Have a spring in my step today and slept like a baby last night. I’m not dragging my tired self around like a half dead goat. What happened? I ate a steak last night. A big juicy Texas Sirloin, medium rare, with a baked potato and wedge salad topped with blue cheese dressing. It was Nirvana. It was almost better than sex. Well on this particular evening, it was better.
I tried to be a vegetarian, I really did. Just does not work for me. Many will inform you, without your even having to ask, to “listen to your body” then you will know that you should not eat the evil red stuff.’ It’s Baaad for you. It clogs your arteries, makes your hair fall out, and tightens up your muscles. It causes cancer, flatulence, dry skin, arthritis, asthma, and water on the knee. Your eyes will cross, the paint will peel off your garage prematurely, and dandelions will infest your lawn. You should not eat animals. It’s not good for the planet. You will die young! If for no other reason than stop the flood of unsolicited advice on every aspect of your existence.
Then I found the Paleo diet. The clouds parted and the angels sang. I danced a happy freedom jig. According to Professor Loren Cordain, the Paleo Diet “is a way of eating that best mimics diets of our hunter-gatherer ancestors – lean meats, seafood, vegetables, fruits, and nuts.” Hurray, now I know that my body was not lying to me. I was not listening. The girl was saying “feed me some meat dammit! If you shove one more raw carrot down my throat, I swear to God, I’m gonna put your ass in bed for a week.” For years while eating raw veggies, whole grains, soy, egg whites, I was always hungry. It was a different kind of hunger. A hunger that veggies alone, even in quantities to sink a battleship, just would not satisfy. Now I know why. Something was missing.
My former Eye Doctor, may he rest in peace, was all up in the raw foods, wheat grass juice, chi machine, and jogged 385 miles a day. Well, I had to find a new doctor because he dropped dead from a heart attack. I say, “give me a man with some meat on his bones” (& muscle). I want a man who can move my sofa at moments’ notice. Not some stringy little dude who has to meditate and carb load for 3 days before he’s ready.
My husband is extremely happy about this turn of events. He likes meat. Getting him to take me to a steak house is a helluva lot easier than talking him into a wild night at Mindy’s House of Tofurky Delights.