What I ate a lot of this week
I ate peanut butter toast for breakfast this week.
It’s been a long time since I’ve done that.
It used to be all that I would eat for breakfast. Apparently, I was an anxious kindergartner. I was always a little afraid of my bus driver, Mrs. Hymie. I stopped being scared of her eventually, maybe by third or fourth grade? I’m sure she actually was a very kind woman. But as a five-year-old? She was imposing.
So according to family lore, I didn’t want to eat in the mornings before heading off to the bus. My mom, concerned about this, took me to the doctor who asked, “What will she eat?”
“Peanut butter toast?” my mom replied.
“Problem solved,” the doctor said.
And so it was.
This week I had peanut butter toast again. I woke up early in the week with a stomach and digestive system that were not feeling so good. I somehow scored an appointment with my doctor on Thursday, and she declared that I was suffering from a boring case of gastroenteritis, commonly known as the stomach flu (although it is not actually flu at all). The treatment? To eat very differently from the way I normally eat, which made a lot of sense, since the salads I had earlier in the week were not making their way through my system in a friendly way. My doctor reminded me of the BRAT diet, which medical folks sometimes recommend when you’re feeling amiss in the stomach region. It’s made up of simple foods like bananas, rice, applesauce, toast.
True, crunchy peanut butter is possibly not part of the BRAT diet. But bananas and toast? They absolutely are. So that is what I’ve been enjoying this week. I have to say that I am enjoying it.
Years ago, I was able to lose a little weight following the South Beach Diet, one that limited carbohydrates and focused on protein and healthy fats. Since then, I’ve pretty much eliminated bread, rice, and pasta from my diet, except for special occasions. This week, though? I’ve enjoyed a parade of carbohydrates, every meal, all the time. I am starting to feel a little better—though still a little tired. I think that’s normal after the week that was.
It makes me realize, though, that it might not be such a terrible thing to bring peanut butter toast back into my life on an occasional basis. There was something so comforting about it this week. It helped me remember those breakfasts at home many years ago, our toaster in the corner of the kitchen, the bread that lived next to it—and my mom who loved me, took me to the doctor, and let me eat peanut butter toast for breakfast for years, because it was just fine.
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