These past two weeks I have come to a realization. I love food.
"Uh, OK. Well this is a blog about food," you say. Well, yes it is. But what I mean to say is, I love food.
I love food so much that the thought of never being able to eat another tomato in my life brings a tear to my eye.
"Well, now you're just being ridiculous." OK, I am. But that was seriously how I was feeling earlier this week.
Finals week, and the so-called "Dead week" period leading up to it can have a strange affect upon people. In my case, Dead week really did try to kill me.
At least, that's what I was thinking when I had to stop studying for an hour or so to go to Student Health last week because I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
The doctor listened to my chest and said I "sounded" healthy. Then she gave me this piece of paper about Acid Reflux and said I should stop eating tomatoes, and chocolate, oranges, and onions (basically, anything that is worth eating, mind you).
Well, it's at least comforting to know you aren't going to die. Still, I really like tomatoes.
What's left to eat? Bland things. Low fat things. Boring things. Things that, hopefully, won't make you feel like your heart is going to explode.
A little search of the Internet for meal ideas (in between paper writing and studying for French, I assure you) didn't produce much.
Beans. Graham crackers. Carrots. No, thank you.
I tried to get a little more creative than that. Mostly repeats of everything you see here. I ate a lot of green things, so I guess it was fitting the worst of my symptoms transpired over St. Patrick's Day.
After a week of eating many sweet potatoes, numerous slices of bread, bowlfuls of split pea soup, and a seemingly endless stream of oatmeal, I feel better. Praise the Lord!
What have I learned from this ordeal? Well, besides the fact that I really love food (especially tomatoes), I've learned that I am really blessed to even be able to complain about a "lack" of food variety.
Also, that there are only so many bowls of oatmeal that a girl can eat.
