I did the Whole30 in January. And now I think I’m better than everyone.
On day 10, I wrote this about it:
“I wasn’t exactly prepared to start on January 1st. We settled on the 2nd. And come January 2nd, I promptly lost all motivation. I don’t want to give up sugar! I don’t want to give up my morning venti cinnamon dolce latte, no whip! (Which, by the way, has a whopping 45 grams of sugar!) I don’t want to plan meals! And read ingredients! And cook all… the… time. (Like, seriously, it’s a FULL TIME JOB.) But I was roughly pulled along with my darling mother and my adorable sister who, oddly enough, I want to murder right now. Yes, right this very moment. Because this has been the worst thing I’ve ever done! (Okay, maybe the best, but still. The WORST.)”
I never hit “publish” on that post because adulting is hard and you often get interrupted by important, adulty things that you really have no interest in doing, but alas, you’re an adult (when did that happen?) and you have to stop what you’re doing and, I don’t know, be responsible. (Imagine how much worse it would be if I had children.)
Despite not having ever published that post, you’re in luck.
Cuz I’m doing the Whole30 again in April and I just can’t think of a better time to start a new blog than when I’m about to become a total health snob.
Already, with four whole days left to feel fat and remorseful about all the processed shit I’m stuffing in my face, I’m feeling a twinge of why the fuck are you doing this again?
Because I really liked the way I felt on Whole30.
Okay, no, I didn’t like the way I felt the first few days when I was unprepared and stressed out and had no idea what I’d gotten myself into and had to stop at the grocery store every fucking night.
And, no, I didn’t like the way I felt between days five and eight when what I can only assume were sugar withdrawals hit and I was nauseous and achy and miserable and couldn’t eat anything.
And, no, I didn’t like the way I felt for the five days after that either because, damn it, I just didn’t.
But those last two weeks? Something happened. Maybe it really was tiger’s blood… or maybe it was just my body reveling in all the wholesome goodness I was feeding it… who knows. While I didn’t have this amazing abundance of energy that so many Whole30-ers brag about, I did feel… good.
I felt in control.
I felt good about being in control. Of my body. For maybe the first time in my life.
That is, until I started eating sugar again.
I was 100% sugar-free for FORTY WHOLE DAYS and the short and sweet of it is that, despite my resolution to eliminate sugar for good (with the exception of special occasions, because come on), once I added it back into my diet it was business as usual very quickly.
I decided to do Whole30 again for a few reasons. One, I’m a weirdo and like to challenge myself (even more than I realized). Two, imagine how much more smug I can be after I finish it TWICE. Three, I like the idea of another reset… especially now that I know sugar is something I need to eliminate for good.
So, I’m quitting. I’m quitting a few foods for a few days. I’m quitting sugar for a few more days. Like, a lifetime’s worth? And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me incredibly fucking sad to say that. So, maybe the problem is worse than I realized because it shouldn’t have this much of an emotional impact, should it? It’s just SUGAR. And it’s really, really bad for me. Like, poisonously bad.
Once upon a time, after I lost a bunch of weight and then gained it back, a coworker very sneakily left me a pamphlet for FA. Food Anonymous. Because she thought I was an addict. And I totally scoffed it off, like, I can stop this any time I want to!
I’m starting to think she was on to something.