At the flour mill - the door to hell

I’m living with a caveman and although I’ve yet to be dragged back to the cave by my hair, for the past few months my husband has been avoiding carbs, eating huge quantities of meat and exercising in furious bursts as if being pursued by wild animals.  It looks more like New-Man Yoga to me, but he insists he’s remaining true to his primitive man credo and in the process turning his body into a temple as he eschews sugar in all forms.

Perhaps I’m a bit unreconstructed myself, but personally I think it’s no bad thing for a man to look plumped up on his wife’s pies and cakes, but the Caveman has other ideas.  He’s been on a mission to get back to his pre-marriage sylph-like self and convince the rest of us that mashed potato is the devil’s work.
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