Whole 30, Day … 30!

So, here we are.

We adhered near-perfectly (more on the “near” below) to our Whole30, and, well, we’re addicted.

No, it’s not an addiction to the diet itself. We aren’t addicted to sweet potatoes or the aforementioned cauliflower hummus or this ridiculously good, garlicky pork egg roll bowl. (Though, in the case of the second delicious pepper strip-dipper, I’m fairly close.)

OMG. Farty aftereffects, though.

We are addicted to the Tiger Blood.

Yup, it’s real.

NON-VANITY VICTORY: It’s hard to describe how “on” and confident I’ve been feeling. Last week was one of the best at work in a while, and, as mentioned, I have a consistently full social meter. My stress level, reflected in my RHR, is down significantly. The feeling … well, it’s just not worth trading for my formerly daily cheese habit.

And … perhaps most significantly … I’ve gone from eating 19 Santa hat kisses in one sitting to no longer craving sugar. No hypoglycemic crazies; no perpetually seeking my next fix.

OWNING MY CHEATS: The only conscious cheat, beyond just uncertainty about a salad dressing, happened at my company holiday party. I wanted a sweet little boost before I, not reluctantly, hopped up on stage with my management team and serenaded everyone with an 80s anthem.  But it was a moderate indulgence.

80s candy buffet at our company party. No, I didn’t eat all of it. I’m hoarding it because it makes me nostalgic for the Proctor Milk House.

Nobody’s Whole30 is perfect, but ours was a game of inches.

VANITY VICTORIES: I have lost, Whole-ly Crap, more than TEN POUNDS! Being “Superfit T” and getting back into clothes I wore a few years ago, in the days before I lost my identity, seems actually … feasible. For a long time, I wasn’t sure I could do it, though I kept saying “someday, maybe.” 

Now, I just know I will do it.

At the gym last night, as I did TRX twists, I couldn’t help but let loose a Cheshire Cat grin at how my shirt glided back and forth over my flat stomach.

I also, just this morning, pulled on another pair of my beloved Express pants (the less forgiving Editor style), which, paired with bright sweaters and low-heeled boots, used to be my office uniform.

We are planning a fast-track reintroduction, where I can confirm my suspected sensitivities to hormone-laden bovine mammary excretions, but … based on my skin, clear sinuses, and overall energy, I’m pretty convinced already. Yes, I’ve got a dairy issue. Yup, me … the one who had thrice-weekly Nutter Butter Blizzards when I was preggers.

So, OVERALL: I’m so very happy we did this. It strengthened my self-concept in ways I haven’t felt in years. I committed; I followed through; I succeeded. I knew it was in me; I just needed to recapture my old self-discipline.

I’ll review the reintroductions one at a time over the next couple of weeks. Mr. Man and I are planning to start a second round on February 15, after a classic Wisco supper club dinner … complete with a cheese ball and Keebler sesame seed breadsticks.

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