I’ve been doing a lot of meditation and soul-searching because I’m trying to figure out how committed I am to squeezing back into a pair of size 31 jeans. Right now, I exercise regularly, I vary my workouts, I dance, I lift heavy shit and etc, etc. However, there was that two-week stint when I ate ice cream for breakfast. And once, when I was craving a Nutella sandwich only to discover that there was none in the cupboard, I substituted the Nutella with chocolate frosting that was in the fridge. Let me be clear: I ate a chocolate frosting sandwich.
In my younger days I was – how shall I put it? uhm.. gifted, all natural and bursting the seams – so it’s a slippery dulce de leche flavoured slope to fall back into old eating habits.
And while I was steadily getting disappointed that sweat pants became a staple wardrobe choice, the things that bothered me the most ran deeper. I was sluggish, my quality of sleep was terrible, I drank way too much coffee to get me through the day, I injured something new during every dance class, and I was a straight up uber-bitch to everyone around me.
Far from my best and brightest self, I deemed that a change needed to brew.
Choosing to begin with my diet because it was something that was relatively easy to control, I was hopeful that this would lead to getting all the other parts magically fixed. So I threw away the frosting and decided to eat food that was designed to look and taste like other types of food. For example:
– cauliflower that was made to be like rice
– almond butter that was made to be like pancakes
– avocados that were made to be like chocolate pudding
– various twigs, berries and dust fashioned to be like a deluxe black forest cheesecake
Sidebar: I really don’t care what anyone else eats, and I refuse to become one of those “Does this bone marrow soup have the same ph balance as the ones consumed by our Paleolithic ancestors? Because if it doesn’t, then I can’t eat it” types. Balanced nutrition will be different for everybody, and it’s cool if you choose to become one of those people who can’t seem to stop talking about what they eat. Good luck getting invited to parties is all I’m saying.
Anyway, I’ve been at it for a month. The Levi’s still sit atop my closet shelf beside my Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs, and to be honest, they can stay there and collect more dust. Because it’s less about dem jeans and more about feeling damn good.
A list of positive changes thus far:
– quality of sleep. A steady six or seven hours and waking up feeling well rested
– a positive mental attitude. I’m not making my co-workers cry with this sharp tongue of mine anymore!
– more productive workdays. Time management is better, conflict resolution skills are on point, and this bitch is on fire!
– and this is happening:
Who even knows how long this will last? It’s just what I need right now. In fact, last week, I ran into a woman who works at a cupcake shop that I used to frequent (shout out to Prairie Girl Cupcakes!) and this happened:
Woman: Hey. I haven’t seen you in a while!
Me: Yeah, I know.
Woman: When are you coming by the shop again?
Me: I will see you in the next lifetime… when we are both cats.
I held back the tears and swallowed the lump in my throat because even as the words escaped my lips, I knew that they were hollow. And she looked at me, terrified, as she walked quickly to get as far away from me as possible.