I just keep rambling on and on about how easy the Whole30 is, and I get the sense some of you are virtually rolling your eyes at me. So let me be honest here. I ate a slice of bread with butter this weekend. It happened, and I’m not proud. But when you get invited to a retreat in Hocking Hills and you’re too embarrassed to BYO vegetables, the Whole30 becomes significantly more challenging. Especially when dinner on night #1 is pasta and bread. It wasn’t even special. Just a small hunk of cold french bread with a bit of butter to quiet my growling belly.
When I woke up the next morning, I felt angry. It took me a bit to put my finger on it, but I realized that I was angry I’d lost control. And that perhaps the reason I like Whole30 so much is that it appeals to my strong desire to be in control. (Verdicts still out on whether this is a good or bad thing. . . )
On day #2 of the retreat, I got back on the wagon. While my comrades indulged in biscuits and gravy, french fries, all-you-can-eat pie buffets, and 13-variety wine tastings, I ate eggs and potatoes, SALAD BAR x 100, and maybe a little too much coffee. And I felt really good, actually. Even when I turned down a cheese-loaded potato skin. Even after passing on the gooey candied apple. Even when declining the wine slushy. Even when offered a hot gooey brownie FOR BREAKFAST. (Full disclosure: I brought the brownie home and popped it in the freezer for post-Whole30 enjoyment.) I felt so good, I decided to start my Whole30 over again, to make up for that lousy slice of bread and butter.