I've been impressed with the results so far, and plan to write a formal "don't knock it" about acupuncture in the near future. But first I want to write about the dietary suggestions that my acupuncturist gave me.
After a few sessions, my aching, supposedly arthritic neck was feeling much better. However, it seemed that as my spine improved, other problems were emerging. For one thing, I was suddenly acutely aware of the way I clench my jaw almost 100% of the time, and the constant headache this habit promotes.
Also, my ability to eat tons of really spicy or unhealthy food was diminishing. One day when Megan asked about how things were going, I told her about how after eating a bowl of super hot lentil soup I started to feel weak and dizzy about half an hour later, and had to go lay down in the "quiet room" at my corporate job until I felt halfway normal. "But I always eat tons of hot food!" I protested, embarrassed about my weakness.
Megan didn't seem surprised at all by this turn of events. She explained that the whole acupuncture process is like peeling an onion--layer by layer, you get past one issue, but then discover something new. As my body was coming into balance, it was suddenly also unable to tolerate some of things it was previously accustomed to--in this case, super hot foods.
"Have we talked about diet stuff?" she asked me. We hadn't, and she printed me a list of dietary recommendations that were meant to help treat my general condition, which translates to "damp heat." (I won't go into the diagnosis right now. You can google it, but don't expect to get a precise definition.) Megan made it clear that these were only suggestions, and that she wasn't suggesting that I implement them all right away "or else." Basically, I think she was just suggesting that I be more mindful about what I was eating, while keeping the suggestions in mind.
Although I am opposed to diets, I'm in favor of eating stuff that might make me feel better, so I decided I would try to implement at least some of the suggestions. Here are the things that were on the "avoid" list:
- Dairy products
- Fruit and fruit juices
- Ice water
- Cold or raw foods
- Coffee
- Deep fried, greasy foods
- Sugars and sweets
- Rich foods
But I tried to stay positive, and turned to the "good" list. Good stuff included soup (broth, not cream), lightly cooked vegetables (especially sweet potatoes, squash, carrots, asparagus, celery and bean spouts), aduki beans, white fish, green tea and rice. This was okay, but not great.
Nevertheless, I decided to make some changes. I dutifully made green tea every morning instead of the sweet, milky coffee beverage I was used to. I made some bland soup out of beans, carrots and sweet potatoes and took it to work three days in row for lunch. I ate brown rice and vegetables for dinner. It was totally boring, but I have to admit, physically, I felt pretty good.
I fell of the wagon a few times, and tried to notice if I felt any different. One Saturday morning I was running late to dance class and had some coffee instead of brewing up my green tea. I felt nauseated right after I finished it, although I was loathe to admit it. I like to drink coffee; green tea is so wan.
Still, I couldn't deny that the changes were making me feel better. But as I became more accustomed to my bland new diet, I noticed something else--my usually massive appetite was diminishing. It was a revelation--of course, I realized, who wants to gorge on totally boring food?
Soon I found myself eating only half of my lunch of brown rice, carrots, black beans and spinach. It just wasn't interesting to eat a ton of that stuff. I was starting to feel like a chick with an eating disorder. "Oh, I couldn't possibly eat another bite!" Dainty eaters have always disgusted me--I didn't want to become one of them.
Earlier tonight I went to a Vietnamese restaurant with my parents. I ordered a Vietnamese salad with shrimp, and it was just terrible. A bunch of the stuff that's usually in those salads was missing (cucumbers, herbs, bean sprouts), so it basically amounted to a limp pile of noodles on top of some shredded lettuce, all topped with shrimp that was doused in a sweet, gloopy sauce. I did my best to eat a polite amount (I didn't want my parents to think I some Asian restaurant snob, which is what was actually going on), but I just couldn't bring myself to make a significant dent in the meal.
My dad asked me twice if liked my salad. I lied and said yes. I could tell he had noticed that I had barely eaten anything. I probably should have just told the truth--that the food grossed me out because it tasted like it had been marinated in maple syrup. But I didn't, so my mom will probably decide that I have an eating disorder again, and start inviting me out for ice cream sundaes all the time.
