Yesterday I received a startling reminder of how much I take my Pu for granted. Normally I send tea-mail straight to the Junk box, but I got this one from Misty Peaks.
I guess this email ploy got me thinking, and reading, because further into the email I found those oft-repeated lines:
Pu'er tea has been consumed for centuries as its benefits are many, most notably the benefits that counteract the negative impact of the foods we consume. Excess fat, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and a whole host of ailments that are linked to dietary habits are literally curable with Pu'er tea. [more Actual Email]
Now while I always make certain that my friends benefit from the wisdom I gain from shopping online, the Misty Peaks email reminds me that I’m still waiting for it to happen.
I can check off all of the above. Excess fat, well okay, I still can’t get into my St. John suit and the wool is starting to get a little bit brittle which really bothers me because I put that suit on layaway the week I started my PhD studies, and picked it up the day I turned in my dissertation four years later. High blood pressure, my friends seem to think I talk about nothing else, and of course I am sure to mention how much longer I spent puking on Lisonopril than anyone else I know (2 years). And then we have high cholesterol. That one is particularly annoying because after three years of fish pills and six years of drinking puerh tea, my cholesterol has not dropped a single point.
An important consideration to mention is that none of the above are my fault whatsoever. My nice flat tummy got ruined with an 11 lb 1 ½ oz baby at the age of 26 with saggy skin, a belly, stretch marks and a scar about 10 inches long from top to bottom which apparently they needed to cut trying to get the boy out. And the high blood pressure from that whole ordeal never went away. An arts producer man toy friend of mine put it nicely in bed once. “Well, you came by it honestly,” he said, at a particularly weak point in my womanly confidence, and for which I remembered him so fondly in the years after he went to prison for mail fraud that I almost wrote a letter to thank him.
The email from Misty Peaks reminds me that Puerh Tea friggin' owes me. I’m owed exactly one blond-haired, busty, round blue eyes babe looking back at me in the mirror, and right now too. Because I’m seriously tired of avoiding Doritos more than three times a week and focusing my precious attention on “dietary habits” that I know for a fact I don’t have, all in the hopes that puerh tea is actually going to do what it is supposed to do.
I even started a blog with the idea that when the Miracle arises, I can inform my fellow tea heads and inspire hope among the masses so they too can achieve the body they are destined to own. If I were dishonest, I could go along with the lies and report that indeed I have achieved my busty blonde body with the help of Dizzy Pu Shu. After all I haven’t posted my real photo online before, and who would actually know the difference anyway? Nothing is stopping me from joining the Instagram spammers selling tea with my own half naked photo which nobody needs to know isn’t actually mine. In fact, I could quit this job I’m trying to work and market myself as a revelation a la “Fatso” and “Fast Food Nation” and “Super Size Me,” eschewing the Juicer that no Pu freak would seriously have in the kitchen taking up valuable tea ware space. Yes, the Gaiwan is a Girl’s Best Friend.
All this, people, is my gods given mission, and I am ready right now to begin my Tea Ministry to the world, preaching the gospel according to Pu. Why isn’t it working? I drink pitchers and pitchers of puerh tea and haven’t lost a single pound. You’d think after six whole years of guzzling this stuff and shopping for the best leaf at every opportunity, taking advantage of every sale of course, that somewhere along the way I might pee out at least one pound of Fat, one point off my blood pressure, and ten points off my lipid count, but nope. Not one single result to report. My family sacrifices and survives on peanut butter every single day and even went without Christmas last year just so Mother can buy her Tea. And “literally” cure her health problems. They are praying that someday my kitchen table might actually have room for people to eat real food and they can have macaroni and cheese instead of sandwiches.
Just so we are clear on the facts, I own at least 200 grams of Misty Peaks tea, in case anyone is wondering if I bought the right tea to begin with. I got half of it with my own hard earned money, and the cake was supposed to be spring tea but really wasn’t, and the rest I got from tea swapping. This tea rests in a dedicated vintage crock, so I haven’t polluted it with someone else’s stinky brick. I’ve treated it better than my cat. After all, the tea tastes pretty good. Maybe the autumn version doesn’t have the miraculous properties of real spring tea, but I clicked “Buy” on good faith, I did. The tea tastes good, and maybe that’s the problem. Maybe the real results with tea come from Dayi and Xiaguan because if you read TeaChat long enough that’s the only conclusion you can draw, and in that case I’ll admit I drank the Poundcake and don’t deserve my 38 double Ds that you dear readers are waiting so patiently to see. And I know Size 0 is meant to be. The Rapture. My Rapture.
But in the meantime, I’m still waiting for it to happen.
Requiescat in Pace. Sigh.
Requiescat in Pace. Sigh.