In my infinite wisdom, I decided that today was the best day to start a diet. Not just any diet – a detox diet. A diet that, as it turns out, was designed by the devil himself and the kind of diet that Dante had in mind when he was thinking about cuisine for the seventh circle. The food is great but it isn’t Sainsbury’s large chocolate chip cookies, it isn’t wine and it isn’t toast loaded with butter so deep you can see your teeth marks in it.
While I’m not fat, I’m fudgy, squigdy, a little bit cupcakey around the edges. I can’t even blame the baby. I was one of those annoying people that got on the scales the day after I gave birth and discovered I’d put on 10lbs. Six of those I lost in the first two weeks of breastfeeding.
BUT…before you want to punch me in the face I did suffer from haemorrhoids, varicose veins and, to be completely honest, my trampolining days are well behind me. So, not all good news on the physical front.
Lately, though I’ve been giving up on the three-meal-a-day routine in favour of snacking. On toast. Four pieces at a time. With so much butter it would make a cow yawn with exhaustion just looking at it. I might wash that down at the end of the day with a couple of glasses of wine. Also, a little while ago I gave up sugar and felt fantastic; part of that meant going to full-fat everything (they add sugar to low-fat stuff to keep flavour once they take out the yummy fat FYI) and while the sugar has sneaked its way back in, I’m still stuffing my face with full fat milk/butter/yoghurt etc.
So, I needed a serious kick up my ever-growing ass to restore my eating habits from frumpy-fatness to ab-fabulous.
Enter Whole 30.
It’s a bitch of diet. For thirty days you can’t eat dairy, sugar, grains, beans and, yep…you guessed it, booze. Basically, you’re allowed to eat meat, fruit, veg, nuts and THANK GOD…coffee. That’s it.
Today is Day 1. At 4.59pm I genuinely thought I might die. I thought that coming off sugar so abruptly may have sent my body into such a state of shock that it was slipping slowly and definitely into a coma. I walked through the door with the Small – the thought of cooking her SpagBol and not being able to eat any of it made me want to chew on my fingers until they were stubs – and made a pot of coffee. I put a straw in it and drank and you know what? I started to feel better. Yes, it was black coffee and yes it didn’t have any sugar or sweetener in it but it literally saved my life.
So, I’m a momma on a diet and I’m still trying to be a compassionate human being. I’m hoping this gets easier but I’m told that day 10 is the worst. I’ll let you know how I get on. I’m upping the exercise, I’m upping the sleep, I’ve knocked all the bad stuff on the head and I’m asking YOU to hold me accountable. I already am part of an FB support group (yes, it’s THAT hard) but it’s not enough. I need YOU.
So, join me. Or not. But if you get a minute of quiet and you’re idly whiling away some time checking Facebook or Instagram…feel free to drop in and cheer me on. I have no will-power…I just have a bikini that makes me shudder when I look at it and a pair of jeans that I spent way too much money on to sit and look at from a distance.
Let’s do this.