Christy Fantz

This is not a column about my husband slamming a baby in my uterus. You wish. That’s a *hot* beef injection. If you buy me a burrito, I’ll tell you about the 65-hour labor sometime while we dip our chips in each other’s salsa.

I recently had an allergy test after 100 years of avoiding foods that swell my throat, plump my lips and make my inner ears suffer an unattainable itch. I’ve learned to avoid the foods that hate me, flush my gullet with water when I splurge on foods I can tolerate and lived an avocado-free life, so stop freaking out that I’ve never had guacamole.

Anyway, after being injected with the juices of several young guys, um, with food and natural elements, I found out that not only am I allergic to everything I already knew I was allergic to, but there were also a couple of surprises. One was dogs, which I don’t want to talk about, and the other was beef.

I stopped eating red meat on Feb. 1, and holy shit, people, my heartburn has nearly stopped.

Well, not completely because I still smoke cigs (somebody deck me in the face), drink wine and huff chloroform, but that’s where omeprazole clocks in. Before I hopped off the cow flesh, on top of already taking the acid-reducing pill daily, I was also eating six to eight Tums, constantly clutching my chest and wincing when I could feel the acid rising up my esophagus.

I thought I had built up a tolerance for Tums after busting into my dad’s stash and shotgunning the whole bottle when I was 3, but really, it was the cow that was killing me. I wanted to test out my hearburn theory. And honestly, red meat never made my granny panties wet.

And now, after watching the new documentary “The Game Changers,” directed by former Boulderite Louie Psihoyos (“The Cove”) — which will make its Colorado premiere at the Boulder International Film Festival at 4:30 p.m. Friday at the Boulder Theater — I may end up telling most of the meats that they are safe from my broken teeth. (I can’t quit the fish, though. Those cute little swimming fools are like black tar heroin when wrapped in seaweed or tortillas.)

The film, which aims to debunk the myth that meat is necessary for protein, tells the stories of elite athletes, weightlifters and bodybuilders who kick ass on a plant-based diet. (Like kick way more ass and have more stamina and energy than carnivores. There’s a strongman who throws kegs like they’re teddy bears for a living. And he has sweet Wolverine mutton chops.)

I usually dramatically eye roll at documentaries that tell me what I should be eating, because if I want a cheeseburger, I want a damn cheeseburger and don’t want to feel bad about it. But since I, myself, am an elite athlete (see: ultracoucher), the film intrigued me. The film is informative without being preachy. So check it out.

Now it’s time for a hot beef injection.

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