A salty story

Table salt and peppercorns.
Image via Wikipedia

Salt has become my enemy. Eat chinese food, gain three pounds. Eat salty food of any sort, gain weight. This wouldn’t be so awful, if, after abstaining for a few days, the weight would return to where I left off. But no, the salt seems to be salting itself away under my skin, leaving unwanted new avoirdupois behind.

But wait, there’s more. Not only does salt make you gain water (and other) weight, salt is bad for your blood pressure. It’s bad for your heart.  It’s just one more way of pouring salt in your wounds.

At one time, salt was considered a good thing. The spice trade and much of human history and development depended on salt for dehydrating and preserving foods– not to mention making them taste good. What would the Food Channel be without chefs sprinkling salt & pepper on every recipe. Whole gourmet foodiness is built around fancy salts from French salt, to grey salt to good old Kosher salt. What would a margarita rim be without salt?  So many cliches were built around it. Salt of the earth. A good salt. Salting some money away. A salty tongue.

I like salt but, unfortunately, it likes me back way too  much. My rings grow tight, my face gets puffy and my dirty, rotten miserable scale snickers nasty news whenever I’ve indulged.

So, that’s my salty tale for today.  My assault on salt is to cut back, to live a less salty life. But I’m not cutting back on chocolate no matter what. That’s where I draw the line in the sand.

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