December 21, 2005

A while ago, as part of my weight loss/health kick, I gave up coffee. It was tough at first, and only become marginally easier. Mornings were OK, as breakfast usually provided me with the pick-me-up to get me through to lunch time, but the afternoons were a bitch.

I’m not entirely sure why I gave up coffee. I knew it wasn’t the best thing in the world for me, but I wasn’t doing this to live like a Monk — it was supposed to be about getting my weight down to 100 kilograms.

After a while I got sick denying myself, so I joined the four o’clock office pilgrimage down to the Cafe a few times each week. The effects were a little unfortunate — without fail, I’d be running for the toilet within half an hour of starting the coffee, taking the seat for five or ten minutes as my body passed the drink through my digestive system just as quickly as I’d put it in.

I persisted, thinking my body just needed time to remember how to handle coffee, but after three or so weeks of Cappuccinos and Lattes, it just wasn’t getting any better. That’s when I thought I’d try my old favourite — the Long Macchiato. No reaction from my bowels whatsoever. For some reason, it seems that the reaction between the coffee and the milk was sending my bowels into a fit.


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