Archive for May, 2009

Bless that Chiropractor

I recently took a trip to the chiropractor.  It was my first visit, so they did some routine check-up type things, including a zinc test.  I wasn’t too worried about this test, or so I thought.  This test works by me swishing some stuff around in my mouth for thirty seconds or until it starts getting a metallic flavor.  If I have enough zinc in my system, it should have started tasting metallic — but apparently, I had none, for as I swished and swished and the nurse kept looking up at me expectantly, and I was beginning to mentally yell at my taste buds to work — but alas, I failed.

So, I went on a quest to find out what zinc has to do with anything and how I can get more of it without having to take an easy-way-out multivitamin.  Quite frankly, I’d rather eat what I’m supposed to and not have to depend on pills to survive.  But anyway, turns out that I can blame my zinc defficiency on a lot of crap that I’ve been going through, such as this awful funk I was in last Tuesday or Wednesday, which was NOT aided by the fact that I am still jobless and beginning to resign myself to the fact that I will be sucked back to Dragon Hill for yet another summer of making only enough money to pay for books and some groceries for one semester.  According to Dr. Ben Kim, zinc is key in maintaining mental and emotional balance.

Perhaps my younger brother could use more zinc in his diet.

Anyway, you get zinc from beef, lima beans, eggs, and basically any other food that has protein, and on a ramen, mac n’ cheese, grilled cheese, peanut butter sandwich, and bananas diet, you don’t get much of any of this.  I got more of it my freshman year, which may also explain why I feel that my freshman year was so much more pleasant than this past year.

So, for now, I’m on a multivitamin and seeing a chiropractor for my bad back, but still doing laundry for my family and handing out wetnaps to anybody who might need one — I have a large stash of them in my over-sized purse right now. 

Nineteen is the new thirty-five, I suppose.


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I hate moving out. It’s a pain. Especially when you’re the last of your roommates to move out and you get to deal with all the stuff they didn’t want to pack or forgot. Pleh.

That is all.

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