Red meat is not her problem.
Red meat is willing. Pull-ups, sit-ups, pushups. Leg presses, calf raises, hamstring curls. Stadium bleachers, soccer field suicides, tabata on the rowing machine. Boat pose, plow pose, downward-facing dog. Red meat takes the beating and repairs, reforms, becomes stronger.
The others are the traitors.
Yellow-white lymph carries confused aggressors, attempting to make her immune to herself. Under attack, the clear membranes in her joints react in the only way they know and produce more fluid, now yellowed with inflammation. Beige cartilage, pressed on by the ballooning humour, erodes into pearly bone. Around distorted bones, gray tendons and ligaments are compromised and can no longer cradle joints as they should. Long creamy nerves passionately report the destruction.
She doesn’t want to hear the report.
Red meat is willing.