Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Just A Prick Will Do The Trick

As you know, I am obsessed with trying different diets and I love depriving myself of delicious foods for short periods of time until I am ready to scratch my eyes out. Last week, Anthony came home with a book that his co-worker swears by called 'Eat Right For Your Type' that gives you a specific diet pertaining to your blood type. Now of course I was all over it, immediately texting my mom asking her what type I was. She didn't know and probably thought I was crazy for asking her because it's just not the type of text you normally get from your daughter. After an unsuccessful email to my doctor (who knew it was so hard to get your blood type?), Anthony and I decided to order a blood type test on Amazon because low and behold, he didn't know his type either.

After reading the book and hoping I was maybe Type O and not Type A because certain foods like pickles, sauerkraut, meat and mangoes were on the 'poison' list (WTF?), the tests arrived in the mail. I wanted to wait for Anthony so we could do it together (sweet, I know) but he told me to rip open the box and take mine first. After attempting to read the directions, I was still scratching my head, so I watched a You Tube tutorial video. In the video, a girl was demonstrating how to do the test on her friend aka the unsuspecting victim. After I saw him get really nervous the moment before she pricked his finger and heard him let out a scream after she did so, I was starting to sweat. I did all of the steps leading up to the prick and began pacing around the kitchen. I didn't want to do it to myself but I already put the water drops on the test so the clock was counting down. I had no choice, I had to do it. I twisted open the cap on the needle device thingy (it looked like the device that people with diabetes use to prick their finger) and of course it snapped in the wrong direction and broke. Shit! I attempted to take it apart and tried to prick my finger as instructed but got scared and barely touched my finger before I screamed. After sweating and pacing some more, I called Anthony for backup. He said I could do it so I tried it again. So I tried again with the busted device but I couldn't pull the trigger. So I got a sewing needle, sterilized it and tried to stab my finger. Nope, it just wasn't happening. Think, Erin, think!

How was I going to make myself bleed without seriously hurting myself? I thought about how I sometimes nicked my cuticles and made myself bleed when doing my nails so I got my tool out and began to 'cut my cuticles.' It worked but only a teeny tiny drop of blood came out. I was standing over the test, squeezing every last drop of blood out of the my cuticle literally and finally got what I needed to complete the test. And of course, from what I could tell, I was Type A. Shit!!! NO MORE PICKLES??? I was starting to convince myself that the book was a scam and there was no medical backup to prove this guy's theory. I could do without the no meat aspect of this diet but there was no way I could survive without pickles. Of course when Anthony got home, he opened his blood type test up and did it faster than I could put a band aid on my cuticle. He made it look so easy! He was also Type A which provoked double speculation and after we discovered the book was written and 1996 and Anthony read all the backlash online (things that could have been brought to my attention yesterday!) we shrugged and I ate a giant dill pickle.

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