And I thought all it was good for was making bike rides more entertaining, helping music to sound better, and brightening the colors of the local flora and fauna on overcast afternoons.
I love that we’re getting these regular reports on the health benefits of cannabis; it’s like in the Woody Allen movie “Sleeper,” where in the future scientists discover that all the things we thought were unhealthful in the 1970s—cigarettes, red meat, and chocolate—turn out to be exactly what’s required for a long life.
It’s also refreshing to me that the usefulness of pot as an appetite suppressant is being verified, too. I have long experienced the “anti-munchies” when I get stoned. Generally, the last thing I want to do right after finishing a joint is to eat. I’m all for drinking in the world and consuming the mystery of the environment around me, but the idea of putting food in my mouth tends not to be very appealing.
Occasionally over the years, I’ve made the mistake of getting high before going out to eat or at a dinner party with friends. When that happens, it’s all I can do to fill up on martini olives or the marischino cherry at the bottom of my Manhattan.
No doubt my career as a leggy supermodel would be derailed by restrictions on marijuana use; Kate Moss can hoover up her monster lines of blow; I’d prefer a few hits off the bong instead.
All this said, it is also my experience that typically, several hours after the initial effect, the munchies do set it. That’s when everything from pickles dipped in mustard to kale soaked in rum to melted cheese on a plate tastes remarkably delicious.
The trick, therefore, to sustained weight loss on pot is pretty obvious: just keep smoking.