My personal life has been undergoing some upheaval in the past few months. I know I left everyone hanging back in August and for that I sincerely apologize. New things are happening in real life and soon here on my blog. Stay tuned!
I ate out today at Chipotle. It. Was. Fantastic. Mostly because I didn’t have to cook, but also because it was a bit of a familiar taste. I had the steak with lettuce and pico. I know I should have added guacamole, because avocados are such great fruits and all, but I hate both avocados and guac. My mouth cringes just thinking about tasting it.
I never thought it would be tedious keeping a log of things, but it is. My GI tract is still in turmoil, which is causing me a good bit of pain and discomfort today. My youngest son has been bragging that he had Pizza Hut pizza and half a dessert cookie pizza last night for dinner (thank you, in-laws). I’m not jealous of the pizza (at least not PH pizza), but I would eat an entire one of those stupid cookie pizzas right now. I’m just so over this restrictive diet. I now it’s in the timeline, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
A week from today and we get to end this thing early. Not a moment too soon, either.
Tim and I are feeling good: while we notice we get cranky when hungry, our energy levels are consistent and my IBS symptoms are few and far between. Food boredom has begun to rear its ugly head, though. I have found the biggest challenge so far has been my own food issues. There are just some foods I cannot force myself to eat, no matter how hungry I am or healthy the food is. Having sensory issues is no walk in the park under normal circumstances; right now, I’m going crazy trying to mesh the diet and my SPD together. I’m proud of myself for making it this far.
Yesterday (Day 14), I had a 31 party and a friendly BBQ afterwards. My friends are great people, even if they brought over sour cream and onion potato chips (my favorite), drank cherry moscato (I miss wine), and ate their burgers on potato rolls (that I purchased). I had my burger with homemade salsa and grilled portabello mushrooms wrapped in bibb lettuce leaves and enjoyed it as much (if not more) than a ‘regular’ burger on a bun. I drank my lime water and felt at peace with my food choices. Eating yummy grilled wings and veggies helped a little too. It helps to know that in a few weeks I can indulge again, but with far less regularity than before. I’ve really learned the meaning of “indulge” lately.
Speaking of the next few weeks, I have an important confession to make. First, I’m not going to air my dirty laundry any more than I feel is necessary, but the rest of this post will have to do more with my personal life and relationship with my husband than my Whole30 diet. I had been planning an extended weekend in the Hampton Roads area for the near-end of August. It would have just been me going; I wanted to visit some friends, spend some time in the places I love and miss, and generally just recenter myself. This turned out to be contentious for a few different reasons, none of which are particularly relevant here. After speaking to my husband and a couple of close friends, I came to realize that I didn’t need to run away by myself to find what I was looking for. I’ve been so caught up in the depression of my infertility that I shouldn’t be alone. I need some time with my husband, so we can focus our attention on each other for a little bit. After a great deal of internet searching, we found a place we could go together: a bed & breakfast in Berkeley Springs, WV.
That leads me to my confession: we will be going there on the 21st, which is Day Twenty-Five of our Whole 30. Tim and I have come to the conclusion that as much as we wanted to do 30 full days of this, our relationship is more important than strict adherence to the plan. While it would not be 100% impossible to stick with the plan on the three days we’ll be gone, we have discussed how difficult it would be. I believe that the focus on procuring compliant food in this tiny WV town would take away from the focus that we need to have on each other. I’m not quite sure what we’re going to do after we get back from our time away. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.
I’m typing this on Day Fifteen. I’m really happy I made it to the halfway point. I never thought my willpower would be this strong. Now if I could only tackle my Summer To Do list with all of my new-found energy and focus!
I didn’t realize how far behind I’ve gotten until my husband pointed out this morning that he was unsure what day we were on because I had not updated my blog in forever. Ugh. A person finally gets some energy to start deep cleaning their house and then they’re in trouble for not spending all day on the computer.
We are now more than a third of the way through our 30 days; I’m a little sick of shrimp, salads, and water, but other than that we’re doing quite well. On Day Ten I violated a rule of the program, though: I stepped on a scale out of morbid curiosity. At that point I had lost 12 pounds. It’s nice to know that I’ve lost weight even though I’m not counting a single calorie or restricting the amount of food I eat (just the type). I miss root beer: it’s been my only steady craving. Not Cherry Coke, which was my addiction. Funny how that works out.
Speaking of working out, I went to my first CrossFit session last night. I really enjoyed myself, even if immediately after the workout I wanted to vomit, cry, and curl up into the fetal position all at once. I was treated gently, too: I did a modified workout to accommodate my newness and my grossly out-of-shapeness. My shoulders were sore last night and I know that I’m going to feel like death warmed over on Sunday. However, I felt great as I left the gym. I was warmly welcomed and didn’t have to suffer from the “only fat girl at the gym” feeling that I usually have. Will I go back? Maybe. I already have too many hobbies and not enough free time, but my friend who dragged me there is very, very persistent. She’s a good friend for that.
Now I’m caught up again and my husband owes me breakfast. Eggs. Again. How delightfully unexpected.
Day Eight was the first day that the kids were allowed “normal” food while Tim and I still ate Paleo. I had to go grocery shopping for them, which went better than expected. I’ve managed to not linger over all the foods I used to eat, although I will admit to missing pizza and the delightful flatbread creations that The Cup sells. I also managed to eat lunch and dinner, which is an improvement over the past few days. I made stuffed peppers for dinner. They were fucking delicious; I cooked with coconut oil for the first time and it blew me away! The best part: the kids enjoyed them too, even if they didn’t like the actual pepper part. They still ate the veggies tucked away into the hamburger mix. Small miracles, amiright?
I swear I’m not officially measuring or anything, but it looks like I’ve lost a smidge of weight in my face. I also think my waist measurement is slightly smaller. The Whole30 timeline says about this time we should be all bloaty, but I think that was over the weekend. I’m still patiently waiting for the burst of energy or at least a decrease in the fatigue I always have. All in all, things are okay and settling into a rhythm now.
Twenty-one and a half days to go.
Day Six ended up being a breaking point for our family, the kids in particular. We were invited to a close friend and neighbor’s house for a cookout; we knew about this party well in advance and we brought a Paleo dish to go along with the Paleo accommodations our friends were providing. For everyone else, there was an abundance of gluten-, legume-, and sugar-laden foodstuffs for party-goers to gorge upon. While my eyes did gaze longingly upon the bag of sour cream and onion potato chips for a moment or too, I was content with my wings, coconut chicken, mushrooms, and shiro plum for dessert. My husband enjoyed the meat and veggies too, along with a sliver of cheesecake (!) after I had left the party. The kids, well, the kids looked like we had run over a puppy with and Abrams tank when confronted with the choice of Paleo food versus everything else. Given the choice, they chose “real food.” And we let them. The boys had chips and hot dogs washed down with root beer. Sophie, feeling more conflicted, noshed on a few chips and left the party early, perhaps to avoid succumbing to more temptation. Tim and I ended up in an argument about the stupid cheesecake and about how I am a stickler for the rules of the program. Good times.
That argument led to two conclusions: one, we tried to change the kids’ diets too quickly and it backfired and two, I have fears about the direction this way of eating might be taking me. In regards to the kids, we decided that we would continue having them try and eat the same dinners as the adults. Breakfasts and lunches are going to be relaxed, with some grains and dairy (and added sugar), but healthier and perhaps more focused than in the past. I know people who are living long, healthy, full lives eating the foods that the Paleo lifestyle leaves out: it is a choice to live this way and it’s not one the kids are ready to make. I’d rather the kids, the boys especially (since they’re still undersized for their age), eat food than to not eat it in protest.
The second conclusion is far more challenging. I have dabbled at the edges of disordered eating my entire life. There are times when I’ll eat an entire box of crackers, cookies, or the like; there are times when I’ll find myself eating and eating and eating and just not giving a fuck. I’m usually depressed when I (lightly) binge. I used to hide and eat food when I was a kid because I have food texture issues and no amount of sitting and staring at a pork chop on my plate will allow me to willingly shove it past my lips. I still hide food to this day, although usually only when I’m stressed. I also have experience with the opposite side, where I’ll just not eat. Sometimes, it’s a result of my sensory issues: if I can’t find something I want to eat, I just don’t. Other times, it’s because I’m upset and it’s a way to reassert control over some aspect of my life. I don’t like feeling hungry, but I get used to it quickly. Back in May I went through several days without eating because it was a very turbulent period and it was the only way that anything felt real to me. A part of me was shocked that it was kinda easy to not eat; another part of me was happy that I managed to lose several pounds. Of course, once I started eating again (I was suffering physical issues at that point), I gained it all back and then some. So when I came across the Whole 30 program, I didn’t focus on how restrictive it was at first. I was hoping the challenge would help with some health issues and help me shed a few pounds. What I didn’t count on was how the restrictiveness of the plan would allow me to subconsciously limit the amount I was eating each day. On Day Six, I skipped breakfast, had a plum from the farmer’s market for lunch, and then ate a grand total of 9 wings, a 2inch by 1inch piece of chicken with bacon, a small mushroom, and another plum. It’s becoming easier to just not eat and that scares me.
On Day Seven (yesterday), the kids and I with some friends went to see Guardians of the Galaxy (great movie, I highly recommend it!). I did manage to eat breakfast, although I didn’t eat as much as I normally would have. I skipped lunch and we went to a 4pm showing. Yes, I cheated on the diet finally myself: I had banana chips (that have added sugar) that I smuggled into the theater and a small piece of my friend’s Hershey bar, which tasted awful. I felt so guilty about the transgression that I could not force myself to eat dinner (my husband made me a delightful salad). Tim wants to continue on and a part of me does too; I’m also not sure how to get a handle on the eating/not eating situation. I have yet to eat breakfast today but I’ll try to eat soon. I know we are supposed to start over if we transgress but this is our personal plan now and so we will continue forth in the meantime.
This will be short and sweet, seeing how I blogged earlier. I had a fantastic treat tonight! Potatoes! Cooked with onions and a little bit of olive oil in foil pouches on the grill! They were so ohmnomnomnom delicious! We had steak and steamed broccoli as well. I never, ever thought I’d be so damn excited about potatoes, even though I love them dearly. They are approved for the plan, but to be used sparingly. The kids loved them too, even Cam, who has never lifted a potato to his mouth that hadn’t been fried by some minimum wage schlub at a fast food joint. Which makes me grumble, because in the summer we usually make potatoes in foil all the frakking time. But baby steps, I must remember that at least he’s taking baby steps. Even if he didn’t like the steamed broccoli (meh) or the steak (how did I give birth to this child?).
Things are getting not worse, it seems. If only my arthritic lower back would stop bitching for 20 minutes so I could enjoy sitting down!
Twenty-five days. Seventy-five meals. But who’s counting? Me.