I started the Whole 30 yesterday. I think most folks know what it entails, but boiled down to the basics it means eating essentially only meats and vegetables, like a cave person. Ironically, though, I spent pretty much the entire day in prep mode, trying to get ready for 30 days of ‘real food,’ with no sugar, alcohol, grains, legumes (which includes soy, which is in pretty much EVERYTHING), dairy, or sulfites (or MSG or carageenan). Thankfully, I love my kitchen and have no job.
As I was engaged in all this prep work, some alternative names for this diet popped into my mind:
- The Buy Lots of Weird Shit diet. What in the hell is a coconut amino? I don’t know, but apparently one substitutes it for soy sauce when soy sauce is banned. And if you’re a fat lazy bastard like myself who purchases groceries via Instacart, you’re gonna have to hit Whole
PaycheckFoods. Other fun things you never knew you needed: special fish sauce (ONLY RED BOAT, ya’ll– the bloggers and diehards are fucking adamant about this), coconut oil, arrowroot flour, almond flour, coconut milk, and marrow from the bones of free range baby buffalo raised only on prairie grass in Andalusia (you use it to make a spread that is to die for on a baked sweet potato, and you’re going to be eating LOTS of sweet potatoes). Ok, I made the last one up. Truth be told I don’t even know where Andalusia is, and they probably don’t have bison there. The point is, I feel like I’m in an episode of Portlandia when shopping for this plan.
- The Use and Wash Every Dish in Your Kitchen Diet. Yesterday I made mayonnaise (seriously, this whole thing is outta control, ya’ll), spatchcocked and seasoned a chicken for roasting later in the week (not because I’m going to eat it, but because I wanted to be able to type spatchcock in my blog. SpatchCOCK. Yes, I’m 12 years old on the inside), riced a cauliflower (yes, I hate me too), seasoned some ground pork to make chorizo (because the shit ya buy has sugar in it, of course), scrambled some eggs, mixed up a spice rub, and made egg roll in a bowl. Which means I washed two cutting boards, two knives (multiple times), two skillets, the food processor, and many many many many bowls and plates. As an added bonus, I also got to wash a cookie sheet Elise used to bake crescent rolls. Turns out stapling your mouth shut is a great way to avoid the temptation of noshing on the crumbs left behind. I also washed my hands about 70 times, I think. One of the perks of this diet is supposed to be improved skin, but as of right now, my hands have a most lovely sandpaper feel and appearance to them.
- The Google ‘Is ________ Whole 30 Compliant?’ 700 times a day Diet. Xanthan gum? Potassium lactate? Sunflower lecithin?
- The Where the Fvck Are my Readers Diet. Are fonts on ingredient labels getting smaller??? Did cave people struggle with this?
Fortunately, I attempted this diet a few years ago, so none of these alternate names were altogether surprising to me. I say attempted because I think I made it to about day 22. I knew going in I wasn’t going to make 30, because I had a visit planned with friends I hadn’t seen in many, many moons; so I enjoyed wine and margaritas and lots of dairy laden Mexican food while with them. And I did so with zero guilt. Sue me.
There were some definite benefits. I felt better. I lost weight. I ate less shit. All good things. And yet, I didn’t ever plan on doing another Whole 30.
But, here I am. Years have past. Pounds have been added. Exercise has diminished drastically. It’s definitely an appropriate time to hit the reset button.
Despite my snarkasm, my main reason for doing this now (as well as when I did it years ago) is that it makes sense. I read the book (should probably re-read it, but…) in hopes it would seem utterly ridiculous and arm me with plenty of info to make fun of people who do it. Instead I bought in.
And now I’m buying in again. Like most good for me things, it’s effing hard. But hard is not impossible. And my eating and lack of exercise have landed me in a place where I’ve got to do something, so here I am. And, for now, it’s all good.
I do, however, really want a cheeseburger.