Once or twice a year I like to torture myself and do some kind of cleanse – usually I do the Master Cleanse, which entails nothing but drinking lemon water with cayenne pepper and maple syrup for 10 days, coupled with laxative tea and salt water flushes. As you can imagine, it’s a very attractive and comfortable process. This go-around my girlfriend Jenn suggested instead we do The Whole 30. While it required a longer time commitment, it was much less limiting dietary wise. You essentially cut out gluten, dairy, grains, sugar, and alcohol; which in actuality leaves you plenty of options. I don’t indulge in this kind of thing to lose a pants size, although that would be nice, but it’s a good reset for both mind and body and moving towards making more conscious decisions regarding what you consume. I figured it may be worthwhile to document how it’s going, as I go. If this week is any indication, it should be at least mildly entertaining.
4: My calendar alerts me it’s day 4. Before this very moment I was bragging about how great I felt – strong, full of clarity, “I like being confident that only good things are going into my body,” I said like a pretentious douchebag. It’s 5:03pm and I fear I’ve hit the inevitable crash I’ve read about that I was sure I was going to somehow hurdle over effortlessly. We’ve had fun with it thus far – I feel so satisfied with the meals we’ve created: Mustard and Balsamic Porkchops, Southwestern Tortilla Soup (sans tortilla) We’ve made homemade vingerettes and Mayonnaise and I don’t feel starved in the slightest. But right now my head hurts and I’m pretty sure I could fall asleep with my eyes open like a goldfish. I think I’ll try because if nothing else it will freak my coworkers out. I just want a beer, some cheetos, and an endless nap that isn’t death.
6: It feels like a hangover without any of the fun from the night before. It’s not the dietary restrictions themselves that are getting to me – I honestly am not missing gluten, cheese, or even beer. You’d think working at a Brewery would make this more difficult but instead people are supportive, curious, and a few coworkers have even joined in with their own versions. One coworker is doing the Whole 30 but retaining gluten as she doesn’t eat meat, some are abstaining from ale over-indulgence, others just making a conscious effort to pick out healthier meals or work-out. I keep telling everyone it’s not a contest – making good decisions in how you treat your body is a win no matter what that looks like. Then I gently remind them if it was a contest, I’d totally be winning.
That being said, my body is slowly learning there are no easy-access sugars to pull energy from, and my brain is like “WTF? Hamburgers, though.” It was only a matter of time before my emotions joined this conquest and it looked a little something like this: our landlord thinks “fixing” something is buying what is needed to do the job and leaving it on our front porch. Before his son would come and fix stuff but maybe he finally realized we were lesbians and not roommates and thought to himself “Oh, Lesbians! They must be handy!” At my Birthday our shoddy bathroom door fell off within two hours of the party starting – despite our best efforts to repair it the wood was stripped and we ended up using a tapestry in lieu of a door, which was great. You know, for one night – not two weeks. After multiple texts and the general runaround, I decided to take matters into my own hands and consult the internet.
After reading I could reseal the holes with toothpicks and wood glue, I thought “Well whoever wrote this was obviously high, but trying can’t really hurt.” Guess what. SHIT WORKED. I fixed a motherfucking door with toothpicks, and no longer had to crap behind a curtain. This gave me an inflated surge of confidence which is why I thought I could replace the filler in my toilet tank by myself. Our toilet had been running a lot and once again our landlord figured since I was a lesbian, I was probably also a plumber. To be fair my ass does hang out of my pants 90% of the time. I installed it, no sweat, until I hooked everything back up. Water spewed from the hose every time I attempted to turn the water back on, showering both me and the bathroom. Instead of handling this like an adult (which I eventually did) I proceeded to cry in a puddle of toilet water – sobbing with a wrench in hand saying: “I broke our toiletttttt. It will never work againnnn!” I realize now I was overreacting, and Jenn would probably pay good money for the picture of me sitting there, makeup smudged from what was either crying or toilet water spray to the face. Scotty – friend, my old bar regular, and Genuine American Hero came over and identified the issue within five minutes – I was missing the small rubber piece that sat in the coupling nut to form a water tight seal. It sat sadly by the sink, forgotten; a small but indubitably important piece of the puzzle.
They don’t mention this on the “What Happens To Your Body on the Whole 30” detox article, but I’m going to go ahead and say Day 6 is where you feel a little cray.
7: I’m feeling more like myself again. I ended up procuring somewhat of a sinus infection in the last 24 hours, another real “fuck you, gimme some pasta,” message from my body I’m sure. I mean I know consciously I’m stubborn, but I had no idea how silently bitchy my inner-workings were. According to the timeline I’m 5 days away from boundless energy, and roughly 9 days away from having tiger blood. I’ll let you know when I get there.