Whole 30 Day 6 : Am I Sick of This Already?

Whole 30 Day 6 : Am I Sick of This Already?

8:14 a.m.

Adult things happened last night.

I am as nauseous as I’ve been since the beginning. I feel weak, my head hurts, and I couldn’t sleep well. I had a dream that a dozen of my friends were at the movies and to stay warm we had a dinosaur behind us breathing out of his nose. He was under the weather so his breath was hot.

I am nervous about this boxing lesson. I got exhausted just walking to the computer.

We are a mostly naked household in the mornings and late evenings and now that I have moved my work station to the middle of the apartment I am pretty confident that the old woman across the street in the purple puffer jacket sweeping her driveway has seen my penis on this fine morning.

I think we are going to have to start going to sleep immediately following dinner to prevent these overgrown hunger spells that turn into heavy nausea for me. I’m starting to do the comparison thing – is this a better diet than the blood sugar protocol I was on before? At least then I got to eat every two hours. And thirty minutes before bed. I wasn’t nauseous on that one ever. BUT, as I sit here and write I’m starting to get that Whole 30 tweaker energy shot running through my chest.

My spot has been commandeered by a small animal.


8:47 a.m.

I haven’t been remembering to brush my teeth as much – my breath doesn’t taste bad anymore. I used to wake up in the morning with the driest mouth it was almost hard to open. Now I can’t even remember what it was like to have that problem.

10:11 a.m

I’m back from my boxing lesson and feeling jubilous (not technically a word). I was definitely gassed while training, but it was because the cold had lingered a bit in my lungs. Physically, my movements reflected those of a panther after bedding several pantheras.

I came home very sweaty and thought it was a good opportunity to further test the Odors of the Body experiment I’m running.

“Hey, don’t get too close, but kinda close,” I said to Alexis as I lifted my left arm overhead.

“Do they smell?”

She leaned her nose in like any good wife would and said, “No, they don’t smell at all.” There was shock on her face. Then delight.

When people say the Whole 30 “changed their life,” I think what they meant to say was that it changed their way of seeing the world. And what I mean by that is when you take away potato chips you have to start looking for a lot more things to do.

10:26 a.m.

Breakfast has arrived. It is protein heavy as I was just pumping the old iron. Pan-fried chicken finger, two eggs, and leftover stirred fried veggies with chopped cashews. I enjoyed it with The Head and the Heart’s new album that A got me for Christmas.


12:15 p.m.

Just finished a photoshoot at the studio. The client was pretty nervous, she didn’t want to have her photo taken but needed it for a magazine feature. Those clients are difficult because they are too afraid to take direction and smiling seems like their mortal enemy. I was able to approach the situation with clarity and gave good instructions and even asked her to talk about what kind of person she was and how she wanted people to perceive her. More importantly, I was very nice to Alexis as she moved chairs around and combed back stray pieces of hair. Sometimes I am less than friendly during shoots. If you could imagine.

The ultimate light tester:


Whenever I take my car to the shop and have the oil changed, tires rotated, fluids capped off, I drive away feeling like it’s a new car. That’s how I feel right now – like a new car. An Audi A6 turbo. I’m not at Aston Martin status yet but there is an overwhelming sense of “cleanness” moving through my veins. I only wished I had been drinking alcohol for a month leading up to this challenge so I could feel even more contrast in effects.

Aside from all the physical benefits I was/am after, and there are many because I am unforgivably vein, there is a lot of mental stuff I’m hoping to explore. It’s been eight years since I’ve taken my last mental health cocktail. And I promised myself I’d never take another Zoloft, Xanax, or Wellbutrin no matter how bad it got. There have been phases where the anxiety and depression have buried me and it’s been hell to fight back out. After after too many fights I’ve wondered why this was happening to me and if this was going to be what I went through for the rest of my life. I’ve gotten comfortable with the ins and outs of it all but still wonder, daily, if there is a way to rid myself of these sometimes crippling shadow days. I know there is no way to “beat” mental health but I’ve learned that there are definitely ways to manage it. The Whole 30 seems like a step in the right direction. For my crazy friends, I will keep you posted.

12:41 p.m.

The food we normally eat was sedating us. People will think I am part of a crazy conspiracy cult but the food we normally eat is chemically altering our minds and preventing us from feeling like ourselves. From feeling good.

1:04 p.m.

Just booked another photoshoot while walking Woody. Pretty soon he is going to have gold-plated dog bowls. If he improves his behavior. He barked at a Mexican man on our walk and now he is a stereotypical Southern California blonde-haired dog.

1:30 p.m.

Lunch time, folks.

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We call this a salad. This particular one has some roasted veggies from last night – sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts, and red onions – accompanied by a lovely avocado – all lying tenderly over fresh arugula leaves lightly doused in a lemon vinaigrette. This one was ah guhd.

2:24 p.m.

Went to the airport to return a suitcase that United Airlines broke on my last flight home from Detroit. Zipper busted. I made the call, filed the claim. Man told me to drop it off at the airport within seven days for a replacement. Bada Bing Bada Boom.

“I have an open claim. I’m here for my suitcase,” I said holding my filleted roller bag.

“What’s the problem sir.”

“Well, the zipper exploded on my last flight.”

“Sir, you’re not going to like this,” she said as she got off her stool and walked over to the “fine print” poster hidden in the back.

“It says no zippers,” she continued.

Now I feel bad for this lady in this moment because I don’t know if I’m going to walk out of here peacefully or if suddenly there is going to be a hostage situation at baggage claim.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” I started. “I leave Detroit, my suitcase works great. I get home from Detroit, my suitcase is broken. Whose fault is that?”

“Sir, United has a policy that does not cover suitcases.”

“Whose fault is it?”


“I just want to be clear – you’re telling me that this broken suitcase is my fault?”

“It’s their policy. No zippers. That’s it.”

“I just want to thank you for being so helpful today,” I said as I walked out with my decrepit bag.

Before I hit the exit I threw the suitcase on top of a trash can and put my hand up in the air as the automatic doors slid open to signify the closing scene of The Breakfast Club.


3:14 p.m.

Our nicknames for Woody are getting more aggressive. Today I called him Barky Little Bitch. And yesterday it was Shit Face Hair Dog.

3:47 p.m.

“We need lettuce,” Alexis said and then took cover.

4:34 p.m.


$45 lettuce run.

4:36 p.m.

Alexis: “So, are you mad at me or at the diet?”


4:49 p.m.

Weak. Blood sugar feels low. Anxious to see what happens to my energy in these 3 + hour gaps between eating once I’ve “fully converted” to fat burning for energy.

It’s fitting that I moved my office to the “dining room.” We live in these 110 square feet. Back to back. Me, burning my eyeballs out staring at the computer. Her, bouncing those jugs around making delicious meals. It’s a real team effort making this work.



Don’t be embarrassed if you got caught up staring at dat ass.

We had to stop giving Woody steak. After he had his first few pieces he decapitated two stuffed animals and ripped the insides out of another. There were no survivors. He walks around with their empty torsos and makes Alexis and me uncomfortable.

5:38 p.m.

Alexis almost burned the house down via an oil fire.

5:57 p.m.

Which brings up the age old question – if your house was burning down and you could only grab one thing – what would it be? Personally, I’d be torn between my camera and a burrito.

6:00 p.m.

I know you think this is just a blog about my farts, and it is, but not without reason. A fart is how a man compares himself to the world.

“Alexis, wait for it,” I said as I bent over the stool.

“A fart?” She inquired.

The build up was tremendous. I’m normally clutch. But all that happened was a little baby blunder.

“That’s it?” She asked, taunting me.

6:10 p.m.

Pretty soon I’m gonna start sneaking in political slights and you’ll talk at home about how I’m a food blogger and I should stop hanging out with Hollywood celebrities and stick to what I know. That’s what you’re paying me for anyway. Not my opinion on real world matters that’s for sure. And the very things you’ve come to love about me you will soon begin to hate. Because isn’t that how all relationships go? And aren’t we engaging in a form of a relationship here? I’m just asking that you keep an open mind and don’t be afraid of using a knuckle every now and then if things get stagnant here.

6:49 p.m.

Finally, after #OilFireGate, dinner has arrived. That make a lot of hours since I’ve last eaten. I haven’t hurt anyone. There’s no one currently in our trunk. I haven’t said anything with long-term effects to Alexis. I’m still playing a game of perpetual fetch with Woody. I think this is a victory.

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Chicken. That’s all I remember. I caught a tendon tonight. That is going to make tomorrow very difficult for me mentally.

On the left we have our signature Sweet Cinnapotato Soup. With a pinch of salt most of our guests find it to be a winter favorite. On on the right is our friend chicken. With some roasted veggies – mushrooms, yellow squash, zucchini, onions, and broccoli. You’ll notice that fire sauce on top. That’s a new one. That’s homemade red pepper sauce. And that shit’s delicious. Although Alexis said it made her face red. And according to her journal entries, which will be released in the estate sale, both times she has eaten peppers she has noticed redness in her face. And they are a nightshade veggie. Bad bad bad for the autoimmunes.

“I’m still going to eat the sauce tomorrow. It was so good,” she said.

And here in lies the great human dilemma.

8:06 p.m.

There are happy families all across the country enjoying the delights of Mexican cuisine this evening. The novelty of the Whole 30 is starting to wear off. Tomorrow concludes our first week. 25% completion. The thoughts of quitting are only going to trickle down harder. I won’t quit because that will mean all the old people will get to talk about kids not sticking to their commitments these days. But I agree, quitting is not something I’m built on. Here goes to the end.

8:26 p.m.

I’m Googling therapists that cover Whole 30 related trauma.

8:42 p.m.

Greg just texted me that they made vegan rice krispy treats tonight.

“That was a great thing for the two of you to do,” I replied.

He told me to drive down the alley at 9 mph with the passenger window down and he would make the throw at exactly 9 p.m.

“Alexis, I’m going for a quick cruise. I’ll be back soon.”


Read Day 5 HERE.

4 Replies to “Whole 30 Day 6 : Am I Sick of This Already?”

  1. I have eaten Whole 30 for 4 years. I used to be on all kinds of psych meds. I used to be obese. I used to care what other people think. I used to eat like shit. I used to not like my body or like to walk around the house naked. i used to wallow in self-pity. I used to make excuses for eating shitty non-foods and the return was I felt…well, like shit all the time. None of this remains in my life. This blog is inspiring me to write about how Whole 30 completely changed my life. I would never want to go back to thinking that drinking black coffee is hard. I’ve had eight brain surgeries. Thats a bit hard. Eating delicious food mindfully is not hard, it is easy as fuck. I don’t wallow in self-pity anymore, nor do I think I will ever go back to eating fake foods.

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