As we were discussing our daughters’ fierce food requirements when they come to visit, my friend, Pat revealed that she feels the same way as I do about the wonders of kale.
Pat’s daughter is a vegan and my daughter is very careful about her diet. When these girls come to stay at our respective homes, we grocery shop for them, we cook for them and we try very hard not to make a mistake, insult their food, or give them any excuse to never return.
Each and everyone of you knows that kale is the Super Woman of super food. When you ingest kale, you are creating a vortex of health, wisdom, happiness, hale(ness?) and heartiness throughout your body. Kale will not be denied. It will make all things well in the world, especially in your colon, pancreas, pituitary gland and all those other internal organs you play like a fiddle.
I hate kale. I hate mean girls and I hate kale.
Do not give me recipes for kale. Do not tell me to eat kale chips, kale salad or kale smoothies. I tried. I hate it.
This is where Pat explained to me, that her daughter explained to her, that in order to release the power and joys of kale you need to massage it.
Okay, seriously, I’m done now.
I don’t even know what that means…massage the kale. Do I need massage oil for that? Can instructions be found in the Kalema Sutra?
I’m not massaging my kale. I don’t even massage my husband. If anyone’s getting a massage here it’s me. I will buy non-dairy yogurt, gluten free bread, only shredded Brussels sprouts for the healthy visitors in my house . But even if it makes kale taste like anything from Ben & Jerry’s, I refuse to massage the kale.
Yes, I’m far from perfect. Yes, I eat and drink things that are naughty. And in the interest of full disclosure, I snarfed up all the Easter Candy. left over wedding favors and the real Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in the freezer last night before our daughter came home for a lengthy visit. I say that as a point of pride, not shame (about the food, not my daughter). After all, I was creating a healthy food environment for my house guest, right? Oh, the things we do for company.
As for my personal constitution, all my grandparents lived well into their 90’s and I’m certain that not one of them ever massaged a leafy green vegetable. So I’m good.
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Cathy is the author of Showering with Nana: Confessions of a Serial Caregiver