Enough, Whole 30 “eating plan.” I’ve endured 30 days as of today. I think, however, I’m quitting about 6 hours early. Here’s where I stand:
13 or so pounds down. Not bad.
Way more awareness about how much garbage I was putting in my body. Sure, I made loads of good choices – fresh fruit and veg, love fish and chicken – but all the incidentals were adding up.
I did have more energy during the day. For reals.
Too bad I had to expend about 75% of it meal planning, chopping, prepping. Every day was like F’ing thanksgiving. Not sustainable since I have a few other pesky obligations, like kids, a job, a house…
For the most part, the food was ok, provided I invested enough time on the endeavors mentioned above. I didn’t even miss stuff like pasta (helloooooo spaghetti squash) and bread. Bread is merely a convenient conveyance for so many other things. Egg salad in a lettuce wrap? You better be wearing a damn tarp.
And then tonight, which is really the perfect culmination for my 30 days: After dinner, I was bathing Felix. He was chattering merrily as he is wont to do, this time about his penis, which he dubbed “the iron cylinder.” I’m not making that up. I simply am not that creative. And guys? I guess this whole naming your member thing starts young, no?
As I marveled about my son’s amazing and disturbing imagination, it happened. Poop in the fucking tub. Felix has made it nearly 3 1/2 years, but tonight was the night. While I cleaned up a cylinder of a totally different kind, I decided that I have earned a glass of wine.
I’ll retain many aspects of the Whole 30. No wine ain’t one of them. Now if you’ll excuse me….