On Fat, Cubed

My body does not process sugar. Not because I am a diabetic (which I am not) but because I have a ketogenic metabolism. My body runs on ketones made from fatty acids, triglycerides converted in the liver, instead of relying on glucose and combative insulin spikes. A body can only run on either ketones or glucose; one cannot use both as a primary fuel simultaneously.

A body is picky.

A body that runs on ketones must pause ketosis and shift its metabolic strategy once glucose is introduced. Metabolism, whether glucose-driven or ketone-driven, must pause whenever alcohol enters the body. Alcohol is its own nutrient category because it is not a protein nor a carbohydrate nor a fat, but just an ethyl. It is, more so, like a toxin that needs special removal.

A body adapts.

My body does not run on glucose and so I cannot eat sugar; fruit; grains; starch. If I ingest a carbohydrate in any form (an organic apple, a slice of whole wheat bread, a Snickers bar) it breaks down into glucose and my mind slowly melts like grey caramel, or inedible wax, at the speed at which the glucose raises my blood sugar.

A body is an automated Rube Goldberg machine, with no engineers and no user's manual.

If I eat sugar, my body cannot process it and my mind slowly melts. First my head fills with liquid latex, then my tongue becomes a slug, sedated in syrup. If I sugar, my body can - not slowly melts. My head becomes a hollow lead orb adrift at sea, filling in with sloshing density as it floats, lamely. If sugar, I ca - not, slowm - mm s .

I was born on the same day as declared Independence and Rube Goldberg, but despite our differences in years we are still Cancers.

A body is a machine, independent or not.