Twenty days ago, I decided to take on the Whole 30 Challenge. Basically, you eat Paleo (with some extra restrictions) for 30 days. I did it because I wanted to see if cutting certain things out of my diet would improve my, let’s say, GI distress. Ok I’m bloated and farty a lot of the time. I wanted to get rid of that.
For the first 15 days, I killed it. I found an amazing cookbook (Well Fed by Melissa Joulwan) that has given me so many delicious, Whole 30-approved recipes. I batch-cooked meats. I clarified butter. I stuffed more veg down my gullet than I ever have. I tried jicama and cauliflower rice. I was never hungry, even though I was only eating three times a day (instead of the 6 that seem to be the nutrition hotness lately). I lost a few pounds and saw more definition in my midsection.
But what happened on Day 16? I got tired of following dietary dogma (again).
I get that the idea of a challenge is to challenge yourself. This did challenge me, but surprisingly not as much as I feared. I thought giving up dairy would kill me, but actually I’m doing fine without my beloved cheese. When I stopped doing the Whole 30, I didn’t go crazy with some bread and cheese. I had some popcorn with clarified butter. For the next week or so, I was probably 90% Whole 30 compliant.
Then yesterday, all hell broke loose. I had my typical breakfast (egg/egg whites scramble with meat and veg). Then we went to a barbecue and all I had was about half a bag of tortilla chips. I had to physically remove myself from the room to stop eating them. Did I mention I love tortilla chips? They don’t love me – at least not en masse like that. That experience confirmed to me that my body is not a big fan of corn.
I think my out-of-left-field, out-of-control day was good for me, though. In the past, a day like yesterday would have knocked my self esteem down several pegs. “Oh Sara, you idiot. You just completely ruined your nutrition/fitness goals and now you’re going to be a big fatty. Nice work.” Now, I’m not pleased with how upset my stomach feels right now, but I’m not beating myself up. It was one frickin’ day. That means nothing in the grand scheme of things. I’ll suffer the GI consequences today while getting my eating back on track and then we’ll be all good.
But please, next time i decide to murder a bag of tortilla chips, I hope I remember the sharp pains in my tummy right now. Oy!