2/17/03
Am I addicted to my fiber laxative?
At 36 I would say that I'm far too young to be taking a fiber laxative. Yet, for some reason, I bought a big plastic jar of the stuff about a month ago. I've been drinking a tablespoon of it mixed with a glass of water most every day since.
I won't describe what this new daily ritual has meant to me except to say there has been a noticeable and (for the most part) positive change in my excretory routine. In fact, I even went so far as to purchase fiber laxative wafers to take with me while I'm traveling. In retrospect, this may have not been a good idea considering some difficulties I had in Las Vegas. However a greasy cheese omelet from Nathan's Famous may have been the culprit in the particular situation to which I'm referring.
I think I'm mainly concerned with the fact that I bought a jar of this stuff to begin with. After all, I've usually got a big box of Raisin Bran waiting in the pantry. I'm fairly sure a daily dose of it would have the same effect as the gritty, orange flavored fiber stuff without the residual notion that my next stop will be an assisted living facility.
It all boils down to me being an excellent consumer. I like to buy things simply for the sake of buying them. Although I know full well that there are other forces, mainly deployed by massive quantities of TV during my formative years, at work.
If I want to get in shape, I know that I can make it happen by purchasing a set of weights. I know that the quality of time I spend with Allie will be enriched if I buy the latest attachment for her Playdough Fun Factory. I know Deb and I will make time to sit down together to watch a new DVD. Pig will stop vomiting all over our carpet if we buy her re-formulated Science Diet. We can help you (long distance family and friends) feel closer to us (Greg, Deb, Allie and Player to be Named Later) if I buy a new camcorder and post more photos and movies.
See, I know the secret of happiness. I knew it by the time I was six-years-old. Ed McMahon clued me in during the commercial break as he poured an ice cold Budweiser before my eyes.
This is why when I go grocery shopping I go up and down every aisle. I know there's something sitting on a shelf that will make a tastier meal thereby increasing the amount of love my family has for me. I do the same thing at Wal-Mart. That's how I wound up with the jar of fiber supplement (notice the subtle shift from fiber laxative to fiber supplement). I looked at all the vitamins and creams and elixirs and decide that I had to have something to improve my physical being. The truth is, I probably was a tad constipated and didn't really even realize it except on a subconscious level. It was just the push I needed to pick the jar up off the shelf and place it in my basket (artfully hidden beneath the paper towels I had gone to the store for in the first place).
Now that I think about it, I've got an entire museum exhibit full of artifacts acquired via my reckless consumer behavior: Bottles of expired vitamins hidden in the bathroom. Containers of bug and tar remover in the garage. Extra batteries of every shape and size cluttering the junk drawer. Unread books stacked in my nightstand. A Cajun seasoning injector. Pens. More pens. A really cool pen with a rubber grip. Workout schedule books. I swear we must have a Salad Shooter. I bet Deb would deny it, but if we looked in the basement there's one buried in a box next to the water heater.
So, the question is, do I want to continue this behavior or take this opportunity to evaluate what's truly important and focus more on those things?
I know the answer.
I want to focus on the things that are truly important. But I want to do it from the seat of my new car.