Now that I appear to be single (and the ex having become a professional yoghurt taster based on the photos), I thought it time to lose some weight. So I’ll be trialling a few different fad diets in the hope that I can shed the couple of tens of kilos to turn back into my unattractive former self who makes people uncomfortable at parties.
Paleo dieting works on the idea that thousands of years ago, humans were buff individuals with great hair and long lifespans. While I normally revere everything my Homeopath says, this didn’t quite ring true for me, so I approached the Paleo diet with a healthy amount of skepticism, and boy was I wrong!
Paleo is an amazing diet, and the founder of its movement Mr Magnon should be commended for bringing it to the masses. The Paleo diet is simple – processed foods and modern cooking has ruined the nutrients in our food as well as introduced greater quantities of sugars and carbohydrates into our diet. Only by rejecting the modern food preparations can we truly enrich our lives.
So step one on the Paleo diet: Eat all the things in the house which are non Paleo.
I don’t profess to be an expert.
Having consumed 16 hotdogs, a tin of expired corn and an inhuman quantity of soy sauce, I was prepared for my Paleo future. I began by constructing a fire from wood and lost children that I gathered around my home and revelled in the joy of simple things in life – the fire’s warm glowing warming glow, the soothing crackle and the sweet smell of burning hair.
Hunting companions are a must for the serious Paleo-lithics (or as we’re sometimes referred – “Sir I have to ask you to accompany us to the station”). While cats are often agile bird dogs and can flush a pheasant like no other animal, living outside of a Roald Dahl book has severely limited my apartment block’s pheasant numbers.
The choice of hunting dog is a personal one: I selected two hunting dogs to join my pack, a Rhodesian ridge back and a chihuahua, thereby providing speed, leaping power, burrow fossicking abilities and pure buddy comedy gold. I named the ridgeback “Chester” while I named the chihuahua “Pockets”.
Long story short, Chester ate pockets.
Now I wouldn’t say that I was faultless, but why the RSPCA thought that covering him in mince and throwing him to Chester implied culpability, I’ll never know.
So the cats and I went pheasant flushing, and came up empty. We spent two full days trying to catch birds and small game, with no success. But cats make great companions and even better tacos so I moved on.
Even our Paleo friends had weapons, and I figured I should be no different. Keeping with the theme, I fastened a rock to the end of a long tree breach I found using some long grass and vines. I then sharpened the rock against a larger rock and carefully tied my crude spear to the front of my Kia carnival. By driving around my neighbourhood for less than an hour, I was able to successfully ‘hunt’ three pigeons, a wheelie bin and a Dalmatian called max.
With hunting and cooking down pat, I had mastered the Paleo lifestyle!
That was three weeks ago, and although I’ve had the occasional slip (somehow the Kia found a Kfc drive through) almost everything I’ve eaten has been dangerously unsanitary and made me violently ill (including the KFC).
But I lost ten kilos, so SUCCESS!!