DAY 5: I’ve officially become a high-maintenance vegan “Sally Albright” who annoys omnivores like, well, all vegans–a raw gluten-free vegan.

There’s no getting around it. My body and mind perform better eating raw and last night proves what I suspected for months–there’s no room at the inn for gluten. After consuming a delicious bowl of miso soup (adding turmeric failed to counter the effect) the itchy, prickly skin starts, the result of my overtaxed immune system’s attempt to exorcise the demon gluten.

I’ve an elimination diet at hand to determine what I’m learning one possible food allergen at a time (citrus, lovely citrus may have to hit the road too, for a time anyway). If this sounds extreme, try taking a cancer drug once a week for five years and counting when you don’t have cancer, knowing said cancer drug can cause cancer. Fine tuning the foods I eat to rid myself of this poison, and, fingers crossed, RA, pales in comparison.

Quick story: the other night I plop down on the sofa to enjoy some GFV (which will stand for gluten-free vegan henceforth) Pad Thai. My fork attaches itself to a broccoli floret which becomes my first bite, after which I pronounce, “I like broccoli.” That statement, along with getting turned on burying my nose in a bunch of organic basil (take note, vegan fragrance companies–concoct a basil cologne for men; trust me), make me happy.

Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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