Entering Paleo Land

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Early last month Flyboy came home from work and stated, “I’d like to start the Paleo Diet.”

Now we’ve had our run-ins with diets before. We’ve discussed them, started them, and even bought everything for them but never even tried them. We’ve always had the best of intentions, every person who tries a diet does. But this time around the look on his face told me Flyboy was serious. He wanted to make a change and he knew how he wanted to do it. So of course my answer was “Okay, I’ll join you.”

We decided that we would give ourselves the rest of the month to get ready for the change. It would give us a chance to do more research, outline our own rules for it, and establish we were really going to do it. And on November 1st we started out first day.

We’re now 22 days in. In those 22 days I have:

  • Kicked my soda habit.
  • Stopped adding milk to my cup of coffee a morning and either leave it black or add just almond milk.
  • Eaten more eggs than I ever thought I could in one day.
  • Spent more time in the kitchen in one week than I’ve been known to spend in a month.
  • Lost 4 pounds without adding exercise yet.

I have also decided that I need to start a Paleo Journal on this blog so that others that on this journey or are wanting to start this journey can see what I’ve gone through and what has worked for me.

Because life is a journey and we don’t have a choice but to take it. It’s how we take it that matters.

The Hair Tells a Story

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The hairs twined around my fingers tell a story.

They tell of how I changed my clothes, turned out the light and crawled between the chilled sheets of my bed. How I laid my head on my pillow and shivered as the warmth of my body expanded to the space around. How sleep slowly took a hold of me and I allowed it to drift me away.

They tell of my eyes snapping open only to stare into near darkness, the only light shining from beneath floor on which I stood, clothed only in a shift. Of how I recoiled from what the light illuminated, horrified at the view. Blocks of glass floor lit from within highlighting the undulating serpentine bodies alternated with sharp shards of glass, the clear spaces just far enough away to be unreachable with a simple leap. Safety away mocking silently, the only truly clear space the block on which I stood.

They tell of how the lights went out all at once, and I was left blind and silent. The panic rising up inside of my chest. How the feel of movement over my feet caused me to involuntarily step a foot back onto the sharp glass behind me, cutting my foot and the smell of blood. How I could hear my greatest fear slide in the dark, so many of them everywhere and anywhere. How I slowly folded down as small as I could and held my knees to my chest, my hands in my hair and over my ears to stop the hissing, the bodies sliding over my toes and around my side. Willing myself to not allow the scream in the hollows of my throat to spew forth.

They tell of how I woke with my cheeks damp and the cats curled to my side and on my feet. How I crawled back out of the warmth and went to wash the salt tracks from my face. How I found them twined around my fingers to tell a story.

One I never want to hear again.