Whole 30 (Day 0) — Or — The Multitudes

Today has been a very prolific day of meal preparation. I like to cook a big meal on Sunday anyhow to set myself up with lunch leftovers for the week. But today has been different. I woke up and first thing this morning did an epic Fairway run. $169 later I had purchased enough food for all of my meals the next 7+ days. Included in that $169 are ingredients I am embarrassed to mention. Coconut oil? YES! Coconut flour? I did it. The oddly expensive almond butter? In my kitchen right now. Hipster hot sauce (without sugar)? Yeah. To make matters worse I rode my CITIBIKE to Fairway, and I might have arrived before 9am.

Why?

Because I got it into my head that I needed, as I have explained to a few friends, “to go on a crazy diet.” I wasn’t sure right away which “crazy” diet I was going to do, but rather unscientifically, I ended up with the Whole 30. Largely because this diet is one whose advertising I am most familiar with. Also, I’ve witnessed a few whole 30’s (virtually for the most part) and it doesn’t seem terrible.

Why the “crazy diet” talk? From me specifically?

For starters I am not slender. I am not considered of average size. I am decidedly … Big. Large. Voluptuous. Fat. Chunky. And that’s cool actually. I am stubbornly determined not to compare myself to 120 pound folks and think that is what health, fitness and attractiveness looks like. Honestly my motivation for avoiding that comparison is all about self-care. If I really and truly held myself to that 120 pound standard of beauty? I would always feel like a failure. I will never (no really) NEVER be a slender person. I just won’t. And I’m down with that.

However, despite all my big talk (ha), I am feeling a little too big for my breeches. Ironically, because I am anti-scale, I couldn’t actually tell you whether I have gained weight recently or not. It could all be in my head. But, based on how my clothes feel and a few photos I’ve compared … I contain a few too many multitudes. I could talk for a long time about all the dumb things I think about my weight and society and feminism but that is for another time.

Fine. I’ll say it. I want there to be less of me.

BUT — more importantly — I want to rethink my diet.

Living in NYC in my studio apartment with a mere 6 inches of counter space, I definitely eat out too much. In general I don’t make horrible food choices, but I think I eat carelessly. I am often overwhelmed with work or social plans and just eat…something. The weeks when I am thoughtful about my diet, I feel good. The weeks when I am not…I feel less good. Interestingly I should mention that when I say “less good” I am absolutely not talking about physically. I am mostly talking about mentally less good.

A friend who has just finished a Whole 30 recently said one of her motivations for tackling this particular diet was because she felt she was an “emotional eater.” When she said this to me I smugly thought, “I am so not an emotional eater.” But then I listened to her define what she meant…and quickly realized…I do all those things all the time.

Bad day at work — “I so need a glass of wine.”

Great day at work — “ALL THE BEERS!”

Extreme crankiness — “I really need some chinese food.”

Extreme happiness — “Let’s go to Shake Shack.”

I don’t like that. Especially the alcohol business up there. Because that boozy struggle … is real (as the kids on the internet like to say).

So why not just stop drinking for a bit and maybe cook a bit more?

That just seems…too nebulous. I recently talked with friends about how I thought perhaps personal growth should be more like an agile development sprint. There should be clear iterations. Clear deliverables. Clear metrics for success (or KPIs if you are going to be super corporate about it). And perhaps, of utmost importance, reflection on what worked/what didn’t work. There should be an acceptance of course correction. Goals shouldn’t be many months out, they should be NOW. And you should know if you are fucking-up…NOW.

So that is how I got here. 30 days of thinking about food and my diet. A reset.

And then? We’ll see.