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30 after Whole30

March 7, 2015

So, today marks 30 days since I completed my second Whole30, and in the spirit of my honest pursuit of improved humanhood, it seemed appropriate to touch base here. It’s a day of reflection, realization and, OK, a tablespoon of shame. It goes fast; both the time and the downward diet spiral.

Last month I listened to Sarah Silverman’s audiobook The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption and Pee. In it, she
said:

“Look, there’s not much useful to take away from this book – it’s largely stories of a woman who has spent her life peeing on herself. But there is one way I really believe I can help the world, and that is to encourage everyone, in all things, to ‘Make It a Treat’.‘Make It a Treat’ is similar in spirit to ‘everything in moderation,’ but still very distinct. ‘Moderation’ suggests a regular, low-level intake of something. MIAT asks for more austerity; it encourages you to keep the special things in life special.”

With the simple substitution of my “Thin Mints” or “Butterburgers” in place of Sarah’s “weed” (which she goes on to point out is among her favorite treats), it’s completely applicable advice. I am realizing that I am a woman incapable of making things a treat.

Prompted by a whiff of fryer oil or hint of chocolate glaze, I can generate a list on the spot of reasons I deserve it. It’s Monday, and Mondays suck. It’s Friday and Fridays are for fatty foods and cocktails. It’s 10:30 and I was born at 10:30. See?

Needless to say – reigning this conversation back to its Whole30 roots ­–­ I fell right off the wagon and got run over by all the tires, including the spare. It’s not a total loss. I am aware of what I need to eat to feel lighter and more energetic, and isn’t that half the battle? I once worked out a deal with a coworker where he promised to live at my house and slap food out of my hand in exchange for him getting to eat said food. (It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had.)

But fly or fail, the great thing about the Whole30 community, particularly their killer Instagram feed, is you always have a voice deep down whispering, “There are too many ingredients in that.” “Sugar sucks the life out of you.” and, “Keep it simple, stupid.” And for that, I’m forever grateful.

On a weekday, I can hang in. Typically a version of this Tuna Salad for lunch, partnered with an apple and almond butter (Costco has sustainable tuna and a no-sugar almond butter option). But after a semi-sensible dinner, I go sniffing out chocolate like a shark tracking blood in the water. I once ate a chocolate Santa in April out of desperation. What … the …

It also seems like regularly working out makes me a garbage disposal. But boredom does the same thing, so that theory’s kind of shot to shit right out of the gate.

So, what can you do? Monday is 32 days past and as good a day as any to hit reset. The flu is finally being exorcised out of this house (I’ve been diffusing lemon oil like mad) and spring is like 13 days away so I should probably think about what people are going to see when these layers come off. Monday it is!

 

Wellness

What the scale said in February

March 2, 2015

Since the first time I stepped on to see my 3-digit starting point after Sloppy Joan (also known as the slap-out-of-denial dose of shame they prescribe at the postpartum checkup), I’ve had a daunting number hanging over my head. Now, something to keep in mind here, I’m not shooting for the supermodel-slim stars. I have my eyes on a prize that puts me simply within my “healthy” weight range and by and large, a bullseye for my BMI. And I know that being well is more than a number; it’s the way your denim doesn’t dig into your flat tire and the extra 30 minutes you can tack onto the family bike ride. Now that we have those pleasantries out of the way …

The scale says:
Down –  24 pounds
To Go – 23 pounds

This is a dance I’ve done before. I’ve done it three times, to be exact, and the partner is always the same. It’s a two-faced counterpart that consists of both an uber health-conscious chia-eater and a fried food/sugar addict who goes to bed with the first cookie she sees.I admire women who keep their weight down through each trimester and quickly bounce back to their beautiful selves. I equally admire those who fight like hell to lose every pint of Chubby Hubby, basket of fried pickles and bag of Cheetos, because they know what they did and they know their sentence is a year – or however long it takes – of awkward sweat, suffocating guilt and tough choices to get it off. So, obviously, I am a card-carrying member of the latter, and I’m only halfway out of the woods.
I feel less pressure to drop my extra l-bs as quickly this go-around. First of all, red carpet season is over (thank goodness), and second, we aren’t planning on more babies. I always felt like it was a race against my maternal clock to shed the weight before the next tenant checked into my uterus. This time, I know it’s a lifelong investment.
The plan. The progress.*
Whole30 – Completed February 5 (100%)
Kayla Itsines 12-week Bikini Body – On Week 6 (50%)
Join a gym – Officially members and finding a stride(3%)
Clean eating – Oy. (2.1%)
Half Marathon – Need to train to start training in July (1%)
Hike – Planning phase (2%)
Yoga – Every Sunday (10%)
Slim & Sassy essential oil – Skeptical, but it’s in the mail (5%)

*These percentages are based on complete bullshit because I don’t know how to do math or quantify something like “joining a gym”.

Wellness

Four ways to Whole30, family style

February 20, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … feed her family healthfully for a whole month without igniting an uprising.

Considering most eaters under the age of 10 (and often well beyond that) would rather sit through a marathon of The Lawrence Welk Show than eat a sweet potato, one is safe to assume that  month of massively healthy meals is going to go over like a pregnant pole vaulter. Not that I blame the kids, really. There are certain foods that are only acceptable to eat in that window between your first day of kindergarten and the first time you have to go to the grocery store and shop for your own sustenance. Things like Fruit Roll-Ups and tiny pieces of French toast made into cereal and candy sticks that you lick and then dip into granules of more sugar. They’re complete poison, but so much fun to eat!
In an ideal world – one where homes are installed with motion-sensored vacuums and muffin tops are just a sweet, starchy side – your kids would willingly devour the whole, natural foods you set before them. But in my house, anything other than a hot dog is met with a degree of distaste typically reserved for shots or “grown up shows”.With two rounds of the strict paleo Whole30 prescription behind me, I’ve acquired just shy of a handful of helpful ideas that might just buy you some slack (and hopefully success). That’s not to say these are gospel, but 60 percent of the time, they worked all the time.
1. when they deny, modify.
I liked to think of meals during those 30 days as a main course Mr. Potato Head. The base is the same for everyone at the table – say, it’s an actual potato in this case ­– but the accompaniments can be, to some degree, open to personal discretion. Let them dress their spud in shredded pork tenderloin, bacon, sour cream and cheese, while you pile on ghee, pork tenderloin, bacon and chives.more modifiable menu items: tacos or carnitas – Give them all the fixins, but make yours a salad with pico, guacamole and plantain chips for the crunch.burgers – Bypass the bun and play with some alternatives to sandwich your grassfed patty. I’ve tried giant mushrooms (good but messy), roasted sweet potato rounds (probably my favorite) and straight up with a fried egg.

chili – Compliant soup ingredients are often easy to find and comforting during colder months. Add plantain chips (tell yourself they’re Fritos) to your bowl while the kids nosh on a grilled cheese and oyster crackers with theirs.

eggs – Go for breakfast-dinner as a treat. Roll up their scramble in a flour
tortilla, but plate yours with a flavorful salsa, guacamole and approved bacon.

2. know your dealers.
It’s sad but shockingly true that eating healthfully, especially for a family of five, means paying more. Crap is cheap, apparently. In an effort to avoid blowing the budget, I had to source some of the good stuff outside of our neighborhood grocery.

Costco – Great for eggs, marinara, bacon, coconut oil and nuts (This post is great.)

Amish grocery store – Great for unsweetened coconut, dried fruit and dates, tapioca starch and almond meal

Vitacost and Amazon – Price check between these two for all oils, bars and
coconut flour

3. how they and your garden grow.
Start in the spring and plant the seeds, both literally and figuratively, with your kids. Put them in some old jeans, supply a small shovel and take them to a box of dirt. Do a quick search online and come to the great outdoors packing some killer, very careful not to be mundane here, factoids that turn their veggie-eating frowns upside down. It’s as simple as, “This is a bell pepper plant. Bell peppers have vitamin C, and vitamin C keeps colds away.” You smell what I’m steppin’ in.

 

If your thumbs are more Shellac than green, take the lesson to the produce section. Same concept. “This is an avocado. It has omega 3 fatty acids and those are good for your heart.” [Hand to side of mouth] “Plus, who doesn’t like a side of guac with their weekly marg, right? Am I right?”

Over the past five years, I’ve learned a few undeniable truths about these little folks. They always have to pee when the food comes. They have impenetrable selective hearing when within a 2-mile radius of anything animated. And they really, really want to grow. Tell them something will help them get big and strong like ___(insert favorite princess/superhero)____, and suddenly broccoli is their jam.
4. just try it on.
It’s tough love at its finest. They can not get up, watch a show, play with toys, have dessert, whatever gives them their jollies, until they at least try everything on their plate. Don’t put a big ole’ pile of sprouts on there. You’ll blow it. Just a few, entirely manageable pieces … nothing to freak out about. We go by age; five bites for JoJo, three bites for Spikey, etc. As soon as they comply, even if gagging ensues, we go ape shit with praise. Of course, it must be said, we do have about a 60 percent success rate here, with 35 percent abandonment and 5 percent actual vomit. Maybe put some newspaper down first or something.

Until next time …
Wellness

Whole30, we meet again.

February 13, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … Finish a second Whole30


In 2013, I was locked in a bitter battle between my goal weight and the final pounds remaining in a snail-paced descent from the second most epic weight gain in my history as human. To be fair, I did get a butterball of a baby (our second) in exchange for those 60+ notches on the scale. But now I needed a little nudge – nay, a complete overhaul – to bring it home and hit my prebaby digits. Buying into the buzz on the blogosphere, and at the urging of one of my dearest friends, I checked It Starts With Food out of the library and brought it along on a business trip to Austin.

The book and the Whole30 program were a lot to digest – pun intended – so I took the meat of the pages and created a short stack of cheat sheets. Copies of my primal packet in hand, I coerced a few girlfriends and my husband into joining me and my co-worker/great gal pal for a 30-day clean-eating adventure.

No dairy, legumes, wheat, sugar, alcohol, MSG (the hard stuff) or tobacco? It wasn’t an easy sell. But somehow, we made it. After a rocky start for the lady of the house (“Is this the flu? Or … what the hell is happening to me?” It’s called a sugar detox, and it ain’t pretty.) and one unfortunate peanut binge from the mister (“Well what the hell is a legume anyway?”), we logged 720 hours with nothing but clean, fiber-filled fuel and we felt great.

Putting all my cards on the table, I was skeptical. And then, about 9 days in, I tipped the cup back and drank the compliant Kool-Aid, so to speak. I was a convert. I mean, think about it. Almost everyone stuffing their face with the common American diet is struggling with some issue related to their skin, mood, energy, digestion, a food addiction, excess weight or sleep. Or, in my case, nearly all of those. The investment is really a little extra effort, with a return of health like you never knew your body was missing. You don’t know bad until you feel really, really freaking good.

A second date with W30.
Fast-forward to January of this year. Loaded down with baby weight (baby No. 3), a devil of a sugar addiction and just a general sloth state of being, I knew it was time to circle the wagons.

There were definite perks to shedding the amateur distinction. I felt more confident, prepared and excited for the “tiger blood” that sets in somewhere toward the middle-end. But every experience yields different lessons, and here are a few things I took away from this turn.

Whole30 lessons learned.

1) Pal up on Pinterest.  Create a board and start searching for #Whole30 recipes. If the pins are from cooks like me, they’ll have sweet little insights like, “add extra mustard”, “double the sauce”, “NOT. GOOD.”, etc. Take note of people’s notes, learn from their disastrous (and delicious) dinners and find pinners that speak to your palette to follow.

2) Basic is baller.  We’re in a safe place, so let’s just put it out there: Cauliflower crust is a paleo urban legend. You have a friend who makes the best cauliflower crust breadsticks with cashew cheese? Well, I’ve got $10 to Pizza Hut that says that’s bullshit. Let’s just stop the lies. I sabotaged so many meals on my first Whole30 by trying to make our usual food fit the requirements. Avoid the pitfalls and strive for whole, easy dishes that don’t involve “deconstruction” or anything “reimagined”.

The Chew’s Baked Artichoke Chicken, for example, took no more than 15 minutes to assemble and called for very few substitutions. It’s delicious on a manic Monday night. For a speedy Chinese takeout vibe, get this Ground Beef Stir Fry with Wilted Napa Cabbage poppin’ in your wok. This was my favorite dinner over the entire 30 days. Let’s make a pact right here, right now to skip the molecular gastronomy and agree we just aren’t fancy enough for that shit.

3) More is still not enough.  The best thing about eating so clean, is you can eat a ton of the foods on the list and still reap rewards. Let yourself get hungry and you’re screwed. Whether you stay at home all day or take your talents elsewhere, never find yourself without an approved option. Embrace fruit, LÄRABAR®, (Blueberry Muffin and Cashew Cookie got me through more than one instance where it was just me and a box of bear claws in a meeting room.), chopped veggies, crumbled bacon (Costco has approved options), guacamole packs, plantain chips and nuts as your new indulgences. That said, try to avoid grazing. [insert cow audio]

4) Bring your posse to the party.  I had a great group of gals from the office show up to the dance this time and it was a game changer. Exchanging recipes, gripes and victories can be the difference between dropping out on day 10 and considering a Whole90. (Yes, I actually did that.)

5) Prepare your pitch.  Sad but true, everyone from your mother to your waitress is going to question your “new crazy diet”. Practice a 2-minute elevator pitch explaining why you’re doing it, why it’s awesome and why it’s not for everyone. That way, when you hear this …

You: No, thank you.
Them: What, you don’t like mac ‘n cheese all the sudden?
You: Well, I’m doing this thing called Whole30. 
Them: What the hell is that?
You: It’s basically where you cut out processed crap and just eat whole foods for 30 days. 
Them: I eat whole foods … In fact, I’m gonna eat this whole plate of mac ‘n cheese right now.
[Pause while they snort-laugh at their massively original wit.]
You, if Carrie Bradshaw-esque voice-overs were a legit thing: Have fun slammin that Velveeta and being backed up for 3 days, son.

… for the billionth time, you’ll have a big can of verbal mace shaken and ready. You don’t need criticism but it’s natural for people to doubt what’s different. Indulge their curiosity and then shut. it. down.

Skip to the end.
After a weeklong carb/sugar exorcism and subsequent 23 days of relative successes, I lost 6 pounds (before and after pics to come … never), slept like a champ, felt completely clear-headed, had a bloat level of zero, and enjoyed sustainable energy from 5:15 am to my melatonin meltaway at 9 pm sharp. Yes, I would 100 percent recommend it. Yes, it is hard (I’m talking to you, Reese’s in the shape of a Christmas tree. You sweet temptress.). But above all of that, you can procure this cute shirt and Instagram it with a boastful, yet humble, caption at the end, and isn’t that really what it’s all about? Now go forth and purge your pantries! May the cream stay ever out of your coffee and the donuts dry and stale.

Until next time …