The Culturalist

Dear Culturalist: How Do I Curb the Munchies?

By Onya Ganja

Dear Culturalist: How Do I Curb the Munchies?

Dear Culturalist,
I want to lose weight but I don't want to stop smoking weed. What are your munchie curbing tricks/recipes?

Your first sentence really threw me for a loop. You say it like you will wake up chubby if you smoke two joints a day. Not true, but let the record show I think plump is a good thing, and I’d feel more comfortable if you started framing your desires as “I want to get fit enough to survive the zombie-sharknado-apocalypse.”

You don’t have to stop smoking weed to lose weight. A plant make you fat? Who told you the devil’s lettuce could do this? How can it do this if it also makes you dance uncontrollably? People have been getting round without Mary Jane for as long as humans had more than enough to eat. Find me evidence that suggests a positive correlation between amount of weed smoked and weight gain. When I see the evidence, I will be able to point out how clearly those people were simply not smoking enough pot (Group A) or definitely not the right kind (Group B) and quite possibly too close to a convenience store (Group C). I will address Group A, B and C and answer your questions while I hit my new vape pen and eat an entire bag of gummies bears that I bought for my ex-gf.

Group A’s problems are easily fixed. They just need to smoke more weed. Sure, strain selection is important, but the amount consumed is important, too. If you are high enough, you will not be pursuing food. Additionally, if you are high enough, you won’t remember you went to the kitchen to get more cannabis-infused chocolate mousse. That’s a real thing that just happened to me. Literally my only munchie-curbing-trick is smoking more weed. If you are high enough, you will not be lifting your arms, let alone opening a cupboard or fridge. If you even have a desire to get up in search of food, you simply are not stoned enough. So many questions in life can be answered with: Consume more cannabis. Vape it, smoke it, rub it all over your body. When you’re finally ampily lifted, you will nap, not eat. Smoke more weed. You are not going to walk to the store for a tub of Ben & Jerry’s if you are truly, truly stoned. Hit the bong again. Simple. Moving on.

Group B’s problems are a little trickier depending on where you live. Choosing the right strain for your body and mind is super important, but the right strain can be hard to come by. Get a good drug dealer, the best there is to offer in your area, whether that is a kid with a suitcase full of weed or a dispensary that offers medicated cotton candy. I don’t believe people who say they are allergic to cats, and I don’t believe people who say cannabis always makes them eat their entire house in one sweeping stoner sloth motion.

Alright, I guess that could be possible. A friend of a friend who maybe is a doctor thinks THC-V might actually be an appetite suppressant. What on earth is THC-V? I will assume it is a form of tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). I’m sick of reading about cannabis, though, right now I’m more into smoking every kind of weed that I meet, and seeing what makes me feel super good. If you insist on chasing THC-V, look for African Landrace strains and their offspring. Durban Poison is an infamous one.

Group C’s problem has nothing to do with cannabis at all, and everything to do with living far too close to far too much. If you live truly in the middle of nowhere, with no chocolate bars anywhere nearby, you shall rarely eat them. I lived in a tree-fort once, and the closest food was the garden and the chickens’ pen. I’d have to dig up potatoes or kill a chicken to eat. So I’d be like, “Fuck it” and drink a glass of water from the rain barrel instead. In other words, drinking water when you are hungry is a good idea, or you could move to the most northern place you can imagine, away from any roads that look clean and safe. Alaska, for example. Some random cabin with water-only access at the edge of the Top of the World Highway. I cried on that highway once. Hell, you might get so skinny you’ll die up there. I know there’s no way you are going out for licorice if it means you risk meeting the devil or coyotes on the way in the night all by yourself where the sun sometimes forgets to set.

Lastly, I highly recommend rolling so many fatties that you realize the universe loves you as you are and never forgetting that, for every potential lover you pass on the street who hopes for someone skinny, there are five more waiting for someone with a broad goodbye-side to walk by.

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