So, quick medical background info: my insides are still kind of a pill. I mean, I'm pretty much living my life normally now, complete with an excess of JUST DANCE 4 and running up stairs like freakin' Rocky. Occasionally throughout the day it feels like a small animal is trying to tear its way out of my stomach ala the movie Alien, but since it's only occasionally I can totally deal.
The only thing that is not back to normal is eating- I'm still having a crazy hard time with food. Anytime I eat anything, or even drink anything that is not water, I know sucky times are on their way. So right now I'm pretty much living off of two fist fulls of food a day, and that seems to be (sort of) cutting it.
I've also decided to go vegetarian- not that big of a deal for me, I was veg all through high school and vegan in most of middle school. I have several reasons for going back to this lifestyle- first and foremost, if I'm only eating a lil' baby bit, I dang well want to get the most nutrition out of those calories. I personally can accomplish this easier when vegetarian. I'm also pretty paranoid eating anything out of Africa, but as man cannot live by imported doritos alone I figure I can cut down on my parasite risks by cutting out the meat. Additionally, I've been reading a lot on how a plant-based diet can help bring down cancer, and while I'm not entirely sure I buy into it I'm dead serious about getting my 20+ years of living time, so I figure I'll give it a try.
(It should also be noted that when your boyfriend says he's got beef, I'd like to tell him that I'm a vegetarian and I'm not freakin' scared of him without it being a lie. So there's that.)
So I'm once again a fully fledged, menu-planning, sprout-growing, meat-abstaining vegetarian. Yay.
Like everything else in a third world country, maintaining a vegetarian (or any!) diet is hard. I've been back in country for five days now, and the thing I miss most so far, other than my new Germany friends, of course, you guys are awesome and I love you, is the grocery store. O! Commissary, with thine aisles of delectable treasures! May your bounty never run dry!
Getting food here remains to be expensive and a general pain. No news there.
But yesterday.....yesterday, we found broccoli.
You guys, I freaking love broccoli. I'd write a short poem about how much I love it, but I feel like after that bit about the commissary it would be overkill. So suffice it to say...I really really love it.
As I've mentioned before, broccoli here runs super expensive. The last time I think we had it was on my birthday, because it tends to sell for between eight and ten dollars a stalk. Multiply that by a family of seven and it adds up fast. But this broccoli was a mere six dollars, so we decided to splurge.
I'm not going to lie to you guys, it was delicious. I had a massive helping. B decided she was not feeling the greenery, so I greedily scooted her serving onto my plate.
That's about the point when I noticed the worm.
Still being on the parasites will kill you/worms are nastay freak out train, I had a little baby melt down with some swearing and out loud wondering if this continent is trying to kill me, etc. Admittedly cursing at the dinner table in front of the impressionable little babies is not a cool move, but I did apologize and in my defense I still think it was dramatically less cussing than the situation actually merited.
So: to sum up, ate some broccoli, it was delicious, found a lil' baby worm, had a lil' baby freak out, calmed down.
And that's when we noticed the rest of the worms.
The broccoli, for lack of a better word, was infested. At this point my darling father nobly launched into a speech about how in parts of this very continent, worms like these were a delicacy! Many a time had he eaten such worms before!
He also went on to purposefully eat some worms, theoretically in an attempt to normalize the situation and convince the rest of the family (we were all freaking out at this point) to please not abandon him in Africa like we're always threatening to do. In reality I think he just did it because he's a boy and boys like to do things to make girls squirm, regardless of age.
However, I missed most of this because by then I'd realized just how much of the broccoli I had eaten and was projectile vomiting up the entirety of the food I'd consumed today. I've said it before and I'll say it again, generally I'm a pretty graceful lady-puker. I could probably give lessons at this point. Tonight, however, was a holy-crap-I-hate-myself-and-also-Africa-and-also-worms-which-I-ate-so-gross-ew-ew-ew fast and furious, out through the nose upchuck. Never before have I thrown up so violently, and hopefully I never again will.
The moral of the story here, guys, is that sometimes when you think you've given up animal protein, the universe surprises you with juuuust a little bit more.
Also I replaced the lost calories with some old-fashioned FDA approved Ritter Sport, because feelings, guys.
Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Fancy-ness: a perpetually displaced third culture kid trying to get it together.
Showing posts with label TIA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TIA. Show all posts
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
in which there is poorly shot iphone video
So...it's been an interesting week. And by interesting, I mean ROLLER COASTER OF FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS, and switching meds, and realizing once again that my brain is, as Jenny Lawson so eloquently puts it: "A g*dd*mn mess up there."
(I censor because I love you, delicately eyeballed sister, and for no other reason.)
Basically, I've been absent from the blogging world because I've been too busy stress-eating, and stress-dancing, and stress-painting.
(I censor because I love you, delicately eyeballed sister, and for no other reason.)
Basically, I've been absent from the blogging world because I've been too busy stress-eating, and stress-dancing, and stress-painting.
If you think this is bad, you should see the dancing.
However, as I spent most of this morning engaged in an involuntary feelings-purging nap, I think things are under control again. Also, if you've never taken an feelings-purging nap, you should get on that. Or don't get on that. Sleep is a bitter form of refuge. Your call. Moving on.
Anyway, as I don't yet feel capable of saying anything new or interesting, I'll give you some video clips I took on my phone on the drive into work yesterday. It's really impossible to tell what's going on without being told beforehand, so I shall enlighten you: There is a stretch of beach I'd say is maybe the length of a football field called "University beach" where all the Senegalese dudes work out, apparently. Basically they all run back and forth on this same stretch of beach. Sometimes it gets to the point where there are literally hundreds of them, running back and forth over the span of about 100 yards. Which wouldn't be so weird, were it not for the fact that they literally have MILES AND MILES of beach available to them, and they pick this stretch. Oh, Senegalese. You so silly.
They also have a weight lifting area where they pick up tires and stuff. It's like the Dakar version of Muscle Beach. They've recently acquired a nautilis-type weight machine, rumored to having been dumped there by the special forces in the middle of the night, which they haven't quite figured out how to use yet. It's great.
Also if you listen closely you can hear my dad explaining the finer points of Apocalypse Now, so...Bonus!
TIA, body builders, TIA.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
in which my boobs don't discriminate
Just got back from the international bazaar with my family- it was lovely. The Austrian Embassy hosted, around a dozen different countries represented by selling goods and foods from their nation- further solidifying my desire to have beautiful things from all over the world.
I may or may not have conned Brianna into buying me some bejeweled Indian flats for my birthday [which is on tuesday, but I will accept presents throughout the remainder of the year] because, you know, jewels.
My own dear siblings represented by hawking their handmade pillowcases- because what is homeschooling if not an excuse to open a sweatshop? They're actually pretty cool, they make them with local fabric. So far they've sold pretty well.
I'm sure my mom's got pictures, I should commandeer her camera and post some of them..
I also learned that when not tucked into something, using my crutches causes my shirt to ride up.
Like, all the way up.
Which wouldn't be that big of a deal if I was still rocking the sports-bra-and-running-shorts-under-everything look, but today I decided I should actually make an effort with my clothes, so it was really something more along the lines of this:
I may or may not have conned Brianna into buying me some bejeweled Indian flats for my birthday [which is on tuesday, but I will accept presents throughout the remainder of the year] because, you know, jewels.
My own dear siblings represented by hawking their handmade pillowcases- because what is homeschooling if not an excuse to open a sweatshop? They're actually pretty cool, they make them with local fabric. So far they've sold pretty well.
I'm sure my mom's got pictures, I should commandeer her camera and post some of them..
I also learned that when not tucked into something, using my crutches causes my shirt to ride up.
Like, all the way up.
Which wouldn't be that big of a deal if I was still rocking the sports-bra-and-running-shorts-under-everything look, but today I decided I should actually make an effort with my clothes, so it was really something more along the lines of this:
And you thought I'd post the whole thing.
I AM A LADY, INTERNET.
So now, in addition to the Americans and Senegalese, I've pretty much flashed every culture represented in Dakar.
You're welcome, Africa.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
TIA
TIA = This is Africa.
It's a quote from Blood Diamond, which I have not actually seen, but they did film it in a country where my dad was then working and Leo Dicaprio had to go into the embassy to get a visa issue ironed out and my own dear father could not be bothered to WALK DOWN THE HALL to go and see him. DOWN. THE HALL. TO LEONARDO DICAPRIO.
I feel this is an accurate portrayal of my father's work ethic and lack of appreciation for beautiful men.
I mean, he could have at least gotten me an autograph.
aisch.
Anyways, here are some of my thoughts about Africa today:
-I keep forgetting this is a muslim country, which means they have delicious food to be had here. (Greek chicken wrap from the embassy caf, I am looking at you, my love.) They also totally have polygamy, which I keep forgetting about until I overhear conversations debating which wife should be invited to events. I'd say bring all the muslim sister wives because
a) I love me some sister wives, and
b) Ladies love to be invited places.
Then I realized that would not work out, as there would be no one left to babysit. Sorry, sister wives!
-To the toubab girls in booty shorts and mini skirts:
GO HOME AND PUT SOME CLOTHES ON.
If we were in your home country, I'd be all like, yeah! wear whatever you want! girl power!
BUT WE ARE NOT IN YOUR HOME COUNTRY. You are being disrespectful to your host nation, and your home nation. Shame on you.
(I am looking at you, French hipsters. You know better than that.)
Oh, also I've been walking down stairs on my crutches wrong (apparently you're just supposed to hop?) and I've been putting my life in danger THIS WHOLE TIME.
bonus african iphone picture:
It's a quote from Blood Diamond, which I have not actually seen, but they did film it in a country where my dad was then working and Leo Dicaprio had to go into the embassy to get a visa issue ironed out and my own dear father could not be bothered to WALK DOWN THE HALL to go and see him. DOWN. THE HALL. TO LEONARDO DICAPRIO.
I feel this is an accurate portrayal of my father's work ethic and lack of appreciation for beautiful men.
I mean, he could have at least gotten me an autograph.
aisch.
Anyways, here are some of my thoughts about Africa today:
-I keep forgetting this is a muslim country, which means they have delicious food to be had here. (Greek chicken wrap from the embassy caf, I am looking at you, my love.) They also totally have polygamy, which I keep forgetting about until I overhear conversations debating which wife should be invited to events. I'd say bring all the muslim sister wives because
a) I love me some sister wives, and
b) Ladies love to be invited places.
Then I realized that would not work out, as there would be no one left to babysit. Sorry, sister wives!
-To the toubab girls in booty shorts and mini skirts:
GO HOME AND PUT SOME CLOTHES ON.
If we were in your home country, I'd be all like, yeah! wear whatever you want! girl power!
BUT WE ARE NOT IN YOUR HOME COUNTRY. You are being disrespectful to your host nation, and your home nation. Shame on you.
(I am looking at you, French hipsters. You know better than that.)
Oh, also I've been walking down stairs on my crutches wrong (apparently you're just supposed to hop?) and I've been putting my life in danger THIS WHOLE TIME.
bonus african iphone picture:
Go home, Dakar taxies. You are drunk.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)


