Doctor’s Prescription in Spain: More Meat, More Wine, More Fat, More Excitement(2)
Red meat, eh? How often does someone get to hear that at their doctor’s appointment after spending the last few days eating red meat right off the grill?
“Oh, and let’s talk drugs. Do you do any hash, ecstasy, marijuana?”
Jaw agape, eyes bulging, I look at her speechless, while the sound of crickets chirp around me. “Um, excuse me?”
“Okay, well if you do smoke marijuana, we prefer that you grow your own. Lot’s of the drugs are laced these days, and we’d rather have you smoke something pure than filled with harmful chemicals. Also, no tobacco. Smoke pot, but please avoid tobacco.”
WHAT?????? Grow my own? Where am I? Oh yeah, I’m in Spain! The land of the siesta, cerveza and two plant maximum per person by law.
“Other drugs, such as alcohol?”
“Well, I do own a wine company, so yes, I do drink a fair amount.”
“What are we talking about? One glass, two glasses per night?”
Weighing my options on how I want to answer her, I respond, “well, typically, one per day, but sometimes a bit more.”
“Okay, dear, well let’s say you have 2 glasses at 6 ounces per glass. That gives you about 14 glasses per week, which is well under what you allotted amount. So if you want to drink more, please do so. For a woman of your size, we suggest 17 glasses as normal.”
This is where my grin starts sneaking up on me and hasn’t gone away since, as this woman just told me to eat more red meat, smoke more pot and drink more wine. Even the USDA suggests I par down to 5 oz per day as a normal serving, but 3x that amount! I’d have to work at it to reach the Spanish level, and irony is that Spaniards don’t drink. I’ve rarely run into Spanish woman who partakes in more than a glass of wine on the weekend, not even talking about the week filled with water as the main staple.
“Oh, and ‘guapa’ (Spanish version of ‘honey’) you’re blood pressure is a bit too low and you may want to consider gaining a kilo or two as you’re a little petite.”
At the rate this woman was going, I was fully prepared for her to tell me that my ass was too tight, my breasts were too big, and I ought to increase the stress of my life just to increase my blood pressure.
“You know that low blood pressure can lead to fainting spells. So maybe let’s get some more excitement in your life.”
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that running your own business in a foreign country, while learning their customs, language and laws wasn’t stressful enough. I’ll be sure to hype that up a bit by getting pregnant just to increase my ‘excitement’ level.
Walking out of the office into the blaring hot Spanish sun, I felt strange like the kid who was told to eat a bucket full of ice cream, a box of juju bees and a gallon of coke, all while jumping up on down on your parent’s bed with your muddy shoes on. I felt guilty that I didn’t want to down a few bottles of wine with a thick, raw sirloin, a large slice of brie and a bowl of chocolate truffles, ending in smokey haze from my enormous joint; craving only a plate of grilled vegetables, a slice of melon and a glass of sherry.
And despite the fact that her news didn’t send me dancing freely in the streets, she did place a permanent smile on my face that hasn’t left me ever since; which I will promptly follow up with a glass of Vinho Verde red and a long stroll in the park.
