Over on Facebook today, I posted a photo of a piece of original art I bought this weekend. It fits perfectly into the color and décor of my kitchen, right next to the hanging basket of limes and tomatoes and north of my collection of vitamins and herbal supplements. Guess how comments were about my pee? Well, two. And one selling me on the idea of a program that, truth told, I would try and embrace were it not available only via a pointy marketing pyramid.
Lack of comments for the artwork and my interpretation that it represents wisdom lies within aside, I swallow a lot. And not like that. I take vitamins and minerals and supplements every day. Some call them unnecessary, expensive, mostly peed out. But given the nature of the food chain and degradation of nurturing soil, I’m of the belief that adding to an otherwise balanced and crunchy diet is a good thing.
My belly and cells don’t take kindly to western potions and pills. They make me anxious or angry, bloated and urpy and prone to breaking out. I listen to and heed traditional doctors, but many still treat ailments as a “Been there done that.” Take this to cure that because that’s what most do. Same size, same dosage, same treatment, some side effects.
I take Vitamin D, E, C and Selenium (to build thyroid strength), Biotin (hair and nails and a great all-round B vitamin), Glucosomine (for joints) and Flax Oil and a metabolism booster of Kelp, Lecithin and apple cider vinegar daily. And I feel mostly great most days. Haven’t had to attempt Synthroid for a third nasty time, my thyroid damaged by an autoimmune event, also known as a goiter which is about as sexy as the gout or a thick yellow toe nail. I’ve kept it healthy and running to my endocrinologists liking with lifestyle changes and loads of research. I don’t get sick much and when I do blame it on the environment of sweat at the gym, where I do cardio for my heart and weights for my muscles and yoga for my head.
I eat well, absolutely, and don’t limit anything per see. Knock wood, but I’m not going under a bus wishing I’d had that dirty martini or plate of warm hummus and flatbread. I’m currently obsessed with sweet potato fries roasted in olive oil, sprinkled with salt, cracked pepper and herbes de Provence and topped hot with goat feta. Been eating enough red meat lately (because of the easy wonder that is the Hibachi charcoal grill) that my body wants it less right now. Fish takes center square of my white Crate and Barrel plates.
I like veggies more than fruits but whip together a smoothie of berries or peaches or stone fruits, Kerfir and a scoop of coconut oil most mornings. The candida cleanse (courtesy of the oil) has been…foamy. A pipe cleaning for the colon, it eliminates the bad fungi and replaces it with good, probiotic bacteria. Not pretty, mind you, but effective. Plus a slather of coconut oil on a couple of wheat saltines before a work out sends performance through the roof, especially for those (like me) who tend to exercise with little food in them. Full belly + heavy cardio = vomit waiting to happen (also known as The Biggest Loser money shot.)
And I pee clear. Rule #1.