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Wednesday, March 25, 2015

My secret chemical of choice

I have a little secret.  You know that I'm all organic-y, crunchy, kombucha-ey, granola, making my own deodorant and avoiding chemicals like the bubonic plague...except for one thing.  

I have had many people ask me (and my hubby about me, since they think I am lying?) what my secret little treat is - as if I secretly make organic homemade hummus, but then secretly go scarf down Taco Bell (and Fun Dip).  (Yuck.  I don't.)  I really am not tempted by any quasi-food like substances (they actually give me a migraine and intestinal explosion if I accidentally/unknowingly eat them - yeah, wow, TMI, I know.).  No candy bars, no baked goods, no fast food - nope, none of it appeals to me.   

It's like how most people feel if there was a can of paint or a pile of electronics on your kitchen table.  You would not become hungry at the thought of eating it (well, I mean, I hope not.  If you do, dude, you're messed up.  Might be needing some vital nutrition there somewhere...).  When I see such things, I do not think of them as food, since they are mostly some kind of adulterated chemical substance.  
But it looks so yummy!

I won't even drink normal tap water because of the heavy metals and prescrption drugs that are in it.  Sorry, bro, but I don't want to drink your chemo and hepatitis drugs.  I have a reverse osmosis filter that gets remineralized so I don't strip myself of minerals (since that is what happens to you if you drink R/O plain.).  

I won't use normal cleaning products since they are pretty much guaranteed to be carcinogenic, allergenic, mutagenic nightmares.  I hang out with my awesome Norwex microfiber cloths (with silver) and use just water and clean nearly everything in my house.  

So what on earth could possibly tempt me to the dark side?  

I'll tell you.  It is nearly a lifelong addiction, so you're going to have to just understand.  People have their downfalls, you know.  I can't help it.  You didn't expect me to be perfect, I hope.  Well, good.  

Because I love...well, I love...chlorine.  

Yes, Mr. Hazmat, I know it's dangerous.  I know that the world could pretty much blow up from all the chlorine they store in the dungeons of swimming pools.  But I don't care!  I went swimming today and when I wash my hands and the pleasant and faint scent of chlorine drifts up to my nose, well, I am just going to say it, I like it.  If you have anything to tell me about the horrors of it, well, I'll thank you (very much) to just keep that information to your. self.  When I get in the shower after being in the pool, the whole shower smells of lovely chlorine.  

Swimmers are special.  (Yes, in every special way you can specially think of.)  Sometimes they even take extra crazy pills in the morning and do butterfly after a no breather.  (Seriously?)

Maybe this is slightly confounding.  But maybe you don't stare at a black tiled line on the bottom of the pool for a few hours a week, either.  If you did, you would get it.  Maybe you're the type who thinks that swimmers wear caps to keep their hair dry (um, no.).  If so, maybe you just won't feel me on this one.  

But if you swim because it's in your blood, or if you crave that feeling of all over body tired wonderfulness at the end of practice, or if you race the person in the lane next to you at all times, or if you have strong opinions on no breathers/SKIPS/IM sets/breastroke/200s, or if you've eaten an entire pizza yourself after a good practice (and were still looking for more food - and practice was at 5:30 a.m.), or if you've ever counted over and over again in your head (1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3...), or if you've ever felt exuberant joy at the words, "8 x 25s" at the end of practice, and/or if you're just straight up awesome in general, there is a good chance you are a swimmer and you know what I mean.

Viva, swimmers!  And viva chlorine.  It comes with the territory and I don't want to give it up.  

Plus, I think it really brings out the green in my hair.  

Peace, love, and 100 breastroke 4eva, 
Ms. Daisy

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