There are times when I have looked back on things I have done and asked myself ‘what the hell were you thinking?’ Usually when the ‘thing’ didn’t pan out well or was an uphill climb on one’s fingertips and toes… for hours, days, months even; with no peak in sight and no spectacular vista as a reward for the effort. Then there are times when I have thanked the heavens for doing what I was thinking, saying to myself ‘thank the heavens for doing that!’ Or words to that effect; though only when the ‘thing’ brought with it some wonderful feel-good hormones spread out on a picnic rug with a wicker basket containing some lovely brie, nice wine and a freshly baked baguette or two smack bang in the middle of that there rug. My inaugural Whole 30 experience was, for the most part, a combination of both pain/hell and yumminess/heaven.
There I was, visiting my child in January 2018, innocent and/or ignorant of the ways of the Paleo and Whole 30 worlds, and, minding my own business and that of my son and his partner (as a mother is prone to do). Eavesdropping (as a mother is prone to do) on a conversation about a friend not joining my son’s partner in doing the Whole 30.
‘I’ll do it with you,’ I heard a voice sounding very much like my own offer. Having absolutely no idea what the hell I was getting myself in to or where the hell that had come from. I looked around anxiously, searching for the demon that had temporarily and suddenly possessed me. Gulp. It was the ‘best mother-in-law (possibly) in the world’ she-bitch demon. I hate that demon! ‘What does it entail?’ I asked, sipping on a G&T, gnawing on a piece of baguette smothered with brie, flashing my best fake ‘yeah, I’ve got this, I can do anything, I am invincible’ look. Both of them looked at me, then at each other with small knowing smirks.
‘It means…,’ deep breath, pregnant pause ‘No alcohol…’ I choke. ‘… No dairy…’ I cough up a piece of brie. ‘… No grains, which means no wheat, rice, quinoa…’ I continue coughing up brie and bread. ‘No legumes, including peanuts…’ I gulp down some G&T to staunch the coughing. ‘And… no sugar.’
‘Well, that sounds doable,’ gulp, gulp, guzzle, guzzle. ‘When do we start?’
‘Tomorrow.’ More shared smirking.
‘Right,’ I finish the G&T, the baguette, the brie. ‘We’d better go shopping then.’ I’ll show these two spring chickens, I thought as I flapped my wings and struggled to extricate my bottom from the couch’s boa constrictor like grasp.
Off we went to the special boutique wholefoods grocery store: which adds ten percent for each letter of the words ‘wholefoods’ and ‘organic’ – which one finds incredible, as there is less processing, manufacturing and packaging involved. Why did I voice that out loud? Queue lesson on mass production, chemical spraying, recycling, land clearing, greenhouse gases, climate change, permaculture and minimalism. All before selecting my first organic, locally grown avocado. I hold tight to the trendy wicker basket (a nice touch provided free of charge at the entrance; though, I was sad to find out, one cannot take the basket home no matter how much is spent in store, and no matter how tightly it was held… bummer). My son and his partner walked the aisles whilst I trailed behind gasping at the prices of the items they were putting in the tightly clutched trendy wicker basket.
‘You’ll need this…’ plonk. ‘… and this…’ plonk. ‘Read the labels of EVERYTHING. No sugar. It is in EVERYTHING. Except this…’ plonk. Three hundred dollars later (I am prone to exaggeration as well as eavesdropping and minding my son and his partner’s business), I walked out of the store with a lovely hand-made paper bag filled with fish sauce, sauerkraut, pickled cucumbers, pickled kale, cocomino (what the hell is that?), raw nuts, raw seeds, organic veggies complete with dirt, smoked salmon, some special non-cured bacon and ham (?) and the word ‘compliant’.
‘We have a heap of compliant food at home,’ they said as we walked to the car. ‘We cook our compliant meals every Sunday for the whole week,’ they said as we climbed into the car. ‘You can have some of our compliant food…’ they said as we drive back to their place. ‘…If you’re happy to throw in some money,’ they said. Smirk, smirk, smirky, smirk. So why did I just buy all this stuff? Hmmm… I am sure these two have shares in the special boutique wholefoods grocery store with the trendy wicker baskets and lovely hand-made paper bags. And, ironically (and with a healthy dose of stupidity), I am a tad proud my son has turned into a miser-meister, the direct opposite of his uber-bountiful mother, and am sure I would be prouder still of them extracting money from the innocent and/or ignorant, if that idiot wasn’t me.
After unpacking the groceries and whilst some furious productivity occurred in the kitchen, I was initiated into the world of Whole 30. ‘There’s a book over there,’ knife pointed in the general direction of the bookshelf whilst indicating ‘get the hell out of our kitchen while we cook’, which I completely understood. I took my chicken wing arms covered in olive-oiled brussel sprout leaves over to the bookshelf and whipped out the book titled ‘Whole 30’. How hard can it be? Really? I can eat all the veggies I like (and I love veggies), all the meat I like (except cured bacon and ham), all the nuts I like (except peanuts), all the seafood I like (except lobster; because I am a white belt miser-meister), all the fruit I like (except all the fruit I like; perhaps one piece a day as the amount of fructose should be limited), all the mushrooms I like (except I don’t like mushrooms), all the eggs I like (watch this space), plus I can drink all the water I like. Luckily for me, I’m a glass of water half full type of gal. I am certain I can do this.
That night, with the Whole 30 book downloaded onto my iPhone, a glass of G&T in one hand and a slab of brie in the other (waste not, want not I always say), I read, by backlight, the reasoning behind eating wholefoods for thirty days and then reintroducing the eliminated foods back in gradually. I read the Whole 30 is a detox for the digestive system, flushing out the modern additives and ‘flavour enhancers’, absorbing the vitamins and nutrients from organic, grass-fed, chemical-free, in season, unprocessed foods: a similar diet to the grannies of old, hold the baked goods and dairy. I read the Whole 30 encourages good eating behaviours, three solid meals a day with no snacking. I read the benefits may include weight loss, eliminate aches and pains, eliminate bloating, clear skin, an increase in energy levels… I tip out the G&T and throw away the brie. I’m in. And it’s only for thirty days, right?