Wednesday, February 1, 2017


Before I start writing today, notice that this post will be twice as many as I wrote ALL of last year - and it's only February! (Look at me, pretending people read this. Hi kids! Hi sisters! Hi Heather!)

So I started my Whole30 on January 1. If you're not familiar with the program, it is 30 days of eating healthy protein, fats, vegetables, and fruit. No bread, no grains, no alcohol, no dairy, no added sugar, or legumes. There are other rules to the program, but these are the basics. It wasn't hard to follow, except that I kept feeling progressively worse. Our daughter Emily was doing her third Whole30, and I asked her if this was normal. It felt like a cross between the worst labor pains ever and being kicked in the stomach. After five days of this, I went to the doctor. And except for regular check-ups or injuries, I NEVER go to the doctor. After several hours of uncomfortable medical exams, I was diagnosed with diverticulitis. It perhaps had nothing to do with the Whole30 except temporally, but I'm not taking chances with that much fun again. So while I was waiting for my Cipro to be filled, I walked to the coffee shop next door and had a scone and a latte. Mmm...dairy AND gluten...

Now that all my intestinal flora has basically been killed off, I am back to normal. January 23rd was the first day I felt like myself. And how do I know this specifically, you ask? Well, since last September, I have been keeping a bullet journal, which is a consolidation of all the lists I had scattered all over the house and in my mind. And on the 23rd, I marked that I was starting to feel good.

So even though I didn't do a Whole30, I watched what I ate and tried to keep the not-so-good-for-me foods to a minimum. Not absent, mind you, just not with the reckless abandon that characterized the holiday season. And what do you know? 5.5 pounds gone. Now I KNOW I'm more than a number on a scale, but that number needed to be just a little lower or I'd have to buy all new clothes. While I've always worked out, after one particularly tough workout, I realized I had been phoning it in for awhile. I've since amped up the pace a bit, both cardio and weights.

The funny thing about exercise is that I never regret it - when it's over. But when I'm feeling not quite myself, the last thing I want to do is work out, even though I know it will make me feel better. Talk about a Catch 22! (Side note: Harry Connick, Jr was guest-hosting on the Today Show yesterday, and he said that he hasn't missed a day of working out in seven YEARS. Dang.)

I did keep one part of Whole30: I have not had a drink since New Year's Eve, so except for the champagne we had at midnight that night with our friends, this girl has been dry all of January. It's the longest I've gone without alcohol since I was pregnant with Erin, and that was in 1988. I had wanted to make it a month and I did, although I admit I was tempted last night. Today, not so much. I'll keep you posted on that front. Weird, arbitrary rules, I know.

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