Day 2 has come and gone. I’m left to sit with my thoughts and wonder outloud “what the hell am I doing?”
I started this series for several selfish reasons, one of which was to have something concrete to write about for the month of February.
Some time back I micro-managed my madness by planting a seed in my head that I need to do method writing, which I would consider to be the literary version of method acting.
On this 2nd day I realized a few things but the most defining revelation was that milk is in a lot of things. No like A LOT. For instance, milk chocolate actually has some milk in it. (who knew?!)
After coming to terms with my chocolate death sentence I asked myself: “Is this madness worth it?” I looked at the gallon of milk in fridge, thought of myself suckling on a mother cow’s tit and dug deep into my ego. “Yes” I told myself because at this point (day 2) it’s not about me anymore, nor the cow.
If I’m quick to quit at the first sign of adversity after only 2 days, what hope do I have for any semblance of maintaining even the slightest form of integrity?
I never committed to living a dairy-free life, just a dairy-free February. 28 days isn’t a whole lot considering that I’m past 30 already. That’s 30+ years of drinking cow’s milk. One single month isn’t going to kill me.
Also, if I want to effectively change other habits, I must endure the easier ones if I ever stand a chance at the harder ones…yes I’m looking at you nails! Right now it’s bigger than the cow and her nurturing boobies.
Sidebar: what’s up with that? For starters I’m not a calf. And if we humans are going to drink milk, shouldn’t it be from one of our own? The thought of drinking a random stranger’s milk is kinda gross but I should be that grossed out because we don’t know the name of the cow from which we enjoy corn flakes with.
I’m pretty positive that all cows are not named Betsy.