures and blending, seasoning and spicing, it's all new. Results are not what I'd like, but I've certainly developed some fantastic products which I expect to patent, such as super concrete, mega bricks and something I call Revenge cookies which are only to be served to people you truly, truly dislike. For good reason.

One of my first creations was a "replica" (and by "replica" I mean something that looks, tastes and smells nothing like the original intended product) of Vegan Dad's home-made sausage. Let's just say I think I found a secret recipe for space-grade bolts that NASA should consider for future interplanetary station construction.

On the other hand, I have also concocted some excellent soups, a consumable pseudo-burger based on a brown-rice-and-chickpea burger recipe, a lasagna based on the Engine2 Diet veggie lasagna recipe, and a handful of other snacks, entrees and other meals.

Naturally, the better the ingredients, the better the meal, thus I find myself in the organic sections of the big chain stores more often, and anticipating the interaction with a local farm once CSA and co-op farming slots open up in the season changes. In the mean time, I use the best produce I can find.

The toughest part about finding the good produce is knowing what that truly is and means. Before that part, you need to know what the difference is. If you asked me a year ago to purchase ALL organics, I'd have laughed. 

"It all comes from the same place," I'd tell you, continuing my theory with," they're just re-branding to get you to pay more."

I am sure that in some cases, I was right. Then again, if the organic stuff is legit, you can taste, touch, see, smell and yes, even hear the difference. But to know the difference you have to be willing to try, and trust is tough to earn in a poor economy. Who wants to "try" a $9 bag of oranges, when you can pick up the same thing in a $5 bag. Surely I can't be the first person to have been so suspicious and I definitely won't be the last.

We simply don't know what we're talking about any more. If we did, we'd change our ways. Until then, though, we just follow the herd through the field of boxed items, past the check outs to our cars and back to our kitchens. Thankfully, I've broke ranks.

So far, I am just a few days shy of completing Month One of my lifestyle change.

I can see the difference in how my clothes fit. Others have commented on my weightloss, mainly in my face and neck (probably because I'm dressed almost all the time). I have only weighed myself once. I have never quantified results on this blog, as promised at the beginning simply because this is my journey, not anyone else's, and everyone will have their own results.

That said, I encourage everyone in my life to begin the same change. Although I've generally been amicably teased and mocked, I am patient. I understand every person must experience their own "pop", or their own "Aha!" moment. Sometimes it takes some coaching. Mine did. Had I not watched Vegucated or Hungry for Change I might still be where I was six months ago.

Now, instead of preaching I simply refer friends to documentaries I've seen. The most recent, and most likely the easiest to digest first run through (no pun intended) is Forks Over Knives. Unlike documentaries I've seen prior, it doesn't blatantly hammer anti-meat and anti-dairy visuals and instead eases you through it in the same way they recommend you transition: Add more of the good, and the bad will phase out naturally as you crave it less. The message is simple: Replace junk foods and carnivore-centric items with plant-based items. 

Chopsticks aside, if you can put down your knife and consume most of your meal with a fork it's probably ideal. Some exceptions apply.

But don't take my word for it, Fork yourself here. 

In the mean time, I'm headed back to the grocers for more organics carrots to juice and hopefully to grab one more bunch of kale before it's all gone. Perhaps if I see Mrs. Vegetarian, I'll get her opinion on the wheatgrass, but I'll be sure to put my old band back on my ring finger so she doesn't think I'm flirting.

With tine regards,
FatGuy


 

Appsolutely Vital.

Four years ago, I was roughly 330 lbs. I was living in a small, one-bedroom condo in Toronto, Ontario. It was nice. I had a loving, faithful wife. She was nice. I had a new compact, fuel efficient commuter car. It was nice. I had a mid-management job in a fancy office building where I managed a team of people. It was nice.

I was nice. Yet, I was also miserable. 

Ten months earlier I worked for a Florida-based company and in just 25 minutes, I could be on Clearwater Beach to share a bucket of fresh crabs and watch the sun set with some of the greatest friends I've ever made, by my side. That was nice. Yet, I was miserable.

I spent six and a half years traveling back and forth to Tampa, FL on business. I never golfed. I never went tanning. I didn't rollerblade, or bicycle, or even go for walks. I spent most of my time either working or at home in the air conditioning. The times I had a rental place with a pool, I enjoyed the solitude and privacy of my backyard. That was nice. I was miserable.

The simple fact is, I don't think I've ever been truly happy in my adult life. It's not that I don't like who I am. I'm very content. I'm unhappy with what I am.

Just over fifteen years ago I was a pack-a-day smoker. I drank soda by the half-gallon. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted. I was in relatively decent shape because I had a physical job. I literally walked miles a night, and got fairly lean but I would never claim I was "fit". Within a short year or two that changed. I earned a promotion, got a desk job, and never thought twice about a change in diet. Life was all about convenience foods. I left "the healthiest shape" of my life far behind and went on a spiraling decent.

I try to remind myself of that now: I didn't gain the weight over night, so I certainly won't lose it over night.

Had I told myself fifteen years ago that some day I would regret that lifestyle, and told myself that a healthy future meant green juice, jogging and a non-meat/non-dairy lifestyle, I'd have laughed myself into a straight-jacket. Ironically, the insanity part wasn't the idea of healthly lifestyle, it should have been the idea of ignoring my own health. Some where between 22 and 35 I lost myself in a world of high calorie, heavily processed, nutrient absent foods and it showed in every aspect of my world: physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. 

Watching Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead identified that for me when they introduced the character Phil Staples, the 429-lb truck driver. I'd never seen him before, but I knew him. I recognized the place he was living in, proverbially. There's not much lighting there.

See, when you watch a movie and there's a little fat kid in it, he's always the slow, chunky one eating the junk food and trying to figure out what all his friends are running from. Same for the overweight girl in the movies; she's never the one that can expect the limo to roll up with Richard Gere hanging out the sunroof, calling out for Lady Vivian. There's something about being fat that is universally recognized as lazy, sloth-like, undesirable, goofy and in some cases, even mentally slower than everyone else. Like a permanent life-state of being picked last for the baseball team. Constantly.

Apparently, you can even chalk your lack of career success up to your lack of physical health now too. As if having to look at your swollen belly in the mirror every time you get out of the shower isn't bad enough, you have to be discriminated against financially by your boss too.

The hard part is fixing it. You can't just go in and have it all removed. It's not like the crappy little apartment where you can just put in your notice and do the midnight move. It's not the lousy job with the jerk boss you can simply walk out on. It's not the junker jalopy you can park under a bridge in the old rundown part of the downtown area and set fire to it, then bribe two old homeless guys with a bottle of Old Crow whiskey to say someone matching your ex-wife's description was running away from the area. No, being fat and unhealthy is like none of those things.It's more like scaling Mount Everest in a tank-top, speedo and flip flops during the Off-season. You could try, but you'll be lucky if it doesn't kill you, or at least turn you back defeated without the proper preparation and training. To train and prepare you need the right tools and the right support.

Todd Lange tweeted to me today. That made me happy. He was asking me for my email, because apparently I get a bonus app from him for 10k101 because I've mentioned him in posts and my YouTube videos. I'm deeply grateful, but more importantly I'm happy. Not for the freebie (Love that though, Todd!), but because of what I can do now that I have never been able to do before. I'm going on my forth week of jogging training, and nothing says "Yes We Can" like completing a segment of the 5k101 program, that Todd developed.

Todd Lange saved a life. His app (and free podcasts) has helped me learn how to do the impossible. Four weeks from now, provided I am not delayed by illness or injury, I should be able to run five kilometers uninterrupted  That is something I've never been able to say, never mind actually do. That makes me happy.

In the present moment of my life I have a mediocre middle-management job. I have an aging car. I'm in the middle of a long, drawn out divorce. I'm not where I want to be, doing what I want to be, making what I want to be or being what I want to be, but, I'm happy; I'm happy because I now see what I can do when I put my mind to it, prepare and move towards a goal that's not about chasing a dream. 

In the coming years, I'll be running 5k and maybe even 10k races. I'll be enrolled in an MBA program. I'll be a homeowner again. I'll be self-aware. I'll be a better man.

I'll get there soon.

Finally, I am not running from something; I'm running towards something. And that is absolutely fantastic. But, I'm happy. And that is absolutely the most important thing in life.

With any luck, this life change to a healthy new beginning means I'll live longer to enjoy it too!

With appreciation,
FatGuy

All Roads Lead to Roam...

The mid-month mark has passed since I began a full-fledged run towards Green-er pastures, and started my trek into the land of Vegans. It's been a roller coaster of physical, mental and emotional highs and lows. Lack of understanding and lack of preparation certainly contributed. I think the odds were stacked against me due to my prior perception as to what exactly being vegetarian actually meant, and more-so what being vegan really stood for.

At this point, I am vegetarian while observing an almost-exclusively vegan diet. I say "almost" because there are certain suspiciously non-vegan products which I have not yet eliminated from my daily intake primarily because they were purchased, already open and needing consumption from prior to my dietary change. Products such as Skippy or Jif brand peanut butter, for example. My first step has basically to begin to purchase vegan-only products for future consumption. This causes the same shift to happen in your purchasing that will eventually happen in the consumption - add the good to filter out the bad naturally.

Certainly there has been a sense of loss. Some of my favorite foods are no longer "available" to me. The toughest mental challenge is accepting that I do not want them, but could eat them if I really wanted to. I simply choose 'Not' to have them. Then again, with pizza being my numero uno guilty pleasure I certainly have no choice but to abandon aforementioned favorites; adult onset lactose intolerance decided that for me. However, nothing says I couldn't choose to just eat some; I would just be choosing to suffer as well.

The mental drain of constantly fighting to choose what to eat, and what not to, is most likely the number one challenge. Trying to scramble to figure out something to eat at the end of a work day was proof as to why the prepared food industry thrives despite the nutrient vacant quality of 99% of the products out there. Simply put, its "too much work" to be healthy, for most people. Planning ahead is key.

Then there are the physical withdrawal symptoms. Beyond the caffeine reaction, I've had a sugar decompression sickness that left me with headaches, waves of nausea, bloating and a number of other unmentionables none of which I want to endure. So the big question is,"Why am I experiencing withdrawl symptoms if there was nothing wrong with mainstream food I had in my diet?"

Let's just say there is nothing wrong with it, in which case, I am certainly questionable for going against the flow of general society, and nothing proves that more than the reactions one gets when making the statement,"I'm (going) vegan."

The reactions are almost priceless.

See, I've decided to go against the grain, to speak both proverbially and literally. It's almost like Dorothy choosing to follow the Red Brick road.

In reality, maybe Dorothy would have been better to follow that route? Who decided she really needed to go see the Wizard in Oz? That road was littered with risk and fraught with danger. What if the red brick road went to the GO station, and she could have hopped an L-Train to Oz? We'll never know. 

See, the way I figure it, I can choose whatever road I want in life; this really is just a race against myself. The question is merely which route do I want to take. None are predetermined. No route is guaranteed. The destination is final - but we won't argue about where that is on this blog, that's a different site.

What I can tell for sure, just two weeks in, is that I feel considerably better already. I have more energy. I am sleeping better. I enjoy the (new) foods I am eating. And if I truly detoxed leaving the mainstream foods, did I really just spend 35+ years on a dark path?

Now, there is no proof that I can tangibly put down on paper. What I can say is that a particular farmer featured in the documentary Fresh explained it in a way that makes absolutely the most sense to me. Joel Salatin, a homesteader in TN, was featured indepth. His farming style is simple: re-enact the migratory patterns of livestock in the wild and let nature take its course. Everything is a cyclical.

Salatin grazes his livestock in sections on the farm, cycling them from one grazing paddock to the next. Each day they basically move on to greener pastures. Just like they would have prior to domestication, or if left unattended on a large field (and by that I mean, not stacked side by side in a mud pit as is seen on typicaly revenue-driven mass meat farms). After the cows have moved on, the chickens are brought in. Their natural pecking and fertilization happens. And so continues the cycle.

The cows are fed naturally occurring greens. They move on, leaving behind pure, organic fertilizer whch is sorted and processed by the chickens. What's left after the chickens is easily broke down and reabsorbed back into the soil to continue again.

Rinse. Repeat.

Now, I'm not a farming guru by any means (Although I did run a mean streak on Farmville!) but I have to tell you that Salatin's process makes sense. After all, I'm pretty sure with just a minor effort I'll find this migrating-grazing technique is pretty standard going right back to Laura Ingalls' day's On The Banks Of Plum Creek, and beyond. It Just. Makes. Sense. It's all about the Roaming capabilities of your livestock, never mind your cell phone. I can't even BEGIN to explain the part about population percentage-to-area ratios.

Compare that to the stall-kept, hormone-fed, over-stimulated milk and beef cattle that are processed for mainstream consumption, at the end of that yellow brick road - and by yellow, I do mean gold - because obviously big Agro biz is all about gold in the coffers and not the quality. Or the wellness.

Never mind the reaction people have to me ditching the low-quality food. Why don't I have a reaction to them insisting on staying on the bad stuff? I'm starting to believe that I am going to end up extremely flustered as to why people would blindly consume what they don't truly know about. After all, the latest news flash today was that there is potentially an artificial calamari on the market that is actually pig rectum. Now this report seems he-said-she-said and likely a hoax, but the fact that we should be reassured that this would be no worse than standard process meats is unnerving. As stated, there is always a likelihood that typical sausage and processed meats already contain fecal matter as a standard ingredient anyhow! And in the US, the FDA even has guidelines to allow for it. Yum!

The simple fact is, big business farming goes against natural processes and laws of nature.

So back to my question of my detoxing. What if this IS the red brick road. And what if it's not easier and in fact, actually harder, but healthier? And what am I missing? I have not even begun to tackle the tougher change in living vegan: personal hygiene products, clothing, and so on. Naturally, the second topic to tackle after the kitchen is the bathroom, as I'll strive to swap out deodorants, toothpastes, soaps and other health-related items to eliminate the mainstream brands that presumably alter my bio-chemical wellness. Tough terrain ahead, I don't doubt.

I may be underestimating this life change in choosing paths to follow, but so far, the benefits are worthwhile. Now, to stay the course!

Grazefully yours,

FatGuy

Where Was I

So, here I am. Mid-thirties, overweight, out of shape, suffering from gout, a reformed smoker (most of the time), occasional drinker, working way too many hours and spending far too little thinking about what's in the fridge beyond "I'm Hungry" and having far too many Take Out menu's committed to memory.

I've had my bursts of energy to attend the gym. I've tried almost every diet. I've sucked in my gut and reassured myself I'm just "big boned". I've eliminated soda from my diet, stopped eating as much as I did in past (cut calories, gave up most sweets)... So what could be wrong that I just can't lose weight?

Well, simply put the problem WAS the solutions. Diet soda is the devil. There is no such thing as "Fat Free" written on a label for a food that is actually good for you. White sugar is in almost everything.

So, how does one get healthy when everything is bad about almost everything out there? How on earth does the Average Joe break the cycle when you don't know any better? Well, just as with quitting smoking, there was The Choice. I just decided to quit. Quit the bad foods, and the bad habits and i CHOSE to do better.

Easier said than done though.

You won't truly make that Choice until you truly believe a healthier lifestyle is needed. You make that decision through educating yourself and understanding what your options are. Every person is different, as is their set of habits and lifestyle (which is another reason diets fail). So to make the start, simply research....

I recommend you start with a few documentaries. Those are:

Vegucated
Food Inc
Hungry for Change
TED Talks: Chew On This

Watch one or more of those and tell me if your opinion about "typical" grocery store food doesn't change. Then let's talk.