So the saying goes. Maybe another way to say it is be careful what you eat.
As we get older our tastes change or maybe it is out tolerance for a certain kind of pain changes. A young man’s fancy and folly are closely related. It seemed like a great idea to eat those 24 suicide chicken wings, really it did. Who cares if it hurt your friends watched your folly with mixed admiration and realization that you were brave but they call them suicide wings for a reason.
And then like some foody hangover you endure a night of suffering usually alone, usually not by choice. You wake up the next day and make light of your bravery and retell the story as if it is on par with an Olympic contest of some sort.
Maturity brings a new realization that what you once could endure to stoke your ego is nothing more than eating hot food that causes your body to protest vehemently. Face it your young adult kids are no longer impressed…they are out there searching for their own suicide wings.
Yeah I am careful what I eat now, except last night. An old friend was in town. We ate Indian food. I always let him order because frankly he is Malyasian and knows the food. He knows my tolerance. So I ate the rice, the multiple strange sauces, the goat all good. It was the fish balls that got me. I took one and dipped it in what I unconsciously thought was seafood sauce. No this was concentrated, magnified accelerant called hot sauce. As one my favorite comedian says about Indian food..there his hot and there is (insert scream).
It was a restless night with dreams of the indescribable sort; kind of like the Ali Baba meets Pepto Bismal.
So I relearn you are what you eat. I am considering what brave approach to adopt at work as I retell the water cooler story and whether I ought to put a sign on my door:: enter at your own risk.
Hope you digest this post and learn from my folly.