It hit me last night, the perfect combination of factors. There was pressure, wind, and a little bit of uncertainty. My stomach felt like a hot bowl of soup. Alexis was lying peacefully in bed. I hovered off to the side, assuming a deep sumo squat. “Look at your balls!” she yelled before being interrupted by the sound of a fog horn that was then submerged in water. She quickly put her head under the covers as I walked out of the room laughing.
I have a faint sense of hunger in my belly this morning. A huge upgrade from the low-level nausea I have been harboring since the beginning. I should note that I have always run a little nauseous. So I can’t give full credit to the Whole30.
Somehow, Woody slept in our bed the entire night. That would mark the first time. And hopefully the last. I never wanted Woody. Alexis and I were at Grant’s Marketplace enjoying a toasted breakfast sandwich back before the regime came through town and took away all our bread. She was admiring a cute little puppy face when the dog jumped out of his owner’s arms and into Alexis’. And everyone’s thinking, Omg omg omg, it was meant to be! And I will tell you this – it was just a desperate puppy that would have done it to the next person that gave him attention. But whatever works for your story. Anyway, she held him and she looked at me with motherly eyes. I knew her heart was melting.
“He’s so cute,” she said to the owner.
“Do you want him?” She replied.
Only half jokingly.
“Really?!” Alexis asked.
And then the convo kind of awkwardly fizzled.
Outside, while we were enjoying our bites of grain freedom, little terrier face came and sat right next to us. He was well-behaved and unbearably cute. The owner admitted that she was overwhelmed – recently single and with a young son. She thought it would help them but you could tell it was beating her down. She confided in Alexis that she did, in fact, want to get rid of him and she would love it if we were the new owners.
“We can’t get a dog. I’m sorry. We are gone almost half the year. It’s just not possible,” I had to tell Alexis. Cold-hearted bastard.
Alexis was disappointed but understood.
In the car, as we were pulling out, she started crying. Out of nowhere, just crying and trembling.
I stopped the car. Looked at her. Wanted to say something manly and assuring but all I could do was tell her to go talk to the lady. Get her phone number. We agreed Alexis would wait 48 hours for the emotions to cool. But if she still wanted him at that point she could make the call.
Two days later Alexis woke up with a smile on her face, “Can we get him?!” She asked.
Fuck, I thought. I had already forgotten about him and hoped my ingenious cooling off period would have settled the issue for her as well. Turns out, she thought about his little face every second of every day since she saw him. So that evening, on my birthday, we went and picked up our new pup. He had some French name – classic California – so we changed it to Woody.
I’ve been following him around with a lint roller and broom every since.
What a difference that panda bread makes. We just had our usual breakfast, from the old days – fried egg, “toast”, and bacon. And I feel GOOD. Like myself even. But then, as a result of our new found fame, we were gently reminded that there is no such thing as Whole30 compliant bread. Not my first run-in with the law.
Article IV: Clause II, Section 1.3 of the Whole30 Testament states – “You may not replace junk food with approved ingredients for you will still be weak and a failure like every other arena of your life and dependent on a Godless sugar for your salvation.”
To which I feel a little disheartened. But ultimately I think we can stand behind this decision. I did take a semester of civil law in college. It’s all about precedent. Based on the ruling of Cauliflower v Rice I have reason to believe that our “bread” is allowable if only used for breakfast as a means of stopping me from having no appetite and widdling away to nothing. Should you catch me with the bread in the closet reenacting American Pie scenes then I will acknowledge that we have crossed the line.
But gd, check those bitches out.
I have come to an important realization about the science of this diet. More so, the science nobody is talking about. It’s not so much that you break your addiction to sugar as it is you start to slowly lose your memory due to a lack of available nutrients. As I’m sure millions of cells in my brain commit suicide daily on this new regime the ability to remember simple things like syrup and peanut butter is diminishing. As a result, I can only long for the food that I see in front of me daily. I am like Woody now. So many underlying moves at play here.
We are off to IKEA as we have to remodel our kitchen to accommodate Whole30’s prep demands.
I put on jeans, in case there were news reporters out front.
Not our best IKEA run. I was feeling really good, actually. Calm, tranquil. We even stopped by Costco first to pick up some photo prints. Normally, I would be eye-ballin’ every last person in there laughing at their True Religion jeans. But today I just felt peaceful.
Same at IKEA. I was enjoying my new found freedom when I noticed Alexis didn’t feel so very peaceful. She was upset that she couldn’t get this one sauce pan without buying the whole set. Her upsetness made me upset. Because when you’re in a relationship it’s not good enough if you feel good, your partner also has to feel good at the exact same time for you to enjoy your own feelgoodness. Instead of asking her what I could do to help I asked her why she was sulking around. It’s just a gd sauce pan… As you can imagine, that didn’t help. So then we were both in bad moods.
Just snacking on a Whole30 compliant orange.
When I was a kid I used to judge my friends based off their snack cupboards. Ours was untouchable. Cheetos, Doritos, Handisnacks, Pringles, Gushers (omg), Triscuits, you name it. We ruled all. And when I would go over a friend’s house that had a parent that was all into fitness it would just be a bowl of fruit and some greens in the drawers of the fridge. I thought, this fucking asshole doesn’t have any food. What does he eat?! And I’ve carried that mindset into much of my adult life. Don’t get me wrong, I would still need a sponsor present to turn down all those amazingly salty chips. But I value this orange. I see it as real food. As something that is going to sustain me and give me real nutrition. Seeing past the initial sweet taste of junk food and putting more emphasis on how I want to feel.
And the kitchen is on fire.
I asked if I could be helpful and she said I could cook the meat. I’m reminded of why I never used to cook meat at home. This looks like crumpled up baby guts. And I’m about to eat it on a taco. I also thought I was a tribal leader in a past life. Perhaps we were a vegetarian tribe.
The sleeper of the day is the kale chips that Alexis has been working on.
Are these SWYPO ?
And the guac.
Another shit your pants good lunch. Pan-cooked ground beef with red onions, green leaf lettuce, homemade guac, homemade cauliflower rice, sauteed squash, mushrooms, onions, and some hot sauce for yo mama.
Something is happening to me today. I feel almost… happy. We just ate amazing tacos. I’m still a little bit hungry but I’m waiting a few minutes before I have an orange. There are leftovers on the stove. I could chow down the rest of the ground beef. But I’m just waiting. Because I like how this feels. I am doing all the right things today. Like I’m a good person or something with a good brain that isn’t out to torture me.
Did I mention I had four bonafide abs last night? Alexis confirmed. And as much as I want to be a deep thinker, abs are pretty much the pinnacle of human existence.
Back to the point of how I’m feeling. I had an amazing day yesterday. So refreshing. I mean, I was going to shop this blog concept around to all these heavyweights and at the last minute I decided to just keep it on my own site because that meant I could be me all the way. That’s what caught the founder’s eye. Something authentic and something she could appreciate. I received one of those life lessons custom wrapped.
And that has carried over to today. Because my outlook has shifted, my experience on the diet has shifted. I wonder what individual moments people have on this diet that contribute to their “feel good moments”?
Is this about food? Or is it more about life? Or is it about how PACKED our fridge looks?!
As a scientific experiment, this whole thing is completely shot, though. I’ve lost track of all the variables contributing to my experience.
Some things I was noting on my phone at IKEA while peeing in the urinal imagining everyone thought I was snapping a pic of my D – I will permanently replace grain rice with cauliflower rice. It’s cheaper, easy to make, and carries a lot less consequence for me. And we (Alexis) will definitely continue to make our own almond and cashew milk. I think it gives us some real street cred in the progressive yuppie circle.
Some questions I have regarding bread. Is bread good or bad? Why does bread taste so good if it’s bad? Am I allergic to gluten or grains or neither? Both? Does it really not affect you the same in Europe? Would my body respond better to gluten free bread or bakery fresh sourdough? Is panda bread a sustainable option?
Other observations – I’m certainly not immune to pizza in a display case. Not even IKEA pizza, which is basically FSC wood with tomato sauce on top. I look at it and I long to build an off the grid home inside its warm cheese. You want to know my defense? You can borrow this one. I look at the people that are eating the pizza and notice that they are generally overweight. If that’s not enough, then I imagine them being behind on their mortgage. And it gives me some peace.
I’m already being tampered with. Two days ago I would have called them fat.
Now that you guys are all out there, will someone please send us an iRobot for the apartment? I think it will help Woody stay in good graces with me. Also, I will post a picture of him riding it around the house.
We are at our studio shooting for Alexis’ vintage shop – SAME SAME Vintage – which I will keep plugging because I am proud of her and she has an amazing ability to find awesome clothes for next to nothing. At least that’s what she tells me regarding the next to nothing part. I know she can certainly find and buy clothes like a professional.
We’ve done this a hundred times. Normally I just act annoyed the whole time even though I actually enjoy the technical aspects of fashion photography. A couple years ago, when we were just friends, I took her portraits in my apartment. There was no assignment, I just wanted to work on a new lighting technique I had learned. I got a huge boner while shooting and tried to keep it hidden from her because our friendship was very delicate in regards to attractiveness – seeing as I tried to get her to want me about thirty times unsuccessfully. Point being, I just took a picture that looked exactly like the first portrait I ever took of her. And what’s also weird, I got a semi while taking it. Only now, I can tell her. (For those readers over 45 – a ‘semi’ is a partial boner).
Circa early 2015
I really like being in the studio. It’s my workshop. Makes me feel like a man. I can cut my orange open with a pocket knife and carves apples with the same one and then use it to build something real quick just wiping the juice off on my handkerchief.
We are hustling to get dinner together in time to watch the final Obama speech. Politics aside, I will miss him. But thanks to Whole30 it doesn’t look like we’re going to be done in time.
Oh yeah, livestream.
I just really appreciate intelligent, compassionate leaders that respect the rights of all citizens. I need to work more on being open to people who have opposing opinions. That’s all.
(Meaning, that’s all I need to work on. Not, that’s all I am going to say about politics).
Dinner was bomb.com. Can you imagine the person who thought to purchase that domain?
Here we have baked salmon topped with basil, parsley, lemon zest, and olive oil alongside roasted veggies and a fresh and decadent salad.
I never used to like seafood growing up. In fact, I never liked anything other than plain turkey and cheese sandwiches, chips, and orange soda. Thankfully, my old landlord and friend Nancy took me out to lunch one day and insisted I get all the veggies on my sandwich. Next thing you know I was at women’s rights rallies screaming, “Free the nipple!”
I’m open to change. I’m excited to see how this diet continues to change me. My guess, and my hope, is that I haven’t even gotten started yet.
Read Day 11 HERE.