So... today kinda sucked. I was not expecting this.
Fridays are my work-from-home days. I work extra hours during the week and so I only work about a half day on Fridays. Prior to Whole30, my typical game plan was hang out at home doing work until I'm off, then head out and grab some lunch and do whatever errands I had (usually a doctor appointment), or do something fun, or just come home and eat my crappy lunch and veg out for the day.
So, going into this week, and starting the Whole30, I figured no big deal. I'd eat lunch at home and then go on about my business and do whatever I normally would do.
Not so fast...
I skipped breakfast. To be fair, I usually do on Fridays. No real reason why other than I get out of bed and go straight to the office, essentially, and I sit there until I'm "off work" because otherwise, I'm going to get distracted and, well, not do any work. I had plans to cook myself some eggs or something because we're running out of food (tomorrow is grocery day), but that didn't happen.
I wrapped up my work and went downstairs to prep for dinner -- steaks that needed to marinate for 4-5 hours. Cool. Done. And then... well, I realized I was hungry. I opened the fridge and stared at the mostly-empty shelves, and found the container that was supposed to be my lunch. Leftover zucchini noodles with meat sauce. I really, really did not want it. Okay, I thought, what else is there?
... Nothing. There was nothing. Other than eggs and the steaks that were marinating for dinner, we had no protein. Just a couple bowls of cut-up fruit and some vegetables. And the dregs of a bowl of homemade mayonnaise.
Crap. I wanted a sandwich. I wanted a big toasted sub with cheese and mayonnaise and all the other crapola I'm not supposed to have. I wanted a gigantic fountain soda and a bag of Miss Vickie's jalapeno flavored chips. And a chocolate chip cookie. I wanted a "normal" lunch.
So I decided I just wouldn't eat anything.
I went and sat down on the couch and texted Derek and told him how I felt. He, rationally (but not in so many words), told me I was being dumb and to suck it up, I didn't have a choice. And I had to eat. But I didn't wannaaaaaaaa.
*grumblegrowlgurgle*
Well, shit. I awoke the beast. And was that the beginning of a hunger headache I was feeling? Phooey. I needed food. I went back into the kitchen and stared at everything. I opened our pantry and stared at the (quite literally) nearly bare shelves. (Not even joking -- our stuffed-to-the-brim pantry was decimated; all that remains is half a shelf of random compliant canned goods and condiments. Sad.) Nothing.
I opened the fridge again and looked at the same things I had JUST looked at 20 minutes prior. Nope, Sarah, nothing new has appeared. There isn't magically any delicious crap-food waiting to be ingested. Just a bowl of sad, fake spaghetti. Sigh.
I steeled myself. And despite not being interested in eating it at all, I heated up that damn bowl of zucchini noodles + sauce. And I cut up an orange. And finished off the bag of baby carrots. And poured a gigantic glass of ice water. And I sat down and ate it and only grumbled a little bit. Like an adult.
I texted Derek a photo of what I ended up eating, and he praised me and told me I did a good job. I texted my best friend and she said she was proud of me. I know I did the right thing. But why do I feel so sad about it? I ended up not eating all of it (I ate plenty; I had just put way too much in the bowl) but felt satiated. The grumbles went away, as did that start of a headache. I didn't break plan. I did what I said I was going to do.
But it sucks. I know I'm doing the right thing and that the Whole30 is probably the best decision I've made regarding my health in a very long time. But, truth be told, this week (before today) was pretty easy. Today sucked, because it was a reminder that my patterns have to change. My behaviors and habits were terrible, and half the time they weren't even real desires -- they were just habits. But... they were mine. It was my comfort. Doctors appointments are stressful -- grab some chicken nuggets to eat on your ride across town (or across the County, in some instances). Here, a bucket of Diet Dr. Pepper will make you feel better.
And I miss it. I miss the ease, I miss the comfort. Everything is a production now. I can't just pop in somewhere and pick something up if I don't feel like cooking. Too bad, so sad, Sarah. Get your ass in the kitchen. Oh, you want a sandwich? Hahaha suck it, roast a chicken/grill a steak/bake some fish/spend 3 hours crafting a meal. Why can't restaurants just serve real food that tastes delicious so that I can have the best of both worlds? (Because life doesn't work that way, cupcake. Grow up.) (Mmm, cupcakes.) Most of all, I hate that getting healthy and losing weight means I have to sever my ties with everything I like. Sure, fast food is terrible and I could get over that... but what's wrong with a good sandwich every once in a while? Or a taco wrapped in a damn tortilla instead of in a freakin leaf of lettuce? Thinking that I'll never get to eat macaroni and cheese again makes me sad. Realizing that every single social outing or family get together or a random date night out will be complicated and require an inane amount of planning and that I'll always be the one that has to turn down the appetizers, and the bread basket, and have to fucking carry my own damn salad dressing in my purse makes me want to scream. Why can't I just be like everyone else. Everyone else who eats what they want but can shut it off when they're supposed to and they can just live. Normally.
I love to bake. It's cathartic and relaxing and provides me with a sense of accomplishment. But now, I can't, because I don't trust myself not to sample my own treats when I'm done with them. And I don't really have anyone to give them away to anyway. Aside from that, the thought that I can't ice a cupcake without getting some on my fingers, and then I have to be mindful to WIPE my fingers off instead of licking them because SUGARBADNONONO... Sigh. It's a lot. It's a lot to take in and a lot to handle and a lot to process and a lot to adjust to.
I know that I don't have a choice. Like I've said a jillion times, I'm doing the right thing. I just want to get to the point that everyone says I'm going to get to, where eating real food is second nature, and the bad stuff doesn't call my name. But... what if I don't get there? What if when the 30 days is up, and I start to reintegrate some of the non-compliant foods (which is the point of the plan)... I fall right back off the wagon and go back to square one? And gain back all the weight I have (theoretically) lost? What do I do then? Nothing else is left!
Ugh. I need a nap. This is hard.
What I Ate:
Breakfast: None. Please don't lecture me, I know I screwed this up.
Lunch: zucchini noodles with meat sauce, an orange, and carrots.
Dinner: Balsamic-rosemary marinated steaks, a couple of roasted baby potatoes, and broccoli.
How I Feel:
Physically? Same as always. Sleepy, but that's normal for me.
Mentally? I think you could figure that out if you read the wall of text above this. I'm sad. I'm frustrated. I'm anxious and scared and worried and annoyed and running out of steam.
But... the day is over. Another one down, 24 to go.
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