IT’S BEEN THREE years since I took control of anything, least of all my life, instead allowing myself to be buffeted about by the winds of change. But enough is enough as the saying goes, and so half an hour ago I embarked once again on The Whole 30, a healthy eating program that promises to slim me down, rev me up and uncover my best self. If this all happens in a month just by giving up sugar, dairy, grains, wheat, oats, cereal, alcohol and legumes, and not weighing myself daily, I say it’s a small price to pay.
This decision comes after four days of eating mindlessly while out of town visiting dear friends who fed us very well, and a few restaurant meals high on the salt/butter content. And flying First Class round-trip didn’t help, what with the flight attendant coming by every fifteen minutes with a variety of ultra-fattening goodies I grabbed by the handful, hoping their consumption would make me forget I was locked inside a tube hurtling across the sky. (Yes, I have heard that flying is the safest form of travel, but still I find it disconcerting when the seat in front of me is emblazoned with the words, YOUR SEAT CUSHION CAN BE USED AS A FLOTATION DEVICE. You almost never see that in a car or a bus or train.) So sure, I’ll have another bag of that salty-sweet spicy popcorn, and a couple of those chocolate-chip cookies and some nuts too, thanks.
While there are plenty of nay-sayers out there who debunk this program as, well, bunk, I have five pairs of jeans, two of them never worn, waiting patiently in my closet cheering me on. I’m doing it for them. And of course to meet my best self; that sounds good too.
Andrea Rouda blogs at The Daily Droid.