I hope Ammo Grrrll will follow through on the promise of more to come in IT AIN’T NECESSARILY SO – Part One. She writes:
I have been working on a theme for a whole series of columns for days when it is just too depressing to address politics (days ending in “y,” mostly). And I thought about all the things that we repeat like mantras that may or may not stand up to any kind of rigorous examination in the cold light of day. We will start with a common one – “Listen to your body!”
I used to get most of my medical advice from Miguel, the Produce Guy at Bashas, but he left many months ago, even before the Wuhan Flu. So now I am once again forced to rely on the weekly advice in Women’s World Magazine, available at the grocery checkout counter.
Every week – no, seriously, EVERY week! – there is a new diet on the cover swearing you can lose a minimum of 50 pounds in 3 weeks. There is also always a pictorial recipe section featuring gorgeous cakes, and several pages of confident and oddly-specific nutritional advice: “Eat 6 cups of broccoli a day for 22% more energy!” “Dark chocolate is 78% anti-oxidants!” And one of the things emphasized in most every diet paradigm featured in the magazine is “Listen to your body.” Let’s explore the wisdom of that, shall we?
LISTEN TO YOUR BODY: What Could Go Wrong?
Now, I can’t speak for you. Only Leftists can speak for everybody, especially oppressed groups to which they do not belong. Maybe YOUR “body” is just as smart as a whip. My MIND used to be pretty sharp – but even that is not as reliable a mentor as it used to be. Probably because, despite superhuman efforts, I have failed to eat enough dark chocolate.
But my BODY is clearly an idiot. Here are the ideas my body routinely comes up with:
“Psssst… Susan! It’s been more than two hours since breakfast. Let’s have a big dish of ice cream. Just for the calcium. If it’s Rum Raisin, you’ve got your iron there as well. Maybe put some chocolate sauce on it. For the magnesium and anti-oxidants. Yeah, that’s a great idea.”
“Here’s another idea: Instead of logging our boring 12,000 daily steps, let’s have a nice nap. Right after the ice cream. I read that napping makes you 35% less tired.”
Why doesn’t my body ever tell me to eat more salad? Mama used to make a wonderful cherry JELL-O with real pie cherries in it, Cool Whip, and just for good measure, miniature marshmallows. That was called a “salad.” At least in rural Minnesota in the ‘50s. Now THAT’s a “salad” I can rally behind. Or add to my behind. One of those things.
Whatever happened to JELL-O? When I first got married – Cotton Mather was officiating as I recall — I even had a JELL-O recipe book! Amazingly enough, it was put out by the JELL-O people themselves, with clever recipes and pretty pictures. I remember one where you used seven boxes of JELL-O to make 7 rainbow layers, one atop the last color, in a glass bowl so you can see them. (Any recipe you see on a box of product will aim to use as much as possible of that product. Don’t doubt me. Any recipe on the oatmeal box will start, “Take 10 cups of oatmeal.”) Anyway, I tried the 7-box Rainbow JELL-O deal ONE time. One and done. What a PITA. It took all day. The kids were not nearly as impressed as advertised.
I know JELL-O still exists in the store, but at all those church potlucks in the ’50s and early ’60s, there would be 15 different kinds – the Lime green one with celery and grated carrots in it – and then all kinds of flavors with bananas, peaches, grated cranberries, cream cheese and such. And one day, the housewives of America just up and quit making it! Like quiche.
Last time we had JELL-O was in colonoscopy prep when we had to have 3 days of “clear” foods. I’m sure the JELL-O people are just pleased as punch to be associated with one of the worst experiences people can have that isn’t actually life-threatening.
Of course, they already had a high creepy factor with Bill Cosby as a spokesperv. Talk about a guy going off the rails “listening to his body”! Now I believe that it was no accident that Cosby’s belated legal troubles coincided with his speaking out against the pathology in aspects of current black culture. And I also believe that once the ball got rolling, there was at least some piling on by specious #Me2-ists who hoped to cash in.
BUT. If even one accuser was telling the truth, it really is close to impossible to understand. Here was a guy on top of the world. Successful actor, pitchman, married to a beautiful woman. He is richer than Croesus; he could have had several willing young paramours stashed in discreet apartments in multiple cities. Or go the Tiger route with professionals. Money, no problem. But no.
Instead, he supposedly chose to drug women senseless and have sex that could scarcely be more robust than necrophilia. Argggh. And also, icky-poo. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assert that listening to terrible advice from your body in the sexual realm has probably caused more heartache, harm, and misery than any other human failing, of which we all have a shockingly large number.
Addiction and alcoholism would be a close second on the misery index. And heck, you don’t have to be an alcoholic to have vague yet vivid memories of times when “listening to your body” saying “Let’s just have one more martini – what could that hurt?” was a big mistake. If we were lucky, it only involved begging a former loved one to hold our hair in the bathroom. If we were unlucky, there might have been unpleasantness and inconvenience involving detention, loss of license, loss of vehicle, mandated 12-step meetings or, worst of all, injuring ourselves or others, God forbid.
Though my religion is Judaism, I am mostly Irish by ethnicity. Now I cast no aspersions at my brothers and sisters of The Emerald Isle. After my rotator-cuff injury, I can barely rack the slide on my Walther PPQ, let alone cast aspersions. But in my extended Irish family, we count more than a couple of very serious drinkers, several of whom have already died prematurely. When your body tells you that a fifth of Jameson a day is about right, it is probably time to listen to a more specific body part – like your liver.
Bottom line: your body may know better than to eat the yellow snow, but it is of limited use in matters of either the heart or morals. Better to always listen to your WIFE. If you don’t have one, get one. Ladies should probably listen to their best girlfriend from high school and in rare situations, their husbands. Just kidding, guys!
