I just spent two hours scouring YouTube for ideas of what to eat. Not a single person who created a video (even the really best ones) made more than one meal in their meal prep planning/execution than I could eat. It seems to me that nobody on planet Earth has my exact dietary restrictions… at least, if they do, they’re unaware of it.
Thus, I had to create the Crystol Meal Prep Plan! It’s stupid simple and annoying, actually. I’m bored just looking at it. I’ll show you why:
- 14 pounds of vegetables
- 3.5 pounds of lean cut meats
- 3.5 cups home made trail mix
- 7 pieces fruit
- Fats, of course, including avocado and/or avocado oil
- Seasonings: onion, garlic, basil, oregano, vanilla, monkfruit
- COFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
This is what I’m going to eat in a week.
Yeah, it sounds so amazing, doesn’t it? The possibilities are so endless.
Not.
I made a list of Crystol-safe veggies, too. It’s not as long (or as tasty) as I like, either.
Crystol Safe Vegetables
- Arugula
- Artichoke
- Asparagus
- Bok choy
- Broccoli
- Brussel sprouts
- Cabbage
- Cauliflower
- Chives
- Endive
- Fiddlehead greens
- Green beans
- Kale
- Mustard greens
- Onion
- Radish
- Romaine
- Spring onion
Crystol Safe Fruits
- Apple
- Avocado
- Blackberries
- Cherries
- Peach
- Pear
- Raspberries
- Strawberries
So then I asked God… what do we call this diet, Sir? He asks me in return, “Life-Extension Diet?” Suits me just fine. It will definitely extend my life.
I haven’t checked every single thing on this list, but I happen to know almost all of it is on the low glycemic index. I challenge your dumb food pyramid with the Hunter-Gatherer test:
Where did they gather bread again?
Early human civilization is rather nomadic. We’ve stopped being nomads because it’s inconvenient and uncomfortable. Boo frickin’ hoo to us. Now we’ve stopped eating what’s in season because we can ship it around the world nilly willy, at great cost to Mother Earth, and eat whatever our hearts want any day of the year. Famine is for those living in poverty, these days.
What did we eat as nomads?
Anything that didn’t kill us, including grass. As much as our bellies could hold. Grass wasn’t as popular of a plant in those days, so there were far more flowers and shrubs and even trees, since, you know, we didn’t pave half the goddamn world in asphalt and cement to make it easier for us to walk around. Our ease of travel is far more important than any other being on this planet. I see evidence of that in poor mangled animals we summarize into the words “road kill.” STOP SWERVING AND SLOW DOWN. AND PUT THE GODDAMN PHONE AWAY, MURDERERS.
If you hit a person, you’d be persecuted. There is no advocate for that raccoon, that skunk, that opossum, that beaver, that… animal you killed at 3:00 AM driving home drunk like a jackass. Get a fucking horse if you’re going to be inebriated while you travel. It’s cheaper, anyway. (Prove me wrong.)
Tonight, I am the advocate for those poor beasts lying dead in the road. I hold each and every one of them in my arms and cry for the passage of their life being cut short. By what? An inattentive driver, that’s what. Sometimes, yes, accidents fucking happen. You also know better, driving through wooded territories at 80 MPH when the speed limit is… 35.
I asked God if I can be a snow leopard in my next life. He said there might not be any left. I told him that suited me anyway, since my most favorite lifetime on planet Earth was in one of Neptune’s temples, being kept as a sacred snake by a soothsaying woman who knew what true love was. She’s forgotten now, now that you’ve raped her so many times between then and now.
The moon is full tonight. I said, “AROO!” to it playfully, before it occurred to me to ask God if the moon’s phase actually had any affect on how sane I am. It doesn’t. I still get to hear assholes, day in and day out. It’s just that they are distracted with other affairs these days and I am about to get to a quiet spell. Especially since I am going to the store when there’s barely a soul in it.
Of course, there was a dude in the store this evening and he’s thinking about me right now. Some asshole with “fashionable face fur” and a Dolphins jersey. (I question if men who gather around with each other to watch people in spandex run around are actually straight or not.) I saw all of four people in the store this evening.
I might start doing grocery pickup. I am getting tired of all the unwanted attention I receive. On the other hand, the man in the deli (the target for Cupid’s arrow), would never see me again. I have no idea what he does besides work. You’re supposed to meet people doing hobbies but I don’t have hobbies outside of keeping myself alive.
I mean, I’m eating a bowl of frozen raspberries, trying to convince myself it’s as good as ice cream. Does this sound like marriage material to anyone else? It’s the “convincing myself” part that isn’t marriage material, not the eating the frozen raspberries part. I have to give up on illusions, they serve me no more.
I delude myself, thinking I can eat more than the list of foods above. Maybe, some day, I can… when I’m back on a fitness routine to burn carbs and calories and build muscle.
Out of two hours of YouTube videos, I found one recipe to take into my next life: cashew cream. You literally just boil a bunch of cashews for 10 minutes and then blend with a touch of water once they cool back down. That’s it. That’s all I got from the whole thing.
I daydream of a creative man swooping in and saving the day with some sort of mind-blowing recipe book using such a simple list of ingredients. Moreover, such a restricted list of ingredients. However, I clearly have to do it for myself, deli man crush or not.
This diet is citrus-free, sugar-free, dairy-free, gluten-free, grain-free (until exercise balance is needed), and nightshade-free. Largely, it’s also acid-free, as I repair my intestines.
Of course, my mind is turning over that simple cashew cream recipe. It would be simple enough to blend in an avocado for some sort of salad dressing (maybe a touch more water, too.) Or some vanilla, monkfruit, and frozen berries for a great dessert. That’s why it’s coming with me into my next life. My life as Sansara Solsinger, savior of mankind.
I’m not going to heal y’all, though. I’m going to teach you how to heal yourselves. If Jesus was so fuckin’ great, why didn’t he teach y’all that?
Isn’t it the Bible itself that has that whole ‘teach a man to fish’ thing going on? WHY DIDN’T HE TEACH Y’ALL REIKI? He was obviously a fuckin’ reiki master. DUH.
I wonder if I’m the snake that got vilified by The Bible.
Angel-Sansara 