That’s right. I’m hauling my fat ass onto this bandwagon.
It’s not to lose weight though. Sure, I’ll rejoice over dropped pounds. But the real reason for my Whole 30 is simple:
I write – a lot – not that you’d know it by what happens here. To be fair, my alter ego has been on a tear lately, writing lots of steamy romance. But it’s come with a cost. My wrist, elbow and now shoulder are always on fire.
My knees almost always hurt. My ankles and achilles tendons too. I have plantar facitis.
In short, I am a fucking mess.
It’s gotten to the point where I can barely function any more. I’ll try anything. I’ve done my research and this seems like it might help. So Art and I are going for it.
Goodbye sugar. Goodbye grains. Goodbye alcohol (I’ll miss you the most). Goodbye dairy.
If you’re reading this and mentally composing your comment, warning me of the dangers of Paleo and how your cousins sister-in-laws daughter Betty Sue went on a Whole 30 and DIED, don’t. Unfollow my blog, because I’ll be talking a lot about Whole 30 and Paleo and what’s working vs. what’s not.
I don’t want the negativity. I don’t care about how stupid you think Paleo is. I need support and positivity.
Lack of alcohol will make me cranky as fuck.
On the other hand, if you’ve completed a Whole 30 or are in the midst of one, I’d love to hear your experience. I’d love to commiserate with you. I’d also love to know I’m not the last person on earth to jump on the fad. Even though I probably am.
Here’s to being able to walk without crying.