There’s a problem with this diet. There is no capacity for fine restaurant dining, nor even for terrible take-out. There can be no “just get yourself a snack at the bakery” comments … unless those words are truly meant to hurt and torture.
There can be no utterances of “we’ll pick up some highway food on the way out.” There can be no energy drinks or Red Bull to help on those late-night, wintry returns from Whitehorse. There can be no bag of grapes or chips or Doritos or Cheezies, just sitting on the passenger seat, awaiting the ultimate fulfillment of their anticipated destiny as you devour them.
Let’s make no mistake about it, there will be no devouring.
And what about travel? Should I book an extra seat for the cow? Are you allowed, even in the depths of thirst, to milk a cow on the plane? How can I politely decline the warm Air North chocolate chip cookie with a smug demonstration of my bag of carrots?
No one will understand. Not even me …