Aha!  Day six of no-carb is the day that a carb creeps its creepy way into my uncreepified world.  Via the Super Bowl.  At a friend’s house.  In the personage of a slice of cheese pizza.  Held in my hand.  Brought to my chops.  Slashed and gnawed and swallowed into my system.

A glutenous, gluttonous, wheat-filled, dairy-covered, store-bought triangle of death.

Well, some pizza, anyway.

The result?  In the interests of making solid the connectivity between bad eating and suffering, I could go into graphics about my morning stomach.  In the higher interests, I will not.  But the thing is, the only way to give things up in an effective way is to solidify the connection between cause and effect — you/I eat a gluten thing, your/my system deals with it.  My stomach hurts.  Right now.  It hasn’t hurt the previous five gluten-free days.  Please, math, do.

Cause and effect.  Cause and effect.  Cause and effect.

If you use your brain to dilute those connections, if you allow yourself the luxury of constantly forgetting what this food in front of you does to you — overtly, noticingly, and invertly, below your awareness, in the long-term inner ecology of you — than you will never make the changes in your diet that will serve you, and recover your health.

Pizza, you look pretty.  But pizza?  Dude, you’re no good.