Whole30 Day 11 : Making Breakfast Great Again

8:53 a.m.

N.A.U.S.E..A.

9:03 a.m.

I’m pretty sure we went to bed at like 11 last night. I’m not positive because I didn’t check the time, but I know it was early. And we didn’t wake up this morning until just before 9. It’s raining outside and I want to sleep all day. Somewhere during the night you hope you are transformed back to your 12 year old self and will be waking up soon to enjoy Saturday morning pancakes and cartoons with your family. But here I am, 31 and grumpy, looking forward to another rendition of the omelette.

9:09 a.m.

“Alright, what sounds good to you?”

“Nothing.”

I’m drinking another cashew milk smoothie because that’s all I can get down. I’m intently visualizing my boxing coach punching me in the face repeatedly this morning until I wake up at the end of January.

I open the fridge.

“I guess I’ll have two pieces of bacon with rotisserie chicken and the leftover soup.”

What the fuck happened to Honey Nut Cheerios?

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I am not surprised that La La Land cleaned up last night. I mean, they were smart going into the comedy and musical section. That’s like me walking into Montgomery Middle School and asking to fight their toughest kid. But the fact Captain Fantastic didn’t get a nod for best picture only further evidenced the lack of smart and interesting people in this world. Granted, the Golden Globes are like the  Good Sportsmanship trophies of the film industry.

Alexis is trying to sell me on this new hand soap we got. Saying it will be really effective at getting all the grease off our hands. “It’s the little things,” she suggests.

Today is a Monday like every other Monday. Only it’s raining and I’m three days since the last time I felt hungry. The only thing I’m holding out for is the thought that maybe my body is still transitioning through the “carb flu.” I have these hopes that one morning I’m going to wake up and crave a piece of dino kale. I know I keep hinting at this, but I can’t believe alcohol, tobacco, and processed sugars are legal while marijuana is still categorized as a drug. If that doesn’t deeply disturb you and make you think about the intentions of our government, the people who are supposed to be protecting our best interest, then it’s obvious the sugar has already taken control of your brain. I crave tortilla chips. Like, with desperation. That cannot be in my best interest. Thanks FDA.

9:15 a.m.

If I buy dishes that actually look like normal household decorations then perhaps instead of cleaning them all I day I can just kind of move them around.

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All of these dishes were used to make two ounces of Whole30 drinking water.

9:21 a.m.

I think it’s time I try to alter my mindset. As a professional Find What’s Wronger I have been given unlimited access to criticisms these last ten days. It has been a gold mine for my anger. But maybe something good is on the horizon. Or rather that good is happening now and my focus is complete shit.

9:30 a.m.

I don’t know if you know this but we live above a toy store. Which is quite a good opening for a romance novel turned horrible tragedy but it’s not necessarily so good for real life. Because next to the toy store is a classroom for babies and tiny children and their sleep-deprived and, therefore, potentially psychotic mothers. And I don’t know if these moms are really just in a rock band together but the drumming class for 6 month olds sounds like a Bon Jovi concert. There is no way that tiny little children could be enjoying this much noise. I walked down there and saw a little girl foaming at the mouth.

9:35 a.m.

Oh god. I dropped an entire piece of bacon on the ground. Woody is demolishing it. I hate him. Now he’s after the chicken on my chair.

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He actually couldn’t reach it and that was heartbreaking so I gave it to him.

11:15 a.m.

There is no such thing as tiger blood. You’re supposed to get this kick of energy around the ten day mark. I remember hints of it in the first week but all I have now is the blood of a sloth. After every round with my boxing coach the first words out of my mouth were, “Fuck.” Then I shamefully walked to a machine about chest height so I could lean on it and try not to die. You can’t sit though. That means you’re weak. Needless to say, I was not a force of nature during my session.

There was a nice note from a nice lady when I got home though.

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#squadgoals #relationshipgoals #imreallyhungry

11:37 a.m.

Woody won’t stop trying to pull me across the street. All day yesterday. So far twice today. He looks at me, acts natural, and then secretly tries to walk over there. I’m like, dude, you’re on a leash. Doesn’t stop him from trying. So I finally decided to entertain him. Follow his pull. And he takes me straight to the place where they hold the puppy classes and he stares through the gate at the empty lot. Alexis says he’s trying to show me what he does at school. That’s what dog people do, they pretend their dogs are people.

1:19 p.m.

Just got back from a meeting with Jonny Tarr, my musician friend. We recorded some music videos for him a few months ago. We’re going to start doing monthly videos for his YouTube channel. Covers and original music.

Guess where Alexis was when I got back?

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1:44 p.m.

We’re all just anxiously awaiting this bread that is coming out of the oven soon.

“Will you be upset if it doesn’t turn out good?”

“Umm.”

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.”

So, very difficult to express the different channels of disappointment. I am not at all upset with her heroic efforts in the kitchen during this “journey.” I am, however, destroyed when something doesn’t turn out well because that means I am only falling deeper into the pit of food despair.

I need to do my taxes.

1:55 p.m.

“Four minutes,” she says.

Perfect time to go take a dump and clear some space. Have been feeling the pressure in my lower abdomen for a while but no real motivation to get up. This is the motivation I was looking for.

2:12 p.m.

“Did the bread come out?”

“It has to cool for an hour.”

“An hour?! What fucking year is this?!”

How does anyone live like this. Ten hours to soak, one hour to bake, one hour to cool. You’d be dead before you ever had a chance to eat. The recipe should be called, The Original Bread. Am I supposed to start foraging? Do I need to buy one of those books that tells you which plants are edible?

2:25 p.m.

It doesn’t exactly look like bread. It kind of looks like this video I saw of a panda bear birthing. They are deceptively small.

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3:27 p.m.

“Oh my god, it’s bread!”

It’s bread people!

She put it in the toaster oven and then covered with avocado and I caught myself accidentally reaching my hand down the front of my pants as I was chewing.

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It’s raw cashew butter, homemade almond milk, coconut flour, eggs, baking soda, sea salt, and maybe one or two other things. We omitted the honey because we wanted to stay compliant and avoid going to another Whole30 AA meeting. This bread needs to be in a museum somewhere. It is so damn good.

3:29 p.m.

Dear Jesus, as I’m into religious names for important moments, Melissa Hartwig just shared my blog. You know who she is? I hope so, otherwise this is less exciting than I thought. Anyway, she’s the founder of the Whole30. It’s this diet I’m doing. Only it’s not a diet as they say in the book, it’s a slow and painful trip into poverty with no inflammation. Suddenly, I feel amazing. I love eggs. My abs are glistening in the mirror. Thirty days seems too short.

3:43 p.m.

God, so much pressure now that I’m the co-founder of the Whole30. I have to stay true to my writing. True to my audience. Disgruntled, angry, hungry people.

3:46 p.m.

2,000 hits since her post 36 minutes ago. THIS IS TIGER BLOOD! She seems to be a very good writer. I enjoyed the quick blurb she put together on FB. She asked what she could do to help. I’m just waiting for her address so I can send her my itemized grocery receipts. I will say this though, and I’m not kissing ass, I tip my hat to her for sharing my blog. It’s not exactly nominating the Whole30 for any awards. There’s something honest there.

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Now, back to pictures of Woody.

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4:27 p.m.

3,866 hits. This is what the top 1% feels like. I understand now. Honestly, I never liked Obamacare.

4:56 p.m.

We skipped 4k and went straight to 5,000. Now we start the Kickstarter to pay for these groceries. The audience is in place. I drop a link to my mixtape and we never look back.

I just found out this is a $35 loaf of bread, when you consider the ingredients plus the hand mixer that Alexis slipped into the shopping cart.

5:15 p.m.

Of course I am reading all of the comments. Not so I can gloat in it so much but really because I am waiting for the one person that is going to say it’s not that funny or I’m an asshole so I can say something super personal back to them. Anyway, this is some mastermind shit. She shared it as a metaphor for sugar and snack foods. Because the rush is incredible and I’m on top of the world but by tomorrow it’ll fade and I’ll be left feeling cold and empty inside. Touché.

5:23 p.m.

The day mostly consists of me sitting in front of my laptop and super monitor writing things and editing photos. I have other work I am doing as well. So there are five or six programs running simultaneously and at least as many web tabs. I like to work in circles instead of lines. Meaning I pop around a lot and kind of sweep everything on the edges into the middle until eventually it’s all so close to done that I just put it in the dustpan and call it finished. If I don’t work like this I will be too bored to finish anything. Today has been particularly distracting because I’m refreshing the site stats and the FB page every twenty or thirty minutes. Those kind of odds motivate me more though. It would be expected for me not to finish my work on a day like today. And as such, I guarantee you I will.

5:32 p.m.

I’m confirming a lot of random friend requests. I hope none of them actually work for the IRS.

6:01 p.m.

A lot of people think the trick to getting your jeans to feel loose is to go on a diet like the one I’m on. But what I’ve discovered is that you should eat whatever you want but just stop washing your jeans. Like, ever. They get very lose and it’s the same feeling as getting skinny.

6:34 p.m.

About washing your jeans…

You should never wash your jeans unless you happen to be holding a small child who has consumed green peppers for the first time in his life from an undisclosed Mexican restaurant.

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Is that dinner? I thought it too.

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Dude, I don’t even know what happened. We were partying and everyone was cool and next thing I know the room was spinning and I woke up here. Where’s Emily?

7:13 p.m.

Melissa is sending Alexis and I the Whole30 book and the cookbook. I call her Melissa now. It’s cool.

When I am very excited and alone I make this sound that is kind of like a grunt mixed with a difficult shit. My face lights up with a smile that also could be a stroke. I just did that in the car for a few seconds. Until I felt weird because I remembered other people exist and could potentially be witnessing this very personal moment.

7:45 p.m.

You should see me right now – waving at people as I cross the street, holding doors open for old ladies, doing a quick shift at the local soup kitchen. And I came home to dinner being ready, just like the 50s.

Alexis made baked curry chicken breasts with coconut cauliflower rice and roasted asparagus. We’ve been eating the Costco frozen chicken leather breasts and finally switched to the fresh stuff. Will never go back. Regardless of the impact. I mean we have credit cards. I bought a TV in college for $1700 on a Best Buy credit card once. It was ahead of it’s time. 37 inches with backlit color displays. It was a 24 month, no interest card and I thought, Who the hell couldn’t pay this thing off in 24 months? Turns out, me.

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A Winning Dinner: Short Form Documentary on Cooking by Alexis Asquith.

8:36 p.m.

Alexis is screaming.

“Oh my god! It’s a slug!!!”

“Wait, is it a slug???!”

“Don’t kill it!” I yell.

“Well, come get it out of here!”

Deals that were made before gender roles were so passé.

So I go to the kitchen and grab a napkin and think of all the ways to dispose of this little guy, never admitting that I am secretly 10% scared of all things that crawl on the body under one inch. And before much more thought, I toss him over the balcony. My reasoning being – he doesn’t have a spine, a two story drop will not even phase him.

9:13 p.m.

I was reinvigorated today. When all of this happened I couldn’t stop smiling. A smile I haven’t yielded in weeks. And it says something about this diet – I can’t really blame the food for not smiling. I wasn’t thinking about tortilla chips when I was watching the site traffic skyrocket. I was just feeling alive. If there is a cure for everything then it’s definitely joy. What can I do to bring more joy into my days? Probs just get more reshares from famous people.

I booked a hotel on Venice beach. We’ll head up this weekend. Alexis and I living free. We’ll leave Woody at home. Don’t worry we’ll fill up a couple bowls of food and leave toilet paper laying around in different spots. Or, he will stay with Ashley and Chris. Either/or. Vanessa is already dusting off her Whole30 recipe book to accommodate us. Thankfully it’s LA. There’s probably a Whole30 restaurant in Santa Monica.

11,000 and counting.

 

Read Day 10 HERE.

Whole30 Day 10 : Woody Pees On Everything

8:17 a.m.

Double digits, bitches, I mean, ya’ll. Too aggressive. Sorry.

1/3 through. It’s all about the fractions now. Did you make the paper rings out of construction paper to count down to Christmas when you were little? I loved those.

Okay, so I watched two episodes last night, not one. I don’t understand how a person is to turn that show off. I mean you end on an episode where Hank gets shot to shit by the cartel and you’re just supposed to say, “I think this is a good place to stop for the night.” God no. I had to slam the laptop shut and walk away. But then I did my stretching. Which is mostly just Woody laying on me in different positions. But I don’t feel insane this morning. At least not yet. Could also have something to do with the fact that there was a little late night action in our household last night. And I don’t mean Woody brought home a chihuahua.

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8:24 a.m.

Breakfast is here and it’s hard to describe exactly.

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The intentions were hash of some sort. We haven’t quite figured out that new skillet yet.

8:34 a.m.

I would like to make a statement here regarding the face some women (and men, but mostly women in this particular case) make when taking selfies. I feel this is a good time to get something out into the open. You know that we can, in fact, completely tell that you are sucking your cheeks in and puffing out your lips, right? I mean, like, there’s no confusion on your end that the viewer of the photo might actually think it’s a natural face, correct? Okay, so we’re squared away on that. Which leads me to this – if you’re doing it because you think it makes you look better in photos, do you think it makes you look better enough to overcompensate for the fact that we all know you are making a duck face? Something to think about.

8:42 a.m.

What I love so much about writing this log every day is the comments I receive on Facebook. In any given article, which usually average around 2,000 words, I can talk about twenty or thirty different things. And there’s always one thing that resonates with a reader over all the others. And it’s never the same from one person to the next.

8:45 a.m.

Okay, I can’t finish this breakfast. I don’t like avocado anymore. Furthermore, I might not have ever liked avocado on its own. To me, it’s an accessory to toast. Without the crunchy bread I just don’t see the appeal. Not to mention if it’s a day overripe and there are dark stringy hairs running through the center of the… oh god, I’m going to throw up.

It’s all about textures for me. Once a food has been in my mouth for too many bites my mind will turn on it and I will spend the next thirty seconds with forehead sweat trying not to throw up as I chew the food feverishly and try to think about rats, worms, tendons, snakes, squid, or eel.

My lats are sore from the pull-ups yesterday but not as sore as I thought they’d be. But the real soreness doesn’t come until the second day! I know.

The preference to try to fix other people rather than focusing on our own problems must be as old as time.

8:52 a.m.

The happy thing that Alexis made us last night was a cashew milk smoothie. It was delicious. And I’m having the leftovers now (sorry Alexis) because I feel nauseous but know I need nutrients.

Woody is at puppy class right now. I like to think of it as kindergarten for him. I want to buy him a dog backpack and walk him down there. But I don’t go. Only Alexis does. I don’t want the lady’s training techniques to dilute my deep understanding of dogs. And it’s basically treat bribery. Dog sits, give em a treat. Dog walks, give em a treat. Dog breaths, give em a treat. Dog shits on your couch, give em a treat.

Quite often Alexis and I will argue about how to walk him on the leash. She carries around a trash bag worth of biscuits and I just bring my natural dominance. Apparently we are sending him mixed signals. I like to look at it as providing him with options. He can take in all the info and make a decision for himself what kind of dog he wants to be when he grows up.

*Note. I walk by every time he is training and watch him through the fence. He’s the kid that everyone loves in school because he just wants to be your friend. All the other dogs are boring as shit and it’s because their owners are there to show how good they are at dog training. Bunch of uptight wankers. Not Woody and Alexis. He’s running around jumping off the benches onto dog’s heads and Alexis is giggling to herself trying to pretend like he should be doing it any differently.

9:02 a.m.

I have to run to La Jolla today to Genomatica. I’m partners with these really nerdy science guys on this project that extracts cortisol information from hair samples. We built a meditation app last year to promote mindfulness and help reduce stress. The hair samples provide real scientific data on the effect meditation has on your stress. Not some bullshit Apple app where you put your thumb in your ass for twelve seconds and it tells you your heart rate. We are talking true stress levels. Measured. Anyway, they are all smart and I just write content for them and advise them that no one can understand a word they say. I’m going to the lab today to see the extraction process for the first time. We all submitted hair samples last week. I sent pubes because I thought it would be funny but now I’m feeling like it was a bad call, seeing as we’re all going to be face to face.

Apparently we have just partnered with the largest chain of fitness gyms in the world. You will know this is true if you see 22″ rims on our scooter next month.

12:29 p.m.

Back from the science meeting and from some important science work of my own.

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Lars was explaining what he does, something about splicing single microbes and being able to modify their genetic makeup.

“Explain how that effects someone like me,” I asked.

“Well, for example, let’s say you love bread but you’re allergic to gluten. If I could modify your DNA to make your metabolism process gluten regularly would you be interested in that?”

My head exploded.

Then I deeply pondered what else I could discover through science.

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Which wasn’t much.

1:01 p.m.

It seems Alexis is making lunch but has left half way through as Woody seems to have a bladder problem. He peed in the house again and she found him hiding behind the toilet shaking.

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You might look at this and think a couple things. 1) Alexis gets her tampons from Target. True. 2) This is a really sad photo and Woody needs a hug. No. He needs to learn how to clean piss off the ground. Otherwise we end up with a generation of dogs that goes job to job without any understanding of responsibilities and commitment.

Mijon sent me a recipe for Paleo, grain free bread. Well, first she asked if I wanted it. YES. Now Alexis and I are concerned that we are cheating the Whole30 by substituting ingredients to otherwise eat the same way. I disagree on this sunny afternoon as I stand here shaking because I haven’t the slightest appetite for anything. The texture of most whole foods is terrible. Vomit-inducing. So fine, I’ll just eat nothing and lay in bed all day because I don’t have the energy to put on pants. Or, we can make some “bread” so I can get back to enjoying eggs, avocado, and toast in the morning like a good American.

It comes back to motives. What is the point of this diet? To change my relationship with food? Check. I hate food. To reduce inflammation in my body and feel healthier? Yes. Then how is making bread out of perfectly healthy ingredients a deterrent from that goal? It’s not. But they place these psycho things in your head and now I’m on the verge of feeling like I’m cheating the whole diet because I’m putting some eggs and baking soda together and pretending it’s bread so the thought of breakfast doesn’t make me nauseous anymore.

It seems our home is not an electric place. I had imagined all this cooking to kind of light up our lives and make us feel more connected. The reality is, it’s an economy of words over here and we are desperately missing the way things were.

1:27 p.m.

Every dish in the fucking world. I’ll wash plates all day. They are simple. But we’re talking tiny little measuring spoons, mason jar lids with dried sauce in the crevices, tupperware, etc. It’s a nightmare. A tiny stack takes twenty minutes. Good thing we have bacon for lunch in the Cobb salad.

“I accidentally got turkey bacon,” She whispers.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“Of course not. The package looked the same.”

Now Alexis is hiding behind the toilet shaking.

It’s okay though, even turkey bacon will be a godsend at this point.

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I believe this is butternut squash soup.

I confessed to Alexis that I’m thinking about quitting. I promised her I would make it to day 15 no matter what but if I didn’t start noticing something positive by then I was pulling the plug on my end. We can’t fucking afford this diet. It’s bullshit. You have to be wealthy to eat this way all the time. Absolutely no consideration for people without tons of disposable income and enough time on their hands to live in the kitchen. Alexis was in the kitchen the whole time I was at my meeting and all she has to show for it is some ranch dressing that will expire by the time we sit down for lunch. Now she’s passed out.

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2:49 p.m.

Oh look, the sink is filled with dishes again.

I ask when you judge to not judge based on who you think you are and what you think you do but rather who you actually are and what you actually do. Makes life a lot more honest.

4:53 p.m.

Carly came by to deliver us an emergency care package. She is a Whole30 veteran and could tell we were struggling. La Croix, Larabars, Epic jerky, pistachios, and the permission to go out to dinner at least once a week. So, we are going to Chipotle to enjoy someone else’s fine cooking.

5:35 p.m.

We didn’t actually go to Chipotle. This is 2017 after all. The thought of driving was just too much for me. We had it delivered. Which is a huge risk when you want salsa on the side.

It was luke warm when it got here but it tasted pretty good.

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6:30 p.m.

Alexis claims bloating after eating Chipotle. I am unusually sleepy.

6:55 p.m.

I was advised by a good friend that I should only watch two episodes of Breaking Bad per night. Once it got any higher than that it could contribute to a bad mood the next day. Only I interpreted that as two episodes per sitting. I can just break them up. With hour breaks in between. Two episodes, one hour break. Two episodes, one hour break. It keeps the brain chemistry in line. Walter White just ran over two gang bangers with his car and shot one in the head. And then the episode ends. Who is to blame here?

7:09 p.m.

There are more dishes in the sink! We didn’t even fucking make dinner. I am a volatile, unstable, emotional person that cannot be messed with at the moment.

8:06 p.m.

I’m probably going to convert to a full soup and smoothie diet in the next few days. I can’t stand the sound of any food. Everything looks and tastes like a big pile of used butt wipes. Without serious crunch I have nothing on the plate that makes me interested in the slightest. I’ve gotten some suggestions for how to spice up the meals, most of them having to do with sweet potatoes. I’m over the sweet potato thing. I need someone to invent a new food. Apparently I’m a picky eater, at least that’s what Alexis says. I think she is unraveling a little big. She looked defeated today. Was getting frustrated with the food she was cooking and how it was tasting. Then we scramble to figure out what is wrong, like we are doing something wrong. And the truth is, we’re just stuck. We’ve been doing the same thing for ten straight days and we’re over it. Only we can’t just say that and fix it. We have to first get down on ourselves for not being perfect. I hate when she gets down on herself. I’d be dead in a river somewhere without her on this diet. I can see her source of pain though – who would want to make three meals a day for someone that is acting like it’s hospital food? Time to buy her a new spatula or something.

8:11 p.m.

Woody just farted. I often think that I smell terribly but all it takes is one dog fart to put things back into perspective.

Alexis is at the grocery store now re-upping for next week. It’ll be a pretty decent sized bill. Which infuriates me. Not because she is spending money but because this diet is completely fucking offensive financially. We’re the greatest country in the world yet to eat healthy you have to be rich.

8:22 p.m.

“$151!” She texted me excitedly.

Silence.

“I feel like anything under $200 is a victory,” she continued.

“You are alone in this thinking,” I said.

8:39 p.m.

Still, this rotisserie is fucking good. And we got cashew butter. Oh, the excitement. Silver lining … silver lining … silver lining. Nope. I got nothin’. I guess if there was something today it would be that the thought of peanut butter actually makes me sick. I can taste the sugar that it’s made of. I’ll call my palette more honest now. Meaning I can get by with less. Meaning cashew butter tastes like the duck butter of a donkey compared to peanut butter but compared to absolutely nothing it is delicious. I didn’t have a car for a number of years. Just a scooter and a bicycle. It wasn’t about money, it was about choice. I hate cars and everything that they have brought our culture. But when you have one they are the greatest and you drive it everywhere. Sometimes, I would get tired of my scooter and start thinking it was time to get a car. That it would make life easier. But instead of getting a car I would exclusively ride my bicycle for a week straight. Do everything on it – groceries, work, bank, concerts – you name it. And after a week of the bike the scooter was the greatest gift to my commute I could imagine. Deprivation is a form of renewal.

8:47 p.m.

Alexis has our weekly meal calendar on the fridge like one used to have in grade school. Only I can’t find the Mexican pizza on Fridays. She did the grocery shopping based off the list and swears up and down that this food will last us ALL WEEK. She is really dedicated to taking care of us. There are so many different roles to be played in a household. Men used to jazz it up like going off to work and making money was the main show. And that it was difficult enough to warrant no other responsibilities in the house. But it’s fucking cake compared to making four walls feel like a home. What a great hoax we were running for so many years. Anyway, that means our cost will be 1/3 of the first week. If $151 is all in for the week then we will actually save money on food considering we won’t be eating out. This is a message I can get behind.

I have a boxing lesson in the morning. I am hoping the punches bring some lightness. I feel like I’m moving through sludge. Somewhere out there are people frolicking through shallow river beds enjoying cheeseburgers and hot fudge sundaes.

2900 words though. Stephen King says to write 2,000 words a day. To close the door and write and not worry what the world has to say. I guess it’s a gift to be able to compose so many words each day and not feel like you’ve run out of things to say. I have all these dreams of things I’ll do once our company IPOs and we have Lil’ Wayne money. Most of them are short films I want to make. Mostly comedies. Mostly making fun of life. Funny thing is – I could probably do all of them now. We say that we want things, or that things would be different if… but I’m guessing things would only be different if we were different. Perhaps it’s a reasonable goal to make one of these films this year. Perhaps I’m already free and just afraid of what that really means.

9:29 p.m.

We (Alexis) are making a form of bread out of almonds and baking soda and a little salt. It will probably taste like saw dust but if it helps me get the eggs down in the morning then I’ll buy 2,000 shares.

Buenas nachos my friends.

 

Read Day 9 HERE.

Whole30 Day 9 : Today Was Not My Day

5: 33 p.m.

Thinking about doing this all in one swoop tonight. I made a commitment not to be on my computer all day today because it’s Saturday and I’m trying to engage in the good graces of the collective weekend vibe.

Let’s start with this morning.

I woke up with my neck thrown out. I slept on my side after watching seven episodes of Breaking Bad. Stark contrast to the night before. I was doing yoga, drinking tea, listening to Snatam Kaur. Which is probably why I woke up yesterday feeling light and peaceful.

I had the rage this morning. Is my mind so fragile that a slight change in behavior can ruin the entire next day?

I didn’t want to be one of those people who starts angry and stays angry. I opened up Rosetta Stone and did three Spanish lessons to get my brain moving. Then I went to the gym. I jumped rope and shadow-boxed for five rounds before doing a push-up and pull-up superset. I even stretched. But I couldn’t shake the anger. It was there judging the form on my right cross, laughing at my set of pull-ups, and commenting on how sluggish my leg lifts looked in the mirror.

I’m pretty sure I got fatter today. When I woke up this morning I felt soft. I looked soft. The first week I was shedding weight and now I’ve plateaued. My body is starting to adjust to this new diet and routine. Which makes me even angrier. Why am I doing this if it’s not going to be transformational? I don’t give a fuck about five pounds.

“What are we waiting for,” Alexis asked. “Are we going to feel any better?”

I don’t know. I mean, I feel good-ish. But I really like sandwiches. I had a dream last night I was meeting one of my good friends, S Clark, for lunch. She was saying a lot of important things about her new daughter but I couldn’t stop staring at the foccacia bread on her plate. And I can’t fucking stands eggs anymore. Especially this morning. They were dry and tasted like rubber-bands. Woody has a new kong with peanut butter inside and it’s total bullshit.

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Can you tell I’m grumpy today? It’s inside of me. Listening to people talk is making me angry. I wanted to smack the dog when he kept biting my sweatpants wanting to play. I realized that was how my dad must have felt in the moments when we were overwhelming him and he lost his temper. It’s not even like you want to be that way. It just takes you over for a second. And if you don’t explode then it will keep eating at you. I yelled at Woody, “Stop biting me!” I knew as soon as it came out that I must have sounded terrible. It made me hate myself. I called him onto the bed to play, and to see if he remembered.

“Do you want lunch”? Alexis asked.

“I don’t even know what lunch is anymore.”

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Leftover minced chicken from last night’s dumplings with butter lettuce and avocado. Olive oil and lemon dressing. The flavor of the chicken was amazing. But I ate lunch very early, around 11:30 a.m.

I’m just waiting for something fucking amazing to happen. Hello Whole30 gods do you hear me?! There is nothing new here. I’ve done diets, cleanses, protocols, what is the real difference? It’s all just proving to yourself that you can do something different. But it’s not different enough. It’s just another reminder of what I already know. And quite frankly, I’m tired of being reminded. I want to be blown away by something new.

Alexis is cranky too. We need to mix it up. Go out to dinner tonight. This room of ours is becoming a cave. The world is coming to an end. Airports aren’t safe. The flu is bad this year. Vaccines are worse. You can’t even trust your doctor. Everyone is looking out for themselves. Even Mother Teresa was a bitch.

I got to hang out with Baby Boston though. Which is always a dose of softness to the heart.

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Only the little guy was eye-ballin a giant ass sandwich on bread that look like pillows from heaven when I got there. Not a good start for me.

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Still, we hung out and he was quite good at listening to my complaints so long as I kept my knee bouncing. Then Greg threw him in the jumper.

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I remember those days, kid.

Remember yesterday when I said I was defensive of the diet? That was a lie. I don’t trust this diet for shit. I’m not going to gradually re-introduce foods into my diet. I am going to eat everything on day 31 and I’m going to host a public event where I burn the Whole30 book (Carly, we’ll buy you a new copy because it’s the right thing to do).

A positive thing about today – My mom texted me the other day after a post and asked me to send her the rest of Alexis’ wish list. She proceeded to order every remaining item. A lot of them came today. I wasn’t there for the box opening ceremony but I’m guessing Alexis was cheesin’ pretty hard. Sorry, bad word choice.

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5:56 p.m.

We are going to Whole Foods for the buffet.

7:45 p.m.

You’d think it would be a good idea to go to a healthy grocery store for dinner. And yet that didn’t stop everyone else shopping there tonight from choosing pizza as their Saturday evening dinner. Then there was the bread they just pulled out of the oven. And the chocolate cake some girl was carrying that I wanted to smash into her face. And the kicker, the peanut butter cups right there at checkout. These people have no mercy, I thought to myself.

“Is everyone being a fucking asshole tonight or am I just crabby?” She asks me.

“Probably it’s just us but I also hate everyone here. Especially that guy.”

It’s consuming when it gets to this point. What can you do but try not to explode? I barely ate dinner. Nothing sounded good. Kale chips have fucking cane syrup!

If I want to wallow then I will watch another seven episodes tonight and be the victim of insanity. If I want to have a chance then I will burn some gd candles, roll out the mat, and try to say something nice to Alexis.

I am ending the evening on this thought which I cannot get out of my head – is there really freedom in having choices?

8:32 p.m.

Alexis says, “I’m going to make us something that feels happy.”

Bless the little one.

 

Read Day 8 HERE.

Whole30 Day 8 : Apparently There’s Not A Space Between Whole And 30

8:31 a.m.

Woke up this morning to a nice, threatening email from Alexis’ mom. Just so you can get a better understanding of the mental makeup of this particular individual I’ve included the full transcript.

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Seems like she might be on the Whole30 as well.

Now, you might be thinking, “Okay, you’re taking this a bit far by sharing,” and I hear you, I really do. If only we weren’t talking about the same woman that sent out emails telling our friends and family that our wedding had been cancelled. So really, I’m being reserved here.

9:22 a.m.

We decided to do yoga last night. Which was big because we were already in bed and close to the finale. I have to say, I’ve never felt lighter while practicing. What does that mean exactly? Well, the first thing I noticed was how fluid my shoulders felt. My range of motion was effortless and there was no crackling in the joints while rotating through postures. I had very little tension in my body. When I was meditating it seemed like my head was on top of a thirty foot pole. It was as if I was twenty pounds lighter and ten years younger. That folks, is a BENEFIT! I kept thinking of all the money I’ve spent on specialists to work through certain physical ailments – my neck, my back, my p*##y and my crack. Okay for real – torn hamstring, two slipped discs, chronic neck pain – these are injuries I’ve spent THOUSANDS of dollars trying to repair. And I’ve never even gotten close. I’m not sure if it’s the sugar or the grains or both but the reduction of inflammation in my body is having a profound effect on my daily physical pain. My knees did not ache once yesterday and it rained all day.

We also slept fairly well last night. Which would be my first night on the challenge doing so. I’m guessing it had more to do with the stretching and the meditating before getting in bed. I’ve been spending a lot of time on my computer during this challenge. It seems like we don’t leave this little room in our house. I’m thinking I need to regulate that a little more. Take notes in my journal throughout the day and then come back and document on the blog all at once. Which brings me to my next point – I think I need to start doing a little cooking, for a number of reasons. One – it’s fair. Two – if I don’t mix up my participation in this experience I won’t fully understand it. Because I’m not reading the book or looking at the recipes I don’t feel like an insider as much as I feel like an associate. I think it will help me connect more to the experience. I’ll start with my eggs this morning and possibly jump into some asparagus this afternoon. She is making Dim Sum tonight and I know she won’t let me touch that.

9:29 a.m.

Alexis says I’m lighter today. I feel more calm and alive to her.

9:34 a.m.

Alexis just made cashew milk for the first time. Our friend Mijon sent us the recipe. She is a ninja in regards to recipes and discounts on groceries.

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9:45 a.m.

I was deeply fighting the thought of eggs again this morning. But then I was inspired by an El Camino that drove by and thought to make a Sante Fe inspired turkey omelette. Couple things to note – 1) I was inspired to make. Meaning I made it. 2) I have no idea what an El Camino has to do with Santa Fe. 3) I’m not sure that turkey and eggs makes a Santa Fe omelette.

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Here I am in the kitchen using all of the utensils at once because of my diverse skill set in the culinary arts.

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10:09 a.m.

Alexis’ mom forwarded my reply email to their entire family and said, “My daughter married an ass.” For some reason, I wasn’t copied on that email. I don’t know which is harder for her – the fact that she probably knows she is a very difficult person to like or that her daughter has already exceeded her in so many ways. I’m trying to remember compassion but my instincts want to crush bullies when they come around.

10:16 a.m.

Compassion did not prevail.

10:35 a.m.

Woody keeps looking out the window, presumably for a new family that eats bread.

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11:59 a.m.

We just wrapped a quick photoshoot with an entertaining woman.

“Can you make me look good?” She asked.

“You look great!” Alexis said.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of plastic surgery.”

We both giggle.

“I just don’t want other women in their 60s feeling bad, like God gave me these looks or anything.” I capitalized god there because she said it like she really meant it and I didn’t want to misquote her.

12:45 p.m.

Took little Wooderson to the park because he has been on the verge of psychosis. It was like watching a teenager discover masturbation and late night Cinemax at the same time. He partied with everyone. Almost a little out of control. Like your friend that wants to take another shot at 2:30 a.m. even though he has had a urine stain on his trousers for the last hour. But I was happy to see him work out some of that sorrow that’s been holding him down. There was this one asshole that brought a camping chair to the park. Which is great. Make a day of it. Bring a book. I’m totally with you. But he kept pushing all the dogs away because they were trying to get under his chair. And I’m like Bro, you brought a fucking chair. This is what happens. Don’t try to make it seem like Woody is a bad dog. I will cut you. Fortunately for him, I used up most of my best arguments this morning in an email thread.

On the way home, Woodrow Wilson found a stick that he had to have. He carried it proudly for six blocks, a nice little pep in his step. And then he destroyed it across all rooms of the apartment. And I’m trying to work with it. Make it part of the aesthetic. Mid Century Bark.

1:08 p.m.

A friend messaged me last night and said she heard Dallas and Melissa, the founders of Whole30, did in fact split up. That was the first thing I thought about when I saw the newest Whole30 book coming out with only her name on it. The very first thing. Which makes me a cynical bastard but also makes me highly perceptive to subtle details, aka, a detective. Which brings me to my next point – after Alexis, Woody, and I spend a year with the Mayans in the mountains learning sacred healing techniques I am going to become a Private Investigator for three years. I took a test once, in middle school, and it said I would be most happy and most successful as a detective. I do not want to let Ms. Counts down.

2:11 p.m.

Lunch is a wrap. I was on my own. No one to call. No one to write. Alexis was down the street having a pow wow with Sonya at Gold Leaf, one of our favorite stores. I opened the Whole30 book for the first time, had a look at some of the dishes, decided they were too much work, and turned the oven to 350 degrees. Thawed the salmon in hot water. Pan-fried some carrots and cauliflower rice. Covered the butter lettuce with olive oil, salt, and squeezed lemons. Took a selfie. And that was that. I know you’re surprised that the old Neanderthal was able to find his way around in the kitchen but I’ll remind you that I was cracking eggs with one hand when I was eight, before Malto Mario made it cool.

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2:32 p.m.

My B.O. is back in dramatic fashion.

3:46 p.m.

There was great excitement in our household about the cashew milk. And then she went to pour it into the Vitamix to make one single smoothie and the whole batch was gone. What are we, the fucking Amish? Have to pump the cows every time we want milk? This is America people, act like it.

3:49 p.m.

Where is our dog?

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Sun’s out, Wood’s out.

3:53 p.m.

“This smoothie tastes like Halle Berry’s breast milk.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

4:30 p.m.

Trying to get a deal on an Airbnb so we can go to LA next weekend and visit Vanessa and her fam. I try to get people to waive the cleaning fees because they ludicrous. Bob says, “I can take $20 off the total. Does that help?” No Bob, it doesn’t. Talk to me when you’re ready to make a deal.

5:42 p.m.

We know how to have fun here. Season finale going on the computer monitor while we prepare Dim Sum (said like a rapper with your hand over your mouth) for dinner. Woody is pounding his food as a protest to our dieting. He has been very vocal about this process.

I have to say, I’ve felt generally good today. Not terribly hungry. Not terribly cranky. I think I am losing weight. My face looks skinny. Time to dust off the old headshots and get back on the horn with Wilhelmina. I’m looking to make a run in my 30s. Do a few Ralph catalogues and then become a principal dancer at a ballet school in NYC while getting my MBA from Columbia.

The first few days were met with tiny little white zits all over my chest and shoulders and those seem to have subsided, which is a bummer for Alexis because the girl likes to pop a zit. Deep breaths are coming a lot easier. It used to be that the top of my inhale was met with a little pressure in my diaphragm, which I think was anxiety, but that has settled some.

Alexis is molesting the rotisserie trying to scrape every last ounce of food off it. Makes eating meat difficult at times. I don’t think I could ever kill an animal with my own hands. But you’re killing them anyway by eating them!!! Quiet, vegans. I know who you are.

6:03 p.m.

Woody is running back and forth with his bully stick and I can only imagine he’s saying, “Look at me!” whenever he passes. Alexis has Goop up on the iPad and I’m thinking we livin’ pretty large.

8:23 p.m.

That goes down as the greatest dinner since the Industrial Revolution. Chicken dumplings in boiled cabbage leaves with pineapple fried cauliflower rice. Tip top. She made a sauce out of coconut aminos and sesame oil with garlic powder and chili flakes. Not even enough sodium to scratch soy sauce’s back. But one tablespoon and my lips clenched up like my anus around Tom Cruise. The taste buds are a changin’.

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As a cultural experience it’s important to note that Dim Sum is not a food in particular but rather a Chinese tradition of preparing food in small, bite-sized portions.

8:29 p.m.

The cravings for everything immediately following a meal are intense. I want to stuff myself until food is coming out my belly button. I’m sure I should take that one to my therapist next week. Maybe I’m a reptilian.

Is it so bad to want to go out and have ice cream and a piece of cake and some nachos and just a half a cheeseburger with fries and a side of ranch dressing for dipping and just before I must go to sleep one or maybe three last peanut butter cups?

Would that be unreasonable?

8:32 p.m.

This just in – some twat biscuit writer at the Independent wrote an article saying that Whole30 is the ABSOLUTE WORST fad diet on the market. Why this is important – normally this would be a good excuse to quit something, only when I found this news I became immediately distrustful of the “dieticians” and “doctors” that sat on the panel. I’ve believed for a long time that the individual knows more about his or her own body than the most trained doctor in the world ever could. The article said people are quitting because it’s too “restrictive.” Cry me a fucking river. I will wrestle any one on that panel in a no-holds-barred cage match. Back to the importance of this – I’m defensive of this diet. Today marks the first day that I think there might be something good here. If nothing else, I’m proving to myself that I can live without junk food.

Blah blah blah, day 31 I’m fuckin’ eating everything.

 

Read Day 7 HERE.

Whole 30 Day 7 : Who Wouldn’t Wanna Do This? Me.

8:32 a.m.

Did anyone ever think maybe this was a bad idea? I mean consider this – the first two books on the Whole 30 diet were written by Melissa and Dallas Hartwig. The most recent book, only Melissa’s name appears on the cover. Dallas probably lost his shit and their whole relationship ended over a quesadilla.

What is the point of this whole thing? I’m going to feel good AF for fifteen or so odd days and then I’m going to piledrive a BRC (bean, rice, and cheese. know this) down my trachea. One simple indulgence is going to make me hate myself. I knew you weren’t strong enough to continue making decisions that made you feel better, the voice in my head will say. And every time I make a decision about what to eat I will be plagued with the knowledge that this food is bad for me but I’m eating it anyway because it feels good in the moment. Or, I carry this diet on forever. And I become a superhuman. But everyone hates me. I’ll have too much energy to deal with and without an obvious vice, I’ll be untrustworthy.

I don’t see how there’s anyway this diet will not ruin my life completely. Why is nobody talking about that?

8:45 a.m.

I’m not even looking through the window at the food people are eating inside the cozy gourmet Italian restaurant across the street. I’m past that. I’m now to the point where I am becoming jealous of people’s garnishes in their cocktails.

9:04 a.m.

I have work pretty much nonstop today until 3 p.m. A meeting then a photoshoot then another meeting. It might be the day of the Larabar. We haven’t been eating any of their “approved” emergency snacks. It makes me feel like a cheater and a failure.

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Another morning date with eggs, avocado, and sweet potatoes. Sweet potatoes are already not my friend. I discovered them years ago, prematurely.

We were so hungry last night before bed. We wanted to watch the season finale of Breaking Bad season two but I knew that if we stayed awake for another hour I was going to bite her in the shoulder. Still, I laid in bed for an hour anyway trying to imagine that we had been kidnapped and soon a nice warm meal would come as soon as Liam Neeson got there.

We ended up having a “snack” that looked like the remains of the food tray after a corporate fundraiser.

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10:44 a.m.

First meeting in the books. I might join another small business association. There a part of me (3%) that thinks one day I’ll be the mayor of San Diego. Mostly because politicians are such lazy excuse makers and I want to know if it’s them personally or if the job is actually impossible to do well. Anyway, I’d have a pretty straight-shooter campaign and a message of tough love and government accountability. I don’t know what my scandal will be yet but I will have it leaked early in the campaign to get some free press.

11:11 a.m.

Alexis made her first sale on her new online vintage clothing shop SAME SAME VINTAGE. That is exciting. We tried to celebrate but then we realized we were too grumpy to feel anything inside.

11:30 a.m.

Life has definitely changed for me already. For one, I am constantly taking out the trash. And I never stop washing dishes. And I’ve actually begun returning things to the grocery store. Didn’t even know that was a thing before this.

Some positives – we are constantly looking for things to distract us. Alexis cleaned her entire closet last night. I have become fluent in Lebanese.

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12:49 p.m.

Woody took off across the street when Alexis and I were carrying out a hand full of boxes. Ten minutes later she just called me crying, thinking about what could have happened to the sweet little guy.

Lunch – red leaf lettuce with leftover roasted veggies from last night and some turkey. Olive oil and salt. It was good because the hot veggies made the turkey warm and it reminded me of being a kid and eating grilled turkey and cheese sandwiches. Excuse me, I need a moment.

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1:15 p.m.

My sister texted me and said that she did her Whole 30 grocery shopping today. She said she’s out looking for a part-time job now.

You certainly can’t please everybody. But it is a little embarrassing that in order to eat HEALTHY food you have to have considerable financial means. We aren’t even buying full organic. At this point I can’t justify it. And I’m not 100% confident that food labeled “organic” doesn’t contain trace amounts of all the harmful chemicals that the rest of the food has. Not to mention I feel a lot better when I switch from eating out to cooking at home than I do when I switch from cooking conventional at home to cooking organic at home.

1:30 p.m.

Ashley came by with Caira. Normally we see them on Tuesdays and Thursdays for our mental health because Caira is such a cute peanut. But today I texted Ashley back and said we’re not doing so good in our household today and that maybe we would see her next week. She sent a video of 18 month old Caira saying, “Lex. Turk. Wood,” over and over so I caved.

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He mostly followed her around and kissed her face and she mostly ran away from him screaming. But the second he stopped… “Wood?” She also came with cheese. Cheese. You remember that stuff right? The stuff you eat when you want to be transported to heaven. I helped her feed some to Woody. In my head I was reciting the Hail Mary.

3:26 p.m.

Some slick bastard stole my business credit card number and tried to buy $607 worth of perfumes and luxury skin care products from Osswald’s in Manhattan. Credit card fraud is like no big deal nowadays. I’m not even mad. I’m not going to tell everyone at work tomorrow how my card got stolen and the world is going to shit because of these computers. I’m just upset I have to update payment information on about 16 different accounts. That is the real pain of modern day credit card fraud.

3:29 p.m.

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It may look like I am making sweet love to my thumb but it’s actually a rotisserie chicken. I feel the same way about this rotisserie as you did about Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You.

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Today we decided that we need a small meal between lunch and dinner. That it wasn’t good for our relationship to go five hours without eating. We had rotisserie and the rest of the cinnamon sweet potato soup from last night. It was a godsend.

4:14 p.m.

The first Amazon shipment has arrive – whisks and a small bin to scoop all of our food scraps into.

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5:16 p.m.

We got final approval for the TV commercial we produced a couple months ago. The client signed off and it will head to cable soon. Not to mention the remaining $$$ gets released. Which normally would mean great things. Not this month. I will go down as the only person to produce a commercial for cable and get evicted in the same month.

It’s actually a really great commercial. Except for the fact that it’s about food. I cut out all the pita bread. If I can’t enjoy it neither can America.

5:37 p.m.

It’s 5:37 and I don’t hear anything happening behind me. I am becoming concerned. She’s just sitting there on her computer around the corner. Do I say something?

“Hello…”

Although I will admit, the midday meal has held me over considerably.

Tonight I am going to total up this week’s expenditures and see what that leaves us with moving forward.

Perhaps I can tell the bank these purchases were fraud as well.

5:50 p.m.

I don’t miss any one food in particular. I more miss textures. One thing that is absent from the Whole 30 is a good old-fashioned crunch.

5:54 p.m.

After some light Googling it appears that I can thinly slice a sweet potato and bake the pieces in the oven for two hours at 250 degrees and have a crunchy little number.

6:02 p.m.

Alexis asked how the writing was going today. I told her badly.

“Why?”

“It’s boring now. Everyone gets it. We’re hungry. It’s expensive. The end.”

“People want to hear about how the health stuff is going.”

Is that true people? Are you curious about The Daily Gas Log? Last night was as bad as ever. I don’t get it. It smelled like burnt plastic toys anywhere within six feet of me. At one point I had one last so long it sounded like the old door at your grandma’s house that never quite stops opening.

Now I need to take Woody for a walk. I think he’s depressed. Ever since he partied his brains out with my mom’s dog for three weeks he hasn’t been the same. He doesn’t want to play with any other dogs at the park. All day he sits at our feet and yips. Is this what it feels like when your teenaged son grows his hair past his eyes and starts listening to Fall Out Boy? Maybe we need to play a Fall Out Boy song for him.

7:01 p.m.

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I call this one Pandora’s Taco. Alexis made some guac out of an avocado that was on its way out, probably to a home that would put it back in contact with a blue corn friend. Along with some pepper sauce and chicken this made for a delicious, albeit brief, dinner. Those are mushrooms on the side. And while tasty, they were just another insult to my appetite.

Alexis says the book recommended only serving half the portion she just gave me for dinner. What’s weird is that I will stab the book.

Immediately after dinner is always panic. I look frantically through the fridge looking for Whole 30 approved vanilla cupcakes with white frosting. All I find that’s even close is a pineapple. So I eat that. Then it’s the cupboard. Did I make the sweet potato chips? I know I didn’t. But I’m still looking for them.

7:32 p.m.

It passes. I have to remember, it passes. The food digests and my stomach feels momentarily content. These snack cravings have absolutely nothing to do with hunger. I feel out of control, like I don’t know my own mind. Certainly can’t trust it to act in my own best interest. Then again, how can I blame preservatives? We (Alexis) made ranch dressing the other day and it has already gone bad. Making homemade ranch dressing every two days isn’t sustainable.

7:53 p.m.

I am ungodly hungry.

“I don’t know how people do this,” Alexis said. “I don’t know what else to make.”

Wake me up when the answer is pizza.

7:57 p.m.

“Is this worth it?” She asks. We have hit a low point.

“I don’t fucking know.”

A Week In Finances:

12/30. Whole Foods : $219

1/2. Costco : $116

1/2. Sprouts : $76

1/4. Trader Joe’s : $45

1/5. Sprouts : $24

Ready for this ?

$480

(Fireworks explode in the background and you seen Queen Elizabeth holding up a middle finger).

A monthly payment on a Tesla.

A Week In Emotions:

I had some bouts of extreme energy bursts and mental clarity but it has been overshadowed by constant hunger, nausea, and a real doubt in the human ability to stay interested in things.

A Week In Relationships:

Alexis claims that I have been relatively nice to her despite the burning rage I feel inside. I am trying to be incredibly grateful because she has cooked 21 meals for us in the last seven days and I would have been at McDonald’s on night two without her. It’s hard to say there’s a ton of excitement in our house. Even our dog is depressed. By the time we get in bed we are both too weak to even think about putting on a Keith Sweat record.

A Week In Health:

I have definitely noticed a dent in the high-tech insulation my lower abdominal possesses. My workout was strong and I felt very little muscle soreness the next day. I have absolutely no desire to exercise on my own. Not even yoga at the end of the night. I am hoping to have much more productivity in this department next week. Alexis says the chronic pain in her right hip has gone away completely. That’s something. I guess if I think about it, I have had less joint pain than usual as well.

A Week In Blogging:

Just under 700 people are reading these articles every day. Some, I’m sure, are participating in the Whole 30 and some, I know, are just here to offer their emotional support to a couple in need. Until I get a share or retweet from a big site I imagine the stats will hover in this area in perpetuity. The most popular article I’ve ever written on my site was about beating the Whole Foods salad bar and it received 85,000 reads. I have written for other publications that are much larger and I thought about pitching this current project to a bigger site like Greatist or Vice but in the end I decided to keep it at home. Something about that feels right.

Week one is in the books. Thanks for coming along.

 

Read Day 6 HERE