12 Steps

I am such an addict. I am addicted to chocolate, mozzarella di buffala, pasta & prosciutto. (God I love being married to an Italian.) I am also addicted to red velvet cupcakes and red wine. Eliminating one thing from my diet is do-able. Eliminating 5 or 6 really sucks. Eliminating 10 or 15 is fucqing miserable.

So here I am, 2 weeks into this new gig, and I'm gettin a little pissy. I should be feeling better by now and have reduced cravings, but I actually think I am at the peak of misery. I have not gone vegan, but I have gone "mostly" vegetarian. Mostly meaning I'm eating lots of fish, and very rarely a very small, very organic, piece of meat. I've been slurping down the Roya.l Jelly twice daily. It's a habit I've noticed rivals a daily Sta.rbucks mocha in terms of expense. (A habit I cut out 6 years ago.) And then there's the D.HEA. I'm up to 62 mg a day now. Seeing some mild acne and a big ass clump of hair in the shower yesterday. But so far no beards and I don't have the urge to fart and belch in front of the TV. I'm about to add Co.Q10 and the fish oil poppers after I venture to the store later.

Mr. W, bless his heart, is taking 100mg of Pyc.nogenol, and 2 grams of L-Arg.inine. (And generally, he doesn't belch or fart in front of the TV, so I have to be careful in qualifying male traits.) But trying to keep him out of the wine is driving me nuts.

Yesterday was the ultimate challenge for both of us. I have been avoiding our wine cellar, like the plague. In fact, I have avoided that whole part of the house for sometime. However, we have out of town company visiting later this week and boxes of wine shipments have accumulated outside the cellar. (I'm finally stopping some of our auto ships.) I couldn't avoid it anymore. I had to put the shit away because it was IN the way. The cellar holds 4000 bottles. (I said I was an addict. OK, maybe obsessive compulsive too.) Mr. W offered to help (because he didn't want me lifting anything heavy) but secretly I knew he thought he could talk me into opening a bottle. I know, I sound like such a whiner. And I'm spending this whole post talking about it, but it is the like the ultimate struggle....er maybe the second ultimate struggle. So, despite the available glasses and wine keys everywhere I looked, I resisted. I reminded Mr. W that with company in town soon, it's likely we would each have a glass of wine at some point, and to put back the bottle he had selected to pair with his dinner menu for the night.

Seriously, I'm in recovery. It bites.