We are now in the freakin’ 20’s as far as days go. Did I think I would make it this far? Jesus Christ guys – yes, yes I did. I’m not that pathetic, it’s only 30 days. Give me a little credit, okay? I mean I have vomited out the back window of a cab, almost had a threesome dressed as Mr. T, and attempted to pierce my own belly-button when I was 15, but I’ve really dialed in my shit since then. Here’s how things are currently going:
17: I finally don’t feel like the hand of the grim reaper is reaching out to get me. That’s a little dramatic – I had a cold. This week has been a full of promise, new meals, and lessons to be had. Bottom line is I can finally gauge how my body is feeling, and while it’s not exactly “tiger blood,” I feel good. Honestly this whole experience hasn’t been as difficult, oppressive, or full of tribulations as I thought. Have I cheated? I wouldn’t call it “cheating” per say but in a 17 day span I will admit I’ve had about 16 total ounces of beer (yes, I’ve calculated exactly how many samples of beers I’ve tasted) I knew working at a Brewery would present its own challenges. Surprisingly it’s not coworkers nudging me towards after work ale-indulgence, but things like having to approve a menu for a beer pairing dinner and helping rewrite descriptions for a multitude of brands in our catalog – I am not trying to make excuses because beer is my job. It’s been a series of sips at best and overall I am pleased to report I’ve done well in balancing work life with the Whole 30 as much as some days have tried me.
18: Are you sick of hearing about what I’m pinteresting, cooking, and eating? If the answer is “yes,” why are you reading my blog, and why don’t you support me in my life endevours? You’re a horrible person. Delicious dishes I enjoyed this week have included: Buffalo Chicken Zucchini Boats, a fun twist on this recipe (jalapeno and bacon stuffed turkey burgers), Chicken Pho with spiralized Daikon in lieu of rice noodles, and some baller ass meatballs with gravy. One thing I will definitely retain from the Whole 30 is the joy of meal planning. Not only does it translate to less thinking IRL, but when you buy with intention you don’t end up with spoiled veggies, or nights where you pretend you’re on the show ‘Chopped’ because you’re trying to make dinner with bok choy, marinara sauce, and a frozen TV dinner. It’s hard to believe we’re headed into our last full week, and you better believe we plan on going out guns blazing.
21: One thing this experience has taught me, is how fucking productive I am when there’s not a box of wine within 20 paces of me. We’ve crafted enough to make Martha Stewart look like an asshole, and most nights after dinner we go for WALKS AROUND THE BLOCK. This is something my Mother used to do and the fact I’m following in her literal footsteps terrifies me. This weekend we had one goal: to paint our living room. When we first went to look at the house we live in, the landlord’s son pointed out while they had painted every other room – they’d maintained the living room as the walls in there had “specialty work” done. The special part was that it was sponge painted – and the even more special part was that it wasn’t the 90’s so the allure of this was no longer appealing to my decorative style. Not to mention the base color was a dark charcoal grey, with a flesh-toned spongey overcoat.
It took 2 coats of primer & paint, and approximately eight hours of labor but we can now sit on our couch without having seizures, and don’t have to make a joke about it the second someone walks in our front door. In addition to that we successfully completed a shload of yardwork and I used an edger/trimmer for the first time. Seriously, what is wrong with me? The amount of things I haven’t done at the age of 31 kind of straddles a line somewhere between astonishing and concerning.
The moral of this story is similar to the idea of meal planning – I feel as though in the same light I am prioritizing and planning my time a little better and doing a lot of projects. Since I am being calculated in my diet and day-to-day, by proxy I am getting shit done. The other day I even went and got an eye exam. You know when my last prescription expired? Four years ago. I’ve been ordering contacts from a website in Canada because they don’t require you to provide proof of prescription.
I feel like I should end this entry with some wisdom, some cliffhanger as I trudge into my final week – but instead I’m going to go ahead and let you know I stopped by a friend’s house earlier today and she had a bottle of vodka out on the coffee table and I straight made sweet, penetrating love to it with my eyes. Until next week…