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As soon as I walked into work, my mom sent me right back upstairs. Her registered-dietician friend, Jackie, had a cancellation and could see me if I came right away.
I wasn’t really sure how it was going to go. I sort of stumbled and stammered my way through an explanation of the project, half-expecting her at any point to jump in and be just as skeptical as Nancy and my mother had been.
Instead Jackie smiled. “Great. I love it.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Wow.”
“I wish more people would decide to ditch the garbage,” Jackie said. “All that junk we put into our bodies—we weren’t designed to process that kind of food.”
And she wasn’t even talking about chips and ice cream.
“It’s the artificial sweeteners,” she said. “They’re the worst—so addictive. I’ve had clients who had actual d**g wi
