Sunday, March 11, 2007

Type O


I have been thinking that I should get my act together and eat more healthily. Because I'm a firm believer that most things start in the mind, I headed to the bookstore to look for a book that could help me get down and shape up. The night before, at dinner, Jake had said that his wife was reading a book which defined eating based on one's blood type (for another story on my blood type, see June 14 2005's blog entry). Thinking it was quite a good idea, I went in search of a book that could tell me, a type O, what I should eat and I found lots of stuff on it, some good, some bad so if you are a type O too, read up! Apparently I am a hunter-gatherer type; the stuff cavemen and barbarians are made of (finally my failed attempts at refinement makes sense; I belong to a different age, one of those running and chasing hyperactive ones and no little wonder then, that I like to bash things, a tribute to my club-bearing ancestral origins).

The first thing the book said was that I was allowed to eat as much meat as I wanted to... except pork and frog!!! As much as I knew I was not meant to be vegetarian, being Chinese, I like my pig; trotter, tail, intestines, meat, fat, the lot. there are few things nicer than boiled pig's tail cooked with black beans, dipped in sesame oil, salt and soya sauce and frog's legs are yummy. My mum 'tricked' me into eating frog by telling me they were 'water chicken' which is the direct translation of frog in Hokkien. So although I assumed that it was some sort of water bird, ginger frog was actually passing my lips. When I found out later, the sweet taste of frog was sill a vivid memory that I happily accepted that frog was now on life's menu. So the news that those two meats were considered 'poison' to my body was somewhat upsetting. I mean, how bad can a bacon butty be?? My favourites, prawn and venison were given the thumbs up, which lessened the pangs of being potentially porkless and frogless in the depths of my stomach.

I am allowed to eat as much swordfish as I want! How random. Most health books I have read advise women especially against eating swordfish because of its high mercury levels. But octopus is a no-no. To think, I was just telling my friends a few days ago that I love baby octopus because of the squiggly feeling I get cramming all their little legs into my mouth at once. I think cod was good for me and so was sardine (including the bones) and tinned salmon but strangely enough, not smoked salmon. I am allowed to eat all leafy green veggies and broccoli but not cucumber. No oranges or coconut for me, which suits me just fine, but no dairy either. At all. That, I had a problem with. A big one.

The highlight of my horror being an O was that peanut butter was completely off the list even when separated. Peanut butter, especially crunchy peanut butter, with its little knobs of uncrushed peanuts offering themselves to be obliterated in your jaws really makes my day, makes me smile and makes everything good again because it sticks everyhting together, it is sooo nicey-gooey. My favourite chocolate bar is the Kit Kat Crunchy Peanut Butter one, sadly not found in Malaysia but that is hardly the saddest thing. As a self-professed chocoholic, to be told that chocolate is poison to my system is like telling me that dogs are monkeys. As ice cream, butter, cheese, cream cheese, parmesan and camembert added themselves to the list, I was thinking of getting myself tested again. Perhaps my blood was man-handled and I should get a second opinion. The book I mentally deemed self-righteous and a party-poooper offered little recompense in saying that I could have an egg a week, feta and mozarella. An egg a week! I used to have 2 a day in the days I had instant noodles as a staple. But if I were to follow the book, my days of wheat and MSG are gone for good. I had a strange feeling that as an O, I was made to be a carnivour. Without the teeth for the job.

As I leafed through a few more pages, I thought of all my favourite dishes and all those puddings I would be missing. All the luscious brownies I could no longer eat, chocolate bars I could no longer enjoy, cheese parties I could no longer take part in, cucumbers I had to forgo when ordering my aromatic crispy duck, Belgium chocolate fudge pieces I had to pass on during weddings, not forgetting carbonara, Ben and Jerrys and mashed potatoes. At this point in time, I am yet undecided whether to heed the advice of this book that I had sought out in the first place. The road to perfect health and the most efficient metabolism I could have requires a lot more than I thought it would.

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