I know, I know. I picked on food blogs a couple of posts ago. Out of fairness to those blogs I thought I’d try my hand at it. Thing is, I cook but I’m not creative enough to put together masterpieces and take gorgeous, stylized photos of them. But it struck me how funny sometimes this midlife thing can be. So I wrote a food blog post about it.
I woke up one day and realized my 43-year-old body can’t eat the way my 17-year-old body did and maintain any degree of regularity. Moreover, I realized I never really thought about it or cared until I hit my 40s. Suddenly it mattered. I’m still too stubborn to use a fiber drink of any kind on a regular basis. It’s like being bossed around by my own body. But my husband makes a glass of this stuff every night and swears by it, and every now and then I find a need to sweet talk him into making me a glass, too. I know if I ate more green things my body would probably function far better. And I realize there are other options, like psyllium fiber or Citrucel. But I like Metamucil: it reminds me of Tang and for a split-second I feel like I could be an astronaut. If I weren’t afraid of outer space. If you don’t know what Tang is, you’re probably young enough to be my kid and you’re reading the wrong blog.
In keeping with the food blog way of doing things, here are pictures I took of my husband expertly making a glass of Metamucil:
Fill a glass with 8 ounces of room temperature or slightly tepid water. Or don’t fill it, just get 8 ounces in it. 8 ounces might not actually fill your glass. If you go overboard you’ll water it down. If the water is too cold the Metamucil won’t dissolve well and if it’s too warm, well, it’ll just be gross.
Pick your spoon. You will need a tablespoon. Not a perfect little measuring spoonful, you need an “old-school” tablespoon. That’s right – grab the big one that nobody ever uses.
- Step 3:
“Measure” out a heaping tablespoon of Metamucil.
- Step 4:
Carefully pour the Metamucil into the glass. Dump it in too fast and you get big, icky lumps floating on top. Dribble it in too slowly and you get chunks at the bottom.
Stir like a crazy person. Get it as dissolved as you possibly can. If the dogs haven’t figured out we’re cooking Metamucil up to this point, the clinking of spoon in glass does it.
Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap your spoon on the side of the glass. I’m not really sure what this step is for, actually.
Recall those beer-swilling days of your youth and chug-a-lug, darlin’! Can you get it all down in one breath? If you stirred hard enough and drink it quickly enough you’ll avoid all that grit people gripe about.