My husband and I just returned from a two-weeks vacation in Cape Town. We scheduled to do safari and other activities with some of his local friends, whom I never met before.

I arrived to this trip 40 pounds lighter than I was six months ago and on a beautiful and easy protocol.

As soon as our first meal together with them came about, I learned from them that South Africa is the land of Women, Wine, and Song, as they like to call it, and the people we were with, spend the majority of their lives looking for the next great meal, the wine sundowners, the beach tan, and the good life.
They have maids and luxurious homes, and Comfortable is the theme of their lives.

As soon as I said I don’t want a dessert or wine, the friends started mocking me for being too strict, party pooper, over-achiever, and perfectionist.
They reminded me everyday on this trip that I am the one who doesn’t know what good life is and that I am the not normal. Ironically, as I stuck to my protocol, they fell ill before me one after the other.

One started vomiting because she was overeating, one had migraines from over drinking, and slowly each one showed me why how I live is the right way and not necessarily how they.

When we said goodbye last night, the two women sat across me and complained for feeling bloated and that the dresses they brought don’t fit after two weeks of overeating.
I sat there, fresh and calm, and said nothing.
I, meantime, spent two weeks enjoying seeing new places, I lost five more pounds (on vacation) I felt and looked good, and I did not need to worry what will fit me.

I didn’t care to be remembered as that one who didn’t eat sweets and flour or didn’t have a single drink. My long-term well being is more important to me than women, wine, and song. I am my own electricity…