A few years ago my ex-girlfriend’s mom gave me a copy of Eat Right for Your Type. If you’re unfamiliar, the book is about eating foods that fit your blood type. The book is based mainly on conjecture; there’s minimal–if any–solid research supporting the author’s claims. But at the time I was enthralled.
I’m Type O Negative (a little like the band, but not really).
Being a testosterone-driven cerebral-Neanderthal, I was estatic when I learned that Type O is the caveman’s blood type. Now my diet could match my grunts. Each night for a few weeks I sat in the living room dissecting the book. As I tore through the book (I did literally rip one page), my skepticism grew. What originally seemed profound quickly took a turn to the silly.
According to the book strawberries are a poor choice for me. Over 10,000 years of human evolution the strawberry has continued a streak of terror on pre-historic, Type O, human physiology–or so the book would have us think. Poop. I was jaded.
This was happening at the time when I learned that Paleo is a thing. Up to that point I didn’t realize that eating mostly lean meats, veggies and fat sources needed a distinct title. I just thought it’s how we are supposed to eat. But, with all the media reinforcement, I decided to join in and be Paleo. Except for when there was candy around, or if I wanted to eat a potato, or if there were cookies…like anywhere.
For the most part, though, I have habitually eaten a clean, paleo-esque diet. This by modern standards, of course. I decided, however, to go full paleo and eat like a real caveman. Here’s how it chronologically went down:
Day 1: I threw all of my food out. Cavemen didn’t have cupboards and refigerators with stored food–so to be hardcore paleo I had to ditch all the soft, supermarket shit. It cost me close to $2,000.
Day 2: Didn’t eat during day one or day two. I wanted to let the caveman nature set in and I figured that I’d have to be really hungry to get the full effect.
Day 3: Found a stick in the yard and sharpened it into a spear. I cheated, though; I used the sidewalk as a tool. But if cavemen had sidewalks they would have used them too. Still didn’t eat. Started calling my Pit Bull “Queen Wolf” and named our tribe (it was just she and I) Imfuknhungryletseatasquirrel. It’s an ancient translation of a Northern European Neanderthal dialect of Neanderthal.
Day 4: Went hunting with Queen Wolf. She led the hunt. First we had to fight off the competition so I threw rocks at the college students walking in front of our house. I hit one in the head and someone called the cops. Queen Wolf and I hid in the house for the rest of the day. The rabbits were mocking us from the tree line. I remembered that I didn’t throw away Queen Wolf’s treats. We each had a handful of sweet potato and venison treats. The day ended well.
Day 5: Decided to hunt from the window. Saw a teenager walking by with a cookie. Sprinted out the door, kicked him in the nads and took his cookie. I ate it in his face and stole his backpack in case he was hiding food. I only found condoms and weed. Ate half of the weed and did my first cave painting.
Day 6: Remembered that cavemen didn’t have oil heat. Killed the pilot flame on the furnace and turned off the hot water heater. I broke all the living room furniture and started a fire in the garage. Moved all my sleeping stuff to the garage to make it more realistic. Instructed Queen Wolf to guard the cave while I finished my cave paintings. For the past five days I’d been storing my pee in buckets. Used it to shower and rehydrate. Queen Wolf ran off after a squirrel and didn’t return.
Day 7: Desperately searched for Queen Wolf but to no avail. She must have joined a neighboring tribe. Hunted alone–I found three french fries on the ground and a Pez dispenser with 5 Pez in it.
Day 8: Sprinted into McDonald’s and jumped the counter. Punched the fry cook and dumped 2 pounds of french fries into a bag. Ate three cheeseburgers while I fought off the manager. Grabbed 4 boxes of chicken nuggets and dispensed a milk shake directly from the machine into my mouth. Noticed that the cops arrived so I ran towards the back door. Got shot with a tazer in the back.
Days 9 and 10: Sat in a cell in the Centre County Correctional Facility. McDonald’s withdrew charges, stipulating only that I never come within 5,000 yards of that location. They let me out and I walked home–that’s how a caveman would leave jail.
Day 11: Ate 2 large pizzas, 2 large packs of sour patch kids, a loaf of bread, 2 jars of cookie butter, a sub, 3 cans of corn and a kitchen sponge. Washed it all down with 3 liters of cola.
I’m glad I experimented with Paleo–I guess it’s just not for me. In truth, I don’t think it’s for anyone. We have grocery stores and restaurants.
Oh, and eat the damn strawberries–even if you’re Type O.