I like this diet. I said it. I’ve proved that I can stay on a strict, simple, no frills diet for this long. And you know what? I’m in no rush to stop it. Tuesday is Day 30 and it means little to me. On Day 31, I can weigh in and as much as I’d like to see if I’ve lost weight, this has become more than the scale.
It’s become more than using strips of bacon to wipe away my tears because I’m hungry. It’s more than standing in front of the hubs, glaring at him, telling him he eats candy just to hurt me. And it’s so much more than looking at olive oil and hating it because it’s not butter.
It’s about this: giving my gut a rest from junk, withholding my paycheck from McDonald’s, cooking myself fresh foods for a month, and, most importantly, making myself a priority.
S and I are planning on our next Whole 30. And we plan to at least follow this plan loosely through the holidays.
Don’t get me wrong. As much as I’ve raved about this diet, I’m dying for a bite of cheese. Now excuse me, I have to go bust open some eggs.