Whole 30? Me?

Whole 30? Me?

Posted on May 10, 2017


Being a Baby Boomer, I’m not all that well versed in the vernacular of today’s popular diets. If someone asks me if a food is clean, I assume they want to know if I washed the lettuce.

But as I rapidly approach my 6th decade, there’s no denying that aging is taking its toll. For me, it rears its ugly head in arthritis. My husband Steve’s old-man ailment involves his digestion. I guess my grandmother was right…getting old is not for sissies. So when my fit, healthy, millennial kids told me they’d like to have me around for a while and that what I eat has a direct impact on my health, I figured if I couldn’t beat ‘em, I’d join ‘em.  Hence, my husband and I are giving Whole 30 a try.

Day 1 consisted of making grocery lists and shopping. It was kind of fun. Days 2 & 3 added to the excitement, as I cheerfully prepared salad every which way and served whole, clean meals. (By this point I may have become a tad know-it-all-ish, casting a sideways glance at anyone eating a meal out of a box or with a barcode.)

What do I miss? Coke Zero and Chocolate. Are you kidding me? At 4:00 in the afternoon, when every last ounce of initiative, energy and brain power is completely depleted, am I not allowed to refuel with a sweet cool soda and candy bar? Let me tell you, a handful of pecans and a glass of water doesn’t’ do it. Steve suffers most at the reality that he cannot have his Zesta crackers.  I don’t even pretend to understand that.

There are days we’re convinced we are coming down with the flu, based on our lack of energy and desire to crawl into bed. Temptation is slamming Steve at work. The office recently had a cookie bake-off / tasting contest. The festivities were followed with an employee excursion to the local Mexican restaurant. Steve was heroic. He valiantly refused even a crumb of a cookie, and ate a cold salad at his desk.

I appreciated Dave Rod’s admission that he was grumpy during his Whole 30 experience. Amen and preach it, Pastor! The general haze of anger (we call this hangry) and irritation enshrouds me at the thought that my next bite of sugar is weeks away. To protect the innocent, I’ve avoided people when possible. When I’ve had no choice, I keep to myself, doing my best to say nothing at all if I can’t say something nice.

Day 10 has my husband and I wondering if we may be coming out of our funk. We don’t feel the need to go to bed hours before the sun, and we’ve even found the energy to walk around the block and clean the dishes a couple of times.

What don’t we miss? Our ailments. Steve decided to set his probiotic aside for 30 days, and even still, his digestive issues are lessening. And me? Several days now, I’ve actually forgotten to take my anti-inflammatory for my arthritis. This is unheard of. A week ago, if I didn’t take that pill as soon as I awoke, I would be stiff up for hours.

Our impressions so far? We aren’t happy, but we are surviving. Could it be that what we eat really does make a difference? As much as I miss my sugar and bread, I must admit the benefit of feeling good and being healthy is a great motivator. And I do want to be the best I can be for God and those I love, for as long as possible.  

My kids would sure be proud.

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