I spend huge amounts of time thinking about food, so it makes sense that I would draw my latest realization of inadequacy from a meal. On this ordinary day, I have had an epiphany: I want to be as good as my oatmeal.

I go through phases with breakfast food. The latest is a nutrient-rich, bursting-with-vitamins, protein-and-fiber health monster that is worth dozens of hyphenated modifiers. The meal: packet of plain instant oatmeal, fortified with iron (45 percent recommended daily allowance); a big spoonful of plain, no-sugar-added, organic pumpkin (Vitamin A, fiber); little spoonful of hydrogenated-oil-less, all-natural, salmonella-free peanut butter (fat, protein); sliced banana (fiber, protein, Vitamin C, potassium); and cinnamon (metabolism booster). And of course, two or three cups of coffee with skim (protein, more metabolism kick-starting … and dehydration, which I compensate with three cups of water and a multivitamin).

The breakfast covers every food group, takes a few minutes to prepare, dirties few dishes, is frugal and is energy-efficient. It is a roundhouse kick of nutrition. My strongest time is morning, so it makes sense that I’d peak then nutritionally too. I often go downhill fast – wolfing down burritos while I’m driving, caving when there’s free cookies in the teachers’ lounge, eating chips incessantly for a three-day vacation and giving myself heartburn. (True story.) I also have the unfortunate habit of drinking anything that’s in front of me fast, and you can imagine how that can end up. That breakfast is the ideal, the Natalie before stress has had time to interfere and willpower has had time to disintegrate and happy hour has had time to turn into dinner, post-dinner drinks and late night. I wish I could sustain my breakfast mentality all day.

If I were more like my oatmeal, I’d be more positive and well-rounded. I’d be sweet, but not too sweet. I’d be free of all the fake crap and full of what’s good and natural. I’d be sturdy enough to keep people going. I’d trade in flakiness for reliability; flashy accessories for wholesomeness. Instead of being a bad influence (”What’s one more round? Drafts are only $3.”), I’d be good for you. I wouldn’t be a real looker, like omelettes and french toast and McSkillet breakfast burritos, but I’d stand the test of time.

You are what you eat? I should be so lucky.

One Response to “The One Where Natalie Wishes She Were a Bowl of Oatmeal”

1. This Ordinary Day » Thank you Says:
   July 14th, 2009 at 12:02 am

   [...] wasn’t hitting the spot, so a few sips in I switched to milk. Then I craved the comfort of Natalie’s creamy breakfast and made it for dinner. Oatmeal in hand, I curled up on my bed to find an e-mail from my dad with [...]

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