The way I quit sugar was to voluntarily go to hell

And from the two West, it was possible to look directly at the smaller, and even more private ads, even private ones, reserved for the exclusive use of guests staying in Villa Villa (which goes for 3,750 euros per night). My regular partner and I spoke at the Private Dock Villa and tried to identify the unique character, or even the era, of the woman that we saw there. (Impossible.) Constantly, people were fighting each other to see if there was a famous person. Like the good and the expensive vivamayr, everyone knew everything but one thing, even if it was more expensive, that a rich person might pay for the same service; I’ve had a lot of persuasion where I see Vivamayr as rundowns of them and their cousins. Is this, one wonders, the key to Vivamayr’s success? Can the ultrawalthy believe that the goodness of the program is only if the destination is, in some way, less than good?

When I reviewed my constant kindness to the Vivamayr doctor, his eyes lit up like a sugar cane of a grocery store salesman. “I have something in mind,” he said at the first meeting: “MyoDiaGnostic” Exam “. I don’t know what the hell that was; it sounded good.

On that appointed afternoon I climbed the sunlit stairs to his office. He asked me to lie down on the exam table. I should use his thigh muscles to move my head towards mine, feeling the gentle pressure from him as he pushes the knee in the opposite direction. I moved easily. They began to put a tattoo of the Toon-nawere wound on my tongue with the help of the wood. After placing the crumb, I was asked to repeat the knee processing. If my tongue met my body “my body doesn’t like it”, said the doctor, your muscles will be weak for 20 seconds, before it is restored. In this way, I will identify allergies, weaknesses and deficiencies in my diet. My knee moved without a problem until he put a fine white powder on my tongue; Suddenly I could barely resist him. “That’s what I was thinking,” he said.

The muscles were moving honestly with a few pieces of milk, the doctor said, which means that my desire for kindness is the result of an infection in my mouth. The microorganism of the infection, he explained, experienced sweets, and I fed them regularly. “We must starve,” said the doctor, something growing inside me. “You know what that means: no sweets. No yeast. “I also need to take medicine. I was terrified. What I believe is my personal preference seems to be the inescapable desire of an alien invader. “What causes this?” I asked. The doctor believed that I had this infection “for a long time”; Maybe I grew up in an antibiotic as a child, in childhood, he said. He was “absolutely surprised” that my body hadn’t broken down yet.

I’m not ready to give up sweets just because I don’t control my personality decades ago in other decorations that messed with sugar non-stop. Because I was working with the virus, I asked myself out loud, isn’t there a risk, if I tried to eliminate it, my body ties? The only real risk, the doctor said, was to continue to leave him unprotected. “It could irritate the bowels if I kept it,” he said. “It could damage your bowels. And your sugar cravings will never end. ” If I eradicated the infection, it helped, and my digestion, which was already good, could, in some ways, be even better.