For the past few months, I’ve been on a health kick, which is a euphemism for “trying to lose weight.” And I’m doing it! I’m not done yet, but is one ever done in this thing called life? Don’t we all get suckered in by “after” photos, like there’s ever an “after,” really? Besides, I’m a post-menopausal woman, it’s not like at some point I can just say, well, that’s that! And eat a sundae the size of my desk.

At any rate, I’m deep in my journey. And I’ve found that focusing on my health (weight) has made me … colossally stupid. I track my food on an app and I have this other app that shows the graph of my weight journey and I stare at both these apps all day, oh and I have another app for strength training, there’s that app too, and anyway I flit among these three apps and my brain is as light and fluffy as meringue. (Maybe it actually literally is? I don’t think you want a dense brain? Anyway.) The only knowledge I have in there is the protein-to-calorie ratio of various foodstuffs. asked me the other day about protein and I replied to her by basically downloading the contents of my brain into a series of texts until she begged me to stop (read: said “thanks!”).

But seriously, if you try to get as much protein as the experts say you should get, that’s a full-time job of poaching chicken breasts and cramming low-fat cottage cheese into your maw. And it turns out, I’m pretty good at it! If I sacrifice my entire creative life, that is. No more writing or art for me, sorry, I’m too busy getting swole!