Recently, my doctor cheerfully reminded me that, because of my "immune issues," which currently are amps on eleven, I could see immediate benefits from a raw food diet. Note: We have to call my immune issues "issues," and not "deficiencies," because THERE AIN'T NUTTIN' DEFICIENT ABOUT THIS HERE IMMUNE SYSTEM. Is my immune system bat-s*** crazy? ABSOLUTELY. But deficient? Far from it. Are you an allergen? No? Do you sort of look like an allergen if my immune system squints at you? Well, then - forewarned is fair-warned. Because my immune system is going to come at you like a spider monkey, Chip. (If, Mr. Allergen, or Mr. Unfairly Profiled Non-Allergen, your name happens to be Chip. Points to all readers who got the "Talladega Nights" reference. Sorry for confusing you, Other Readers - but do consider renting "Talladega Nights," because it's pretty awesome.)
Technically, a raw diet only needs to incorporate 75% raw foods. But I'm all about jumping into things feet first - and making myself miserable as a result. Day 1 lunch was great, thanks to a quick trip by Central Market en route to the office: a half cup of cucumber salad, a half cup of French vegetable salad, a couple of spoonfuls of artichoke kalamata hummus (all vegan) and a handful of grapes, washed down with some wheatgrass juice and a green tea chaser. Day 1 dinner? Well, I grabbed a sweet potato while I was at Central Market, and I remembered to bring it home. Points for me! Tasted awesome with a little agave nectar and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Except it was just one sweet potato. So I did some fridge recon - nothing jumped out at me (figuratively, or, thankfully, literally - there's stuff of questionable vintage in there, and some of it may have evolved to the sentient stage by now). Next, I moved on to the pantry to peruse the canned goods. (I know, not truly "raw," but better than scarfing down the small frozen pizza I was heating up for Son #1. Yes, I was doing the short-order cook thing. Throw me a bone - it was only Day 1, and my hips were hurting big-time, thanks to an antibiotic shot to the left and a steroid shot to the right. Stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight - but gingerly, because, OW.)
I know enough about sugar content in foods to know to avoid the corn and peas, so moving back a row . . . hmm, a can of green beans. And another can of green beans. AND EIGHT MORE CANS OF GREEN BEANS! Clearly, I've been stuck in a "Grocery Shopping Groundhog Day" rut. You might be familiar - you remember that you need an item, but the next time you forget that you remembered about that item the last time, and you buy that item again. Wash, rinse, repeat. End result: ten cans of green beans, or ten bottles of ketchup. (The same phenomenon manifests itself during holiday shopping - hence the back-to-back hunter green duvet covers presented to my brother-in-law . . . who hates hunter green. But does own a duvet. ONE duvet, but a duvet nonetheless.)
Moving on to the next shelf: Crud, more green beans. And ketchup. Several bottles of ketchup. The green beans, I'm fairly confident, are mocking me. And multiplying.
Green beans it shall be. Now, given that they are canned green beans, I probably could nuke them - but in a misguided attempt at keeping it raw I decide to eat them cold, maybe drizzled with a little balsamic vinaigrette. Except I don't have any sugar-free balsamic vinaigrette, and because I am digesting my own organs at this point I don't care to take the time to make any. So I grab the first bottle of sugar-free dressing that I find.
Cold green beans with poppyseed dressing it shall be. Ohhhhhkay - now this makes sense. A raw diet cures your immune issues because it makes you cranky, causing you to commit (1) suicide or (2) homicide (or, what the hey, why not both?). If (1), then, hey, problem 100% solved. If (2), you're in the big house or the loony bin, and you've got bigger worries than a few hives.
But your nails will be smooth and unridged . . . as they linger for all eternity in your coffin! And your hair will be glossy . . . just in time for your mug shot! Your youthful and plump skin will provide a glowing contrast to your orange prison jumpsuit.
Sorry about the Debbie Downer attitude. It's the green beans talking.