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.
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.
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.
Alexis says I’m lighter today. I feel more calm and alive to her.
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.
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.
Here I am in the kitchen using all of the utensils at once because of my diverse skill set in the culinary arts.
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.
Compassion did not prevail.
Woody keeps looking out the window, presumably for a new family that eats bread.
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.
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.
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.
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.
My B.O. is back in dramatic fashion.
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.
Where is our dog?
Sun’s out, Wood’s out.
“This smoothie tastes like Halle Berry’s breast milk.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
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.
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.
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.
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’.
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.
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?
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.