Two Out Of Three ...

Coffee cream reality check:

And all I can do is keep on telling you
I want you, I need you
But-there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you
Now don't be sad
'Cause two out of three ain't bad
Now don't be sad
'Cause two out of three ain't bad.

(Meatloaf ... which we're allowed, by the way)

20/30 = 2/3

Two thirds done. Ten days to go. Yeesh. Ten days is obviously a lot longer than ten minutes left on my run. At the ten minute mark, I would be furiously scrolling through my iPod looking for songs to keep me going. Maybe negotiating some sort of reward for making it to the end, like a latte ...

Not that this is going to be over in ten minutes or ten days for that matter. It's a lifestyle.

Two out of three ain't bad, three out of three completes (me).

Coffee cream, I love you.

Hey Nineteen

"Hey Nineteen
No we can't dine together
No we can't eat at all
Please take me along
When you slide on down (the scale)."

I thoroughly dislike the number nineteen and was going to skip an update today but what the hey nineteen.

Ian says there is less of me to hug these days but my theory is he can get a little closer to me now that he's lost weight.

There are lots of advantages to losing weight. Things like spooning versus stacking; being able to see for yourself when your toenails need cutting rather than waiting until you draw blood from your partner; retrieving your low-rise panties from the back of the underwear drawer even though you can't fit in your low-rise jeans yet; and going a whole week without anyone asking when your baby's due.

As for the food, we have been 100% faithful to the whole30 plan. If we can do it, you can do it.

Hey nineteen.

Top Of The Hill

Hullabaloo, day fifteen and half way though. The scream for cream has subsided to a whimper and will hopefully settle there until reintroduction. Insert wistful sigh right about now.

The benefits, at least for me, are emerging slower than the Spring thaw, not quite as stubborn as molasses. A little less bloat, improved gastrointestinal function, clarity of thought at least twice a day, and a rib-spotting earlier this morning.

Ian's data is more scientific: 10lbs lighter (after breakfast and wearing fleece penguin pyjama bottoms, the kind that weigh at least a kilo or two) and an inch and a half less around the middle. I am thrilled to be losing weight vicariously though him. It almost feels as though I've lost weight too.

Almost, not quite.

One thing I have noticed so far is that I cannot skip a meal. No way José. I got into trouble yesterday after eating a late lunch then heading into town to watch a play that Ian's daughter was in.

Right before, we stopped by the Plâteau to pick up some ordered prints from lovely street photographer Mikaël Theimer, who, by the way, has offered to take our "after" photo, then dropped by the Starbucks near the theatre to gulp down some black coffee.

Chugging his café allongé, Ian munched on the organic almonds and dates he brought along but I desisted because almonds make my teeth hurt and dates remind me of large, legless cockroaches. I simply cannot eat anything that looks like it was once alive: no pleading eyes begging for mercy, no hands and feet waving good-bye, and no insect shaped food with or without appendages. The only exception to the latter rule would be rainbow-coloured, fruit flavoured insects made with 100% sugar and food colouring.

Getting back to the play, it totally rocked but by the time I left the theatre I was weak at the knees. Not far from the ground, I know, but still wobbly. Snatching the snack bag from Ian, I closed my eyes and pretended I was eating date squares. It helped briefly but was no replacement for a solid meal. And eating something substantial at midnight wasn't really an option.

Thank goodness for the clocks moving forward. It was the perfect excuse to get up for an earlier breakfast.

Lesson learned. To be fair, two weeks ago sugar ruled. Now I am forced to respond to my body's needs.

I probably won't post about our Whole30 adventure as often from here on in, that is, unless my nine subscribers clamour for more which is highly unlikely considering how slim and trim they all are.

See you on the other side of the hill!

Checking up on an old friend.

A hilarious scene from Alkestis, performed by second year theatre students at Dawson.

Thirteen

Day thirteen. Prime number, Fibonacci number, compound number, lucky number, evil number. 

To my mother's dismay, I once chose a wedding date on the 13th only to watch the groom drive away in my car a few weeks before and never come back. 

There is not much to say about this day as it cannot be reduced to anything more optimistic than itself out of thirty. It is two days short of the half-way mark.

We have run out of food. Whole30 food. 

Black coffee isn't so bad this morning.

Thirteen shall be my mantra today. Om shanti thirteen ....

Day 10

Ian just lost his pants walking from the living room to the kitchen. I guess it's better than losing an eye or his lunch.

I suggested he buy some high-rise boxers real soon so that he doesn't give the kids at school an eyeful as he whittles his way down to a smaller size of black jeans. I specify black because since the 90s, he is referred to as the other man in black.

Speaking of lunch, I forgot mine (in its spanking new microwave-safe container bought expressly for transport) at home the past two days in a row. Nothing like salivating through an entire session with your eleven o'clock, in anticipation of chicken curry and root vegetables back at the office, only to find two mandarins, some stale walnuts and a fork in your lunch box.

One thing I've realized since returning to work this week is that I have not been working for the week-end all these years but rather for the cream in my coffee. If there is anything worse than black coffee first thing in the morning at home, it is black coffee first thing in the morning at the office. The pleasure centre in my brain is very confused and has directed my right arm to swing the fridge door open as my left arm reaches for the 10% cream every single morning since we started the whole30. And every time I take a sip of my cream-less coffee, it screams in agony. I am in need of some serious neuroplasticity right about now!

Not surprisingly, I have decided that the first food I will reintroduce after the thirty days is up is cream. And if I'm okay with cream, I can live without the rest.

On a positive note, my concentration is improved. I can finish writing a progress note without getting distracted and am less sleepy during history-taking. I remember what I got up to get when I get up to get something and am taking less bathroom breaks (possibly because I can't bear to finish that black coffee).

Oh, and there is a parallel challenge going on between me and the boys at the office. They've decided to get healthy too before bathing suit season and set some fitness goals of their own. Being scientists, we decided the best outcome measure is waist size. And when I say waist size, I really mean the circumference of our bellies. Thankfully, I have the smallest measurement from the get-go but not by much. We will take another measurement in exactly a month, then at two months and so on.

A third of the way through, folks. Catch you later!

Day Seven (And A Half)

We are a quarter of the way through this plan. There is hope and it is light at the end of a very tight tunnel. We are looking forward to good health and skinny jeans.

Okay, maybe not skinny, boot cut would be fine too as long as they are blue, have a snap and don't expand to accommodate middle-age spread/muffin tops/cake tiers/pot bellies.

Ian weighed himself yesterday and has already dropped six pounds. He's feeling better and more energetic. I am not tempted to step on the scale because I purposefully didn't weigh-in on day one.

Unfortunately, I am lagging behind when it comes to energy levels, something the plan warns may happen if your body is used to relying on sugar as fuel. I also have to eat more often than Ian, in the form of nutritious snacks. This can be quite distracting as I am used to ignoring those signals in order to save myself for chocolate.

We've filled the week with activities that we enjoy: music, books, movies, and creativity. We also managed to cope with evenings out, declining the delicious food we usually enjoy at our beloved Mariposa Café and opting instead for Perrier and tisanes.

This coming week will present a new challenge as we are back to work. Not so much avoiding the forbidden food as planning ahead so that we have enough to eat for the day.

I absolutely loathe meal prep and cooking so I am grateful to Ian for doing the good majority if not all of it. My fridge has never been so full. My kitchen, never so messy. Oh well, It was about time I put it to use.

Finally, although I didn't step on the scale or take a dreadful down-to-my-skivvies selfie under fluorescent lights, I do have a before picture of us taken by street photographer Mikaël Theimer on the first day of our plan.

Tum to tum, voilà!

You can read about days one and four here and here.

See you in a few days!

                             

Day Four

Thirty is a number I know all too well from my runs. On those days when it feels like an uphill trudge all the way, I like to divide my run into increments, partly as motivation, mostly as a distraction to get me through it. It is effective if not very mindful. My treadmill celebrates my progress in percentages of ten but that isn't enough for me. I divide the thirty minutes by thirty : one thirtieth; two thirtieths or one fifteenth; five minutes is one sixth of the way through followed immediately by one fifth at six minutes; seven and a half minutes is one quarter; and ten minutes is one third. Sometimes it's so bad, I'll divide a minute into sixty and count.

You get the picture. I do the math.

I'm coping with this whole30 plan pretty much the same way. Yesterday, we were at the ten percent mark. But day five is tomorrow and that means we are a sixth of the way through. Woo hoo!

The book explains what we should expect by use of a timeline. Day 2 to 3 is the hangover phase : "The amount of suck you experience in this phase is directly proportional to the amount of junk you consumed before you began the program. Especially if you consumed it consistently."

Uh-oh.

I am clearly still in the hangover phase, headachy and foggy, my Hobbit body mourning the sudden removal of sugar as a source of energy, my mind adrift as it can no longer count on chocolate as a reward for getting through the day. Apart from these feelings of malaise, I am also having to adjust to actual hunger pangs, something quite foreign to me, as I almost always eat according to cravings. This is especially surprising because I am eating way more in terms of volume of food, three meals instead of my usual one meal plus snacks.

For the most part, this plan has been easy to follow. Today's big challenge was not licking the peanut butter off my fingers after making toast for Sean. And I still miss my usual coffee concoction. Ask Ian how many times I've reached for the cream since we've started this thing only to shout, "Arghh, no cream!"

Something is definitely shifting, even after only four days. My tummy is less bloated and this morning I could actually see my eyes without having to move things aside. Ian is feeling a difference too and having less side-effects than me.

Holy moly, in two days we will be a fifth of the way through!

The countdown continues ...

Apple slices and almond butter for a snack. And black coffee. :(