Yesterday I read this article about eating placenta.
First, let's start off by saying that I read this by chance, someone on my Facebook had linked to it for some reason. I was not, on my own, thinking about eating placenta. Not that I haven't thought of it though. I've thought about it a decent amount. Mostly when I think about vegans it comes to mind because I heard that vegans will eat placenta because it's the only meat that comes from life and not death, or something like that. Anyway, I always thought it sounded weird. But then I read this article and I started to think it sounded kind of cool! Maybe I'm getting too open minded for my own good. It also helped that I started thinking that it was sort of being like a cannibal in a way, except less creepy because it's like eating human meat but you didn't have to kill a human for it. And in fact, you produce it yourself! Amazing! I could eat my own self and my kid at once! WOAH! Mind blowing.
I mean, also, according to that article it's amazingly healthy and somehow energizing just just crazily powerful stuff. I'm surprised there aren't mass marketed placenta pills at this point. I mean, some people don't have kids, and who really wants to start cookin' up their placenta days after giving birth? I decided to myself that I would try to save my placenta if I could find myself some sort of master chef who would cook it for me and present it to me in a tasty dish. Maybe like deep fried placenta with hot wing sauce or like a steak with cheese and mushrooms on top. It's starting to sound amazing! And then I won't have postpartum depression and I'll produce copious amounts of breast milk for my hypothetical baby to enjoy!
So, in my head, this was sounded basically like my perfect feast after giving birth and I was pretty stoked. Until I got it in my head to Google Image Search "placenta."
Worst. Idea. Ever.
I am not eating that shit. Ever. Even if I made it myself and it came out of my own body, was incredibly clean, cooked by a master chef and presented to me by Taylor Hanson wearing a classy waiter suit. Never. Ever. Going to happen. I'd rather eat a life-size wax statue of Barbara Walters.
First, let's start off by saying that I read this by chance, someone on my Facebook had linked to it for some reason. I was not, on my own, thinking about eating placenta. Not that I haven't thought of it though. I've thought about it a decent amount. Mostly when I think about vegans it comes to mind because I heard that vegans will eat placenta because it's the only meat that comes from life and not death, or something like that. Anyway, I always thought it sounded weird. But then I read this article and I started to think it sounded kind of cool! Maybe I'm getting too open minded for my own good. It also helped that I started thinking that it was sort of being like a cannibal in a way, except less creepy because it's like eating human meat but you didn't have to kill a human for it. And in fact, you produce it yourself! Amazing! I could eat my own self and my kid at once! WOAH! Mind blowing.
I mean, also, according to that article it's amazingly healthy and somehow energizing just just crazily powerful stuff. I'm surprised there aren't mass marketed placenta pills at this point. I mean, some people don't have kids, and who really wants to start cookin' up their placenta days after giving birth? I decided to myself that I would try to save my placenta if I could find myself some sort of master chef who would cook it for me and present it to me in a tasty dish. Maybe like deep fried placenta with hot wing sauce or like a steak with cheese and mushrooms on top. It's starting to sound amazing! And then I won't have postpartum depression and I'll produce copious amounts of breast milk for my hypothetical baby to enjoy!
So, in my head, this was sounded basically like my perfect feast after giving birth and I was pretty stoked. Until I got it in my head to Google Image Search "placenta."
Worst. Idea. Ever.
I am not eating that shit. Ever. Even if I made it myself and it came out of my own body, was incredibly clean, cooked by a master chef and presented to me by Taylor Hanson wearing a classy waiter suit. Never. Ever. Going to happen. I'd rather eat a life-size wax statue of Barbara Walters.
