Aside from Hockey’s botched budget, one of the grimmest documents of recent times has to be this dairy and gluten-free cornbread recipe I found online.
Yes, friends. It’s that bad. After a lifetime of delicious fairy bread, Vegemite and cheese on toast, tuna mornay and Nescafé sucked through a Tim Tam, it appears that my digestive tract is no longer accepting and tolerant of gluten. It does not want gluten to win any more Academy Awards. It will not let gluten sit on the bus.
After much denials and wailing, I took to the foodie blogs to track down something to eat other than a handful of hot gravel. I discovered that these days in the food blog world there’s an odd split. On one hand: deep-fried bearded chicken wings, tattooed burgers as high as a small child, and milkshakes made from bourbon, cream, and the contents of Elvis Presley’s aorta.
On the other, there is the natural online woman.
Although she lives simply and off-grid with her supportive husband, three glorious children and just-washed Jack Russell, every moment is as art-directed as a Terrence Malick movie.
This lissome lass spends the day tossing back her chestnut mane, flicking sand on one of those deserted American east coast beaches, perching coyly on her immaculate kitchen bench, and tying piles of bikkies (that they call ‘cookies’) up into little bows to ‘gift’ (note use of verb) to their ‘friends’ (who seem just as art directed as she). Can I blame Jamie Oliver? I think I will.
These women are vain as. Is this the rant of an un-photogenic woman with a small kitchen who’d rather read or fence than go to a health food store? Go screw yourself. And yes, you bet it is.
BITCH. I COULD CARE LESS ABOUT YOUR THIGH GAP. TAKE IT AWAY. Show me a carbohydrate that won’t make me trumpet like an Icelandic fissure 10 times an hour. Tell me how to make kale taste less like building insulation. Help me understand why I just paid $10 for a freezing cold-drip coffee.
And when these vain lasses do stoop to writing actual recipes, there’s a heavy emphasis on sweet things, reward, and feeling ‘guilt-free’.
So I am a sugar freak. Most days I’d rather talk to a jar of Nutella than any actual people. At the slightest whiff of emotion (good or bad) I’d ideally be bathing in a pile of chocolate bombolone. I work very hard every day to not be Mr Creosote.
What I do not need is for my gluttonous inclinations to be reinforced. This is why I am online and looking for healthy recipes. High-fat sugar replacement recipes – where sugar and diary is replaced by lashings of coconut milk, ground nuts and agave syrup – does not cure what ails me.
Nay, all I get is this odd sentence:
“Couldn’t be more grateful for absolutely loving the way I eat”
#blessed #gratitude #humble #livelife
Theirs is a constant state of excitement and gratitude. Each new day brings new sunsets, trips to the Pilates studio, fluffy dogs, and a state of breathless I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-to-me giddiness.
WHEN do these fuckers do any WORK.
So do any other gluten-starved individuals rant and foam like I do? No, they do not. They lap this up with a biodegradable spoon. They send love hearts and supportive comments and ‘you go girls’. People want this madness! Maybe I am the mad one? I must be!
These blog ladies are not constructed by the media; these blog ladies are self-constructed. They are just ‘being themselves’. They are naturally this way, god help us. Natural is a word that comes up a lot. But for them to continue and share their natural ‘lifestyle’, us plebs need to be face-down in our phones or laptops for the system to work.
I can’t help but feel that all this emphasis on living healthy – being the person you always wanted to be, living your dream, eating well, yoga, mindfulness – is not making humanity any better. Humans: our sickness lies deeper than that.