By Maryanna Gabriel
I seem to have joined the growing throngs of people who have developed a wheat intolerance. As the good doctor said, it is not the wheat’s fault, it is what we do to it. I listened to my body communicate to me, via electronic impulse, a startling and effective experience somewhat similar to the principles of kinesiology. How many times have I said, I am really sorry body, but can you please put up with this a little longer while I meet some work deadline, and borrow from my future to pay the costs of today? The future is here and it is payback time. What a chorus of protest, a veritable outcry of complaint, and now I am in a position after about a billion inner nudging and whispers ignored of having to face the fact my cells wants change or else. I listlessly wended my home after this visit, my grocery list lying inert at the bottom of my purse seeming more like a death sentence than a good idea, with a bag of lemons and some millet, feeling rather confused. It’s called breaking habits and this going to take a bit of thought now that I have given myself my undivided attention. Cells rule.
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