Andrew and I have started trying to “eat healthy.” We’ve never done too badly—we cook almost every meal at home, and we eat fast food only when we’re stuck in an airport—but at the same time I have a fondness for soups and gratins and pastas that would be healthy if only they didn’t contain several sticks of butter or cups of heavy cream or delicious slices of prosciutto. But after our bodyfat-testing adventure this weekend, we went to the food co-op, then another grocery store, and stocked up on genuinely Healthy Choices: rice cakes, Kashi all-natural crackers, fruits, vegetables, V-8, cranberry juice, grapefruit juice, salad, lean meats, yogurt, granola. It was an impressive display.
This has nothing to do with our becoming “Californian,” really, and more to do with things such as the fact that since moving to California our walking has been reduced by about 99%. Hence the health food, and hence our gym membership. I’m shocked at the effect that California has had on us: who knew that walking constantly was vital to our ability to subsist happily in Spain on a diet made up primarily of wine, patatas bravas, and large quantities of cheese? We’ve become warped by car culture. Walking to the gym—less than five minutes away—now leads us to say, “Good for us!”
Good for us, indeed. I just looked over at the Kashi crackers beside me; the box is almost empty, and I’m still hungry. Time to toast a bagel and get out the—vegetable, and therefore almost healthy—cream cheese. Onward!