According to the timeline of what to expect when you’re doing the whole30, things were supposed to start looking up for me around day 12. Something about ‘boundless energy’? And by day 16…I was going to experience tiger blood. My entire raison for doing this…..thing. (Aside from trying to conquer my sugar addiction.)
That’s not exactly how things panned out for moi….
I had eaten more eggs than I had in my entire life thus far, I had consumed more meat than I hope to ever consume again, I had diligently made my own carrageenan-free almond milk every morning, I had not ingested a single cookie or brownie or anythinggood….and by day 19….I still was not feeling anything remotely resembling ‘energy’ much less ‘tiger blood’.
I had even cooked a spaghetti squash! Yes, I had obtained a football shaped pale yellow gourd, split it (no easy task) and baked it for what felt like hours. No, it actually was hours. And then I dug out the strands of ‘spaghetti’ using a fork and topped it with the homemade tomato sauce I’d used for the boys’ actual spaghetti.
‘You’re pretty serious about this health business,’ the Gort remarked (again) as he tested his sample of vegepasta. ‘Next thing we’ll be eating some of that tofu (wiggling fingers to indicate how crazy tofu is) instead of meat.’
On day 19, the professor sent me a miserable text about how he’d just had to order a bunch of pizza for students and he couldn’t eat any of it. And I was sitting at home on a Friday night, unenergetically, and all I could think of was cake….so I decided to throw in the low-carb-towel. ‘Fine, just eat the pizza,’ I texted him as I started rummaging through the pantry looking for ingredients for cake.
Turned out I was missing all manner of crucial items – not enough cocoa for chocolate cake, no brown sugar for chocolate chip cookies. I might have even been out of eggs. I was all set to rebel and…..nothing.
So I mixed some almond butter and cocoa together with coconut oil and honey and called it dessert. Sad times, indeed.
Shortly after my ‘cheat’, I got a text from the professor: ‘saw this too late…pizza already gone.’
On Sunday, after the professor had jetted off to 80-some-degrees Mexico, leaving us in the obscene wintry cold, I found myself at the community centre near my house. For ‘Winterfest’. The promised hayrides had been cancelled due to the unbearable temperatures and in exchange they’d set up some bouncy castle things to amuse the youngsters.
There were little bags of popcorn and cheesy chips and large containers of the crappy hot chocolate found at public gatherings. I was tempted by all of it, but I couldn’t bear the shame of saying I caved on cheesy chips and bad hot chocolate. And then, the Dominos guy arrived. With a dozen pizzas.
Take-out pizza and I, we have a strange relationship. I like the thought of it, but rarely feel good after I’ve eaten a couple of slices. And Dominos (and Pizza Hut…and Papa Johns) is probably one of the worst offenders where I’m concerned. But this did not matter. I picked up a slice of cheese and a slice of pepperoni for my children and the mere smell of it made me want to put my face in the plate and consume it in the manner of domestic canines.
It was one of the more trying moments of my life….having 2 warm pieces of (ultimately disgusting) pizza right in front of my nose when I was at my weakest….
But if I was going to abandon whole30*, it had to be for something better than Domino’s and cheesy chips.
So I went home and ate fish with spinach salad. And watched Home Alone 3 with the boys.
Counting on my fingers, repeatedly, how many days I had left.
If you’re looking for me on March 5, I will be at the Sidewalk Citizen Bakery with the professor, ingesting a sticky bun. Or a brownie. Or both.
*Definitely, by whole30 standards, I ‘lost’ when that honey touched my lips.
What does coffee have to do with any of this? I’ve drunk a LOT of (decaf!) coffee over the last 25 days…