It started innocently.
Someone said the words “inflammatory industrial byproduct” in reference to canola oil, and I never recovered.
I wasn’t looking for a new personality. I was just trying to make a salad dressing.
But once you learn what’s in most restaurant fryers, you don’t unlearn it.
And suddenly, you’re different.
the awakening
For most of my life, oil was just… oil.
It came in a bottle. It went in a pan. It did not require a moral position.
Then one day, the algorithm decided I needed to know about seed oils.
Now I know about hexane.
Now I know about processing temperatures.
Now I know that “vegetable oil” is not a vegetable.
And now I cannot sit in a casual dining establishment without thinking about oxidation.
This is not how I wanted to live.
the phase
First, I removed canola oil from my kitchen.
Then soybean.
Then “blend.”
Then anything that required clarification.
Suddenly I was standing in Whole Foods holding a bottle of avocado oil like it was a security blanket.
I began asking questions.
“What oil do you cook with?”
I said it calmly.
I meant it aggressively.
the problem
The real issue isn’t the oil.
It’s what happens after you cut it out.
You start reading labels.
You start noticing patterns.
You start questioning why everything says “heart healthy” in bold while containing five ingredients you can’t pronounce.
You start wondering what else you’ve been casually consuming without consent.
You develop trust issues.
Not dramatic ones.
Just quiet, well-researched ones.
the social consequences
There’s nothing quite like declining fries because you “don’t do seed oils.”
You watch people enjoy their appetizers. You sip sparkling water. You calculate fryer temperature in your head.
You try to act normal.
You are not normal.
At some point, someone says, “It’s just oil.”
And you nod.
But internally, you have a PowerPoint.
am i better now?
Maybe.
I cook more.
I read more labels.
I feel marginally less inflamed and significantly more suspicious.
But I also know too much.
Every menu is now a guessing game.
Every “lightly fried” item feels like a test.
I didn’t mean to become this person.
I just wanted to avoid something that didn’t feel great in my body.
Instead, I gained a personality trait and mild paranoia.
the quiet truth
Cutting out seed oils didn’t ruin my life.
It just made me aware.
Aware of ingredients.
Aware of processing.
Aware that “natural” doesn’t mean anything.
And once you’re aware, you can’t unknow it.
So yes, I cut out seed oils.
And now I ask questions.
And sometimes I miss fries.
But mostly, I just read the label and nod to myself like I’m in on something.
Which, unfortunately, I am.