It's January 13th. Your new year's resolution was to eat well/exercise more/lose weight. You've been eating lots of kale and quinoa, grilling chicken breasts and having them with spinach and brown rice, and your feet hurt from breaking in those new running shoes. It's all very exciting right now, we know, but please don't tell the world about your new diet. Because you know what? The world doesn't care.
"No, no, but it is important for everyone to know!" you say to me. No. No it's not. We don't care that you're not eating carbs anymore, we don't care that you cut out gluten, we don't care that you're one of the many eating like a caveman (really, people? like a caveman???), we don't care that you're a raw foodist. We really don't care that you're doing the Master Cleanse (enjoy that cayenne pepper/lemon juice/maple syrup drink existence!), or the Cabbage Soup diet (your apartment is going to smell fantastic). We don't care that your special diet is going to clear up our skin, or get rid of our headaches, or make our hair grow.
We want you to stop talking about the obesity epidemic, or how Americans really eat too much protein, or too much salt, or too much processed food. We know that Michael Pollan has 64 rules for eating and you're following every one, you just don't need to list them all for us (we all already read The Omnivore's Dilemma, we got it). Stop telling us how many "points" you've eaten so far today, and really stop telling us many points are in this latte, or this tangerine, or this cupcake that I'm lovingly about to eat. Stop looking at my lunch hungrily, and then proceed to explain to me how horrible refined flour is for you.
Most of all, please spare us when you have the "I broke my diet!" panic because you had a few french fries from someone else's plate at lunch, or a cookie that someone brought into the office. Don't lament to us that you exercised only four times this week instead of six and your trainer is going to KILL you. We're just going to roll our eyes at you for spoiling the deliciousness that is a nice cookie with guilt, and wonder how quickly we can disengage ourselves from that conversation. Because do you know what all of that talk is? Boring, that's what it is.
Don't get me wrong, I love food, and I love talking about food. For part of your diet, did you find a great new recipe for roasted brussels sprouts? Please share, I'm all ears! (This is mine, though some bacon tossed in there is always excellent, and lemon juice makes a nice change from the vinegar). Did you discover a bakery that makes an amazing multi-grain bread? Lead me to it. Did you find the vendor at the farmer's market who has the very best grapefruits? I'd love it if you shared your secret! Did you find a fantastic new yoga class that makes you sweat and feel relaxed? Tell me all about it. Those things are all interesting! But a long discourse about your diet, and lists of things that you can't do and that you can't eat interest no one but yourself. So please, when you're opening your mouth to tell me that actually, celery has negative calories, just stop, think about how boring that is, and don't.