|ah! I am dieing!
||[Jan. 27th, 2008|11:32 pm]
So if I had recently made searching and fearless inventory of my beef consumption in the last year, I'd have come up with:
1) the meatballs in Progresso's Italian Wedding Soup
2) a thin slice of roast beef on the Subway Club (one of the low fat "Jared" sandwiches)
3) Hidden beef stock here and there in prepared foods/restaurant dishes/gravy
4) a pizza topping on 2 or 3 occasions
5) 3 or 4 Mcdonald's hamburgers as 99 cent "comfort food" (that's 3 or 4 in a year, not at once)
6) A burger at Blue Moon
The two times I ate a more substantial quantity of beef in one sitting (meatloaf once, a satay-type skewer another time), I didn't feel so great afterwards.
So perhaps I should have seen it coming that my torso feels so unhappy 24 hours after I consumed 8 ounces of a Kobe beef burger last night. I swear, if I had a fever, I'd be convinced I had appendicitis. I feel like a 20 pound cat is sitting on my tummy and doing that thing where they clean their ear with their back foot and go thump! thump! thump! on whatever they're lying on.
I guess it's possible something was wrong with the burger itself, but I think it's more likely I just overloaded my system, sorta like if you gave a Buddhist monk a slice of coconut cream pie after a week's meals of brown rice and steamed vegetables.
This experience is pushing me towards vegetarianism way more effectively than any visceral slaughterhouse footage ever could. This is some of the worst pain I've ever been in that didn't involve open wounds or dentistry. And of course, I can't fall asleep, either.
Another sure sign of maturity/aging: your LJ "TMI" posts are more often about gastric issues than sexual adventures.