The 25 Body Type Diet

The Body Type Cafe

A Conversation with a Skin Body Type

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Listen in on the Body Type Dialogue!

Imagine yourself surrounded by soft jazz, cushy chairs and hot mocha espressos. You've just entered your favorite cafe - and you're there to curl up, relax, and eavesdrop on the latest! This is no ordinary cafe with ordinary conversation. Each one of our Body Type Dialogue stories illustrates how the different body types think, react and deal with each other. You may read a story about a Heart man gushing over a cute latte-drinking Adrenal girl. Or, a Thyroid man may be discussing his marketing budget with his Lymph supervisor. Wherever the conversation leads you, you'll come away with a better understanding of the 25 Body Types, and learn how they may react in real-life conversations.

We hope you enjoy these whimsical stories and they help you gain a deeper understanding of the 25 Body Types.

As she sipped her coffee at the Body Type Café, Monica was disappointed and even a little angered by her mother’s reaction. Even though it was positive and just what she expected, it still wasn't what she wanted. Monica felt anxious about the new position she had accepted, and part of her wanted someone to talk her out of it. Mom, however, was excited and proud for her. She didn't hesitate a moment in suggesting Monica accept the position, even if it meant moving away. Monica knew it was in her best interest, but she was still hurt. How could her own mother want her to move away?

Just the same, Monica knew she had to accept this opportunity. After nearly 25 years of working different jobs, none had ever felt so right. Camp Director for a major, nonprofit, summer camp in the mountains. Though she was a city girl, Monica had always felt relaxed in the country, and even if she didn't have kids of her own, she had always loved them. But there was fear attached to taking on this job. Stakes were high, as several managers had failed to turn the environmental and fiscal circumstances of this camp around, and Monica felt her position with the organization was vulnerable, should she fail. But her decision was made, and she was going to succeed, even if it meant hiring a whole new staff and razing half the camp. Monica was capable of managing very aggressively if frightened or angry, and between the challenge of the position and her mother's bidding her leave, she was a little of both.


Monica had decided to arrive at the camp unannounced, a day early. Camp was out of session and it was a Sunday, so she figured most or all of the staff would be in town or otherwise out enjoying their day off, leaving the camp wide open for her to freely inspect.

The day of her arrival, Monica got a midday start on her three hour drive to the camp. When she pulled her car into the staff parking lot, the camp was, as she had expected, empty. As she climbed out of her car, she was aware of how good it felt to stand on solid ground. Lifting her arms high into the air and looking straight up, Monica stretched and stretched as if trying to reach the power lines above her. As she relaxed and breathed in the rich and wonderful smell of the mountain, she noticed a large black bird glide down and settle onto the line above her. Suddenly, she felt extremely uncomfortable. A moment later, another crow came swooping down and settled next to the first, and just as suddenly as it had appeared, her discomfort was replaced with a feeling of optimism. "Odd," she thought.

It was getting late in the afternoon and Monica was anxious to get started. After exchanging her driving shoes for some hiking boots, she headed out across the assembly field. One of her unique managerial strengths was a near perfect memory. Once she had seen something, she could recall details years later. Even though Monica had never been to this camp, she had studied a map and a brochure before coming and was confident of where she was going.

Crossing the field and following the path up a slight rise, she came to the edge of the lake, at the levy. Walking over a small bridge, she stood on the dam and looked across the lake to large open pastures which sloped gently until they disappeared into pine forest. Monica was taken by the scene in front of her, and even though its beauty had a post card-like quality, she couldn't remember the last time she felt so solid and real.

The afternoon sun was already casting long shadows across the lake, so Monica felt she needed to move on. Taking a trail that led down the face of the dam, Monica came into an open field which was the archery range when camp was in session. She made a mental note that the hay bales for the targets needed replacing, and the grass in the field needed cutting. Making her way along the well worn path, she had a sense of moving deeper into the body of the camp. She pictured the hundreds of kids who had run over this path, year after year. Monica could almost hear their laughter and yells, shrieks and whistles. Even though she knew she should be getting back, Monica felt drawn forward and wasn't at all concerned.

Coming to the edge of the field, the path disappeared into a wall of bushes taller then Monica. It looked like the entrance to a cave, and as she approached, Monica felt her pulse quicken with the same excitement she imagined all the young explorers felt just before entering this secret new place. Ducking as she headed in, she felt the sting of thorns just above her boot. She had caught the branch of a boysenberry bush. "Y'ouch! Oh wow, ripe berries. This is neat," she said out loud, as if to a playmate. Without even thinking, she reached up and pulled some fruit from the plant and popped it into her mouth. The sweet and puckery taste transported her to the summers of her youth, picking raspberries with friends along the river's edge.

Monica's reverie was broken by movement along the edge of the path, not far ahead of her. Resisting the urge to turn and run back into the open field, Monica stood very still, and with her heart beating even faster now, she focused all her attention in front of her. To her amazement and delight, a large doe stepped from the underbrush onto the path and, turning towards her, brought her nose into the air while looking straight at Monica. After a moment, the doe dropped her head and turned away, continuing across the path to the small stream that ran along side it. As the deer drank, there was a crunching noise and a couple of flashes of brown and white as two fawns flew out of the brush and bounced across the path toward their mother.

Nearly frozen, Monica became aware of a profound "knowing". Her whole being filled with joy as she watched and suddenly knew, "mother and child"... She knew her mother... She knew herself... She felt a passion she had never known. Passion she knew could never leave her.

No longer watching the scene unfolding in front of her, Monica had become part of it. And when the doe and her offspring turned and walked toward her, she felt nothing odd in it. Remaining perfectly still, Monica simply existed as the doe walked straight up to her, brought her cool moist nose to her hand and, after a few sniffs, licked it several times. Then dropping her head, the doe moved past Monica and continued down the path toward the archery field, with the two younger deer following.

Monica turned as the deer left the shady grotto, and she did the same. Standing at the clearing's edge, she watched the doe and her brood climb up the dam face, and again sensed a powerful “knowing". Monica wasn't sure what had happened to her, but she knew her life would never be the same — that somehow she had just been given a small glimpse of a universe of "knowing", hidden to most.

No longer able to stand, Monica settled to her knees on the dirt of the path, and tears began to fill her eyes. Small whimpers quickly turned into explosive sobs, each wave celebrating a new freedom. Echoing off the wall of the twilight forest, her cries came back to her, as if from the earth itself, "Welcome home, Monica. Welcome Home."

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