Hey January. I have mixed feelings about you so far. Let’s hash this out, hm?
Whole30 update. It’s day 8. I’ve managed to have meals at two restaurants (a Cracker Barrel and an Outback Steakhouse) and managed to eat cleanly (enough) both times. Screw you, biscuits and bloomin’ onion! (Not really.. I mean, I’ll see you later… just right now’s not a good time for me and you. You are delicious and handsome as always.)
Let’s just put this out there: I don’t know how Whole30 people do this with people in their house (in this case, my father-in-law) who are simply unsupportive of the Whole30. Or, shit, anything having to do with making choices that don’t involve saying yes to pizza and ice cream. Let’s also point out that 99% of the time, I am a go-with-the-flow person. You wanna do that? Sure, let’s do it. Wanna go there? I’ll drive. You may never meet a more amenable person.
Except if I’m in the middle of Whole30-ing myself. It’s a commitment, yo. It’s only 30 days. That’s the fucking point. The reason, for me, that it “works” is tied directly to the strictness of not only the food, but the timeline. “Works” not necessarily to lose weight (although that helps), but to manage my tenancies to overindulge if given the opportunity, and to manage the avalanche of over indulgences that often follows.
If for booze and dessert alone, doing the Whole30 again was necessary. I cannot drink a double bourbon seven days a week. I cannot have dessert every night after dinner. And without reminding myself that I have the choice to not do these things, I simply don’t have the willpower to resist.
January initially felt like totally the wrong month to be doing this. Wrong as in, the hardest. The fact that two more adults and three cats are living in my house for an undetermined amount of time is a breeding ground for beer and pie therapy. One of these people also actively refers to the Whole30 as “That Stupid Diet” in the same tone that he speaks about Obama while watching Fox News.
But then again, January seems to be the perfect time. It’s almost like, a militant training ground for willpower, which is something I struggle with during the Whole30 Off-Season. I mean, c’mon now. I sat right by the man while he crunched popcorn (popped on the stove in Crisco) and sipped a frosty Pepsi. Was I totally irritated? Yes. Did I cave? No. Did I leave the room? I thought about it. But did it make it easier to cut RR a piece of that weirdly sweet brown Outback bread last night, spread butter on it, and pass it on down, and not want to shove the whole thing in my mouth? Yeah, a little. Progress.
I mean, I’ve already lost custody of my couch naps, my recliner, my remote control, and walking around the house naked. What’s one more comfort, right?
I’m also coping with my mother in law, who insists that she’s doing the Whole30, too, but totally isn’t, as she orders the salad covered in blue cheese dressing and candied pecans.
January isn’t just about food, but how M and I are coping with our new roommates in general. Oh, and how RR spent the last week of December and first of January being a totally unrecognizable child – partly due to being out of school for two weeks, and also having grandparents around. Thankfully, this week, she has resumed to being a much more reasonable kid now that she’s back in school.
In roommate news, they closed on their new house yesterday. They don’t plan to move into it for a long while (floors to be sanded, furniture to haul across the country, etc.), but it’s something. It certainly is something.