“You have to stay in shape. My grandmother, she started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She’s ninety-seven today and we don’t know where she is.” – Ellen DeGeneres
I recently experienced the joy that is the annual check-up at the doctor’s office. After sitting for some unknown period of time under a piece of paper thinner than the stuff I blow my nose with, my doctor entered the room and took a look at my chart. “Have you been exercising?”
I don’t know why she felt the need to ask as we both knew the answer to that question. I’d seen what number appeared on the scale minutes prior and though I have let my hair grow long since my last appointment and was wearing boots at the time, I’m pretty sure those two things combined didn’t weigh enough to fully account for the difference. But I could be wrong. My hair is quite thick after all.
“Yeah, well I kinda sorta stopped going to the gym.” My gym had upped their monthly fee from only an arm and a leg to the whole thing. Being fired by my personal trainer hadn’t helped either (some people are simply un-trainable). “But I regularly take the dog for walks and I do have to run after two boys.”
My doctor raised an eyebrow. Admittedly, I could have found another gym that charged less for a monthly membership, but I’d rationalized, not only would I save money, I had more time for writing this way. (The sacrifices I make for my art)! Besides, walking the solid mass of muscle and squirrel-lurcher-extraordinaire that is my dog, Her Royal Highness, often results in a full body workout.
My doctor put her pen down and made full eye contact. Never a good sign. “You know, after thirty, your metabolism slows down drastically.”
I grimaced. I’d passed that particular milestone … er … it doesn’t matter how long ago – just accept it happened. Okay?
My doctor didn’t have to say anything more. I knew what she meant. After a winter of excess, it was time to do some damage control. I was going to have to be mindful of what I ate again. In other words – may God have mercy on all my friends, family, and co-workers.
While I agree that lifestyle changes are more effective in the long-term, I decided to kickstart my rebooted effort with a thirty-day (or in this case thirty-one-day) challenge. I announced to the hubby that for the month of March, I would go grain-free, thereby forcing myself to eat more veggies, while still allowing me the occasional bit of sugar (and let’s be honest – a glass or two of wine).
To his credit, my hubby decided to take on a dietary challenge too, choosing to go the ketogenic route or keto for short.
I wasn’t familiar with the ketogenic diet at the time, but now, after a week into our individual challenges, I can say that I believe the butter and egg lobby groups got together to cook this one up and maybe the avocado group too as evidenced by the empty egg cartons that keep appearing on my countertop as if by magic and the wall-o-butter packages that now fill my fridge’s dairy compartment. From my perspective, it seems to be a lot of work (so many labels to read), but we are finding there is enough overlap between the two to keep each other honest.
So far, the kids haven’t noticed we’re doing anything different. They have homemade pizza. We have homemade pizza (albeit with a tapioca and cheese based crust which proved to be pretty yummy and crisper than the cauliflower kind I’d tried before). They have tacos. We have tacos. Okay, ours were more of a taco salad as the “super easy” zucchini tortillas I attempted to prepare for the adults proved to be more dip than a shell (that may have had something to do with the lack of eggs when it came time to make them – see above).
And is it working? One week in and I’m down two and a half pounds, while the hubby has dropped somewhere closer to six. I’d say he is an overachiever, but he can lose that much just from skipping a soda now and then. (Guys, seriously, that is so unfair).
But just as importantly I have yet to take my grain deprived frustrations out on an unsuspecting co-worker or loved one (at least, not that I’m aware of). So that’s a plus.
Will that continue to be the case, or will the news coming out of the city of oaks include a crazed woman demanding spaghetti? Will I soon be able to pass as Cookie Monster’s understudy? Or will the next several chapters of my current WIP include excessive references to cake? Only time will tell. I’m posting this to help me stay accountable. But one thing is for sure – a month from now, with any luck, I hope you’ll be seeing less of me.
Final food for thought (aka related reading)