Balance

The noise of my own crunching and chewing was drowning out all other sounds.

I don't want to do this raw thing anymore. It's not so much that I can't handle it (I *do* really miss coffee though); it's more that it has made this month all about me. It's just... a little much.

If anyone's a little *much*, it would be me. I create drama out of any situation, like squeezing water from a rock. Maybe a youngest/only-type child thing? Who knows.

Grocery shopping, at least every other day, was predominantly for my mass amounts of leaves and roots. Me me me. Conversations with people were drowning in questions about raw food, the "rules", the side effects, the poo. Me me me. Outings with friends had to be somewhere near a juice bar, or where tea was available, or that served raw vegan salad/salad dressing. And who wants to tuck into a cheeseburger while their friend is eating farm animal food? My friends would eat beforehand just to avoid the situation entirely. Me me me.

And THAT is GROSS.

Balance is good! But this month of raw food served its purpose for me. My food-choice pendulum swung from one extreme (coffee sludge and melted chocolate chips on white toast) to the other (broccoli and hemp seeds) and now it has settled somewhere in the middle, a much healthier (holistic) lifestyle (grainy bread broken with friends, topped with cheese, side-saddling a colourful salad and peppered with quality conversation). You me you me.

Much better.