August 21, 2014

#nosugar

SIBO's a bitch, and I'm not really dealing with it as rigorously as I should.

Fortunately, it's not a life-or-death situation. Just like my food allergies/intolerances/sensitivities are NOT life-or-death. Not in the immediate sense of something like anaphylactic shock, anyway. But give me gluten and I become a total raging asshole. I don't know why, but that is how it reacts with my body chemistry. Maybe all my little villi get so stressed out and angry that they have to deal with the insanity that is gluten that they whip out little swords or pepper spray (or the intestinal equivalent) and go apeshit on the gluten molecules..."it's us or them!" So perhaps life-or-death on a different scale. Who the fuck knows? Not me.

Dairy makes me irritable, exhausted, apathetic, gassy, constipated and zitty. Eggs bloat me out, as do a whole bunch of things now. Thanks, SIBO. Bitch.

If anyone wants to roll their eyes about food intolerances/allergies/sensitivities, send them my way and give me a Cinnabon before they show up. I'll wolf that puppy down and then go apeshit on them. My plea will be "not guilty by reason of gluten-induced insanity" and I will get off. Who else remembers the Twinkie Defense?

Anyway...

I was looking over the guidelines for treating SIBO. One of the first things you need to stop ingesting is sugar. I was so excited to restrict my diet further! After corresponding with one of my #bloggingbesties who was beginning a 21-day #nosugar stint, I decided to keep her company for 17 days (until I needed to go camping and eat toasted marshmallows). The first two weeks were a lot harder than I had imagined. I seriously fantasized about Junior Mints. I texted my sponsor several times in those two weeks for moral support and guidance, then when I had almost hit the breaking point I realized how good I felt and how NOT BLOATED I was. Honestly, who the fuck knows if it was just the sugar. I stopped eating other shit as a part of my nuke-the-fucking-SIBO regimen, and my marshmallowfest didn't seem to do too much damage vis à vis bloating.

So what's the point of this post?

Hell if I know.

It's been a month since I posted anything and tonight I felt like typing.

And I'm really not kidding when I say...if you're not following me on Instagram you're missing all the good stuff. And you can follow my hiking stats on RunKeeeeeepah. I hate that app.

Like my 13-mile hike...

My couch potato teenaged son is now a hiking machine.
We did this together.

And my latest camping trip...oh, wait...I've taken two...

Proper camping attire.

My big girl jumped in.
The boys were both chicken.

Coolest playhouse EVER.
Carved out of a redwood stump and
 2 stories with stairs.

Best campsite yet.
Spacious and in the redwood grove...
but set a little above which discouraged random
kids from waking us up before 7 a.m.

A #shoelessselfie showcasing my dirty feet.
That is not a tan.
Yes, you can hike in flipflops.

My tiny tree-hugger.
How can anyone ever get sick of redwoods or pictures of redwoods?

And teddy bear blueberry pancakes. Not reposting that here because people get all judgy when you recycle IG on your blog and act like it's new content. Though I doubt judgy people ever read this blog.

And that concludes our random blogpost of the day.

Who wants to do the Avenue of the Giants Marathon with me next May?
–no, I'm not kidding. But I'll be walking.
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