Girls' trip to Nashville.
The truth is, I'd go anywhere with these two—but for a long weekend of good food and catching up in coffee shops, Nashville was the perfect city. (And if you couldn't tell by the photos, literally all we did was eat.)
OUR MUST TRY LIST:
- Hopsmith Tavern (for legit frozé and fatty apps).
- Cafe Roze (for a nourishing lunch + matcha).
- Barcelona Wine Bar (for amazing tapas).
- Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams (for dessert).
- The Mockingbird (for weekend brunch).
- Frothy Monkey (for hot apple cider and outdoor seating).
- Draper James (for some window shopping).
- Five Daughters Bakery (for paleo and vegan donuts).
- 5th & Taylor (for dinner).
- Acme Feed & Seed (for Sunday brunch + live music).
- Crema (for hipster-made coffee).
- Country Music Hall of Fame (for a fun history lesson).
- Caviar & Bananas (for a light meal or quick snack).
- Union Common (for a fancy cocktail or glass of wine).
Love everybody always.
But every time I've tried to spill my heart on the subject, the words fall flat. Even conversations with my best friends prove inconclusive and unsatisfying, my thoughts forming nothing more than a muddled mess of anxious frustration. Which is why Ally's email just about brought me to tears. The founder of Windrose Magazine (get your copy of Issue No. 2 here!) and my lovely friend sent out a newsletter a few weeks ago that had me speechless, except for one single thought: Finally, someone who gets it.
Immediately, I messaged Ally to ask if I could publish the contents of her email here on my own blog, because there's truly nothing I could say or write that, in my opinion, would resonate more deeply or have as big of an impact. She somehow flawlessly put down on paper what's been eating away at me for months, and I'm beyond happy to share this piece of perfection with you today. (Better late than never.)
"As long as we have stories to tell to each other, there is hope."
Author and priest Henri Nouwen wrote this, and that’s probably the only thing that I can anchor my hope into when it comes to looking at the injustices of the world these days. (That, and my go-to neighborhood taco spot with the words “Mexican Restaurant” lit up in neon on the facade).
Politics won’t save us. In the words of the great lyricist Matty Healy (yes, The 1975 is GREAT), “Modernity has failed us.” This is unsurprising: History is simply a cyclical account of the rise and fall of great nations—“modernity” to those who lived it.
“The system is broken,” I like to say on repeat, especially when it comes to things like health insurance because HELLO my insurance friggin’ wouldn’t pay for my $800+ prescription meds for WEEKS because of a clerical error on Walgreen’s part. (Very cool!!!!!!) All systems are broken, imperfect; they can do their best to allow us to live freely, but they cannot, no matter what, save us.
Don’t paint me as a “let’s just go live off the grid among the wolves and chipmunks” advocate just yet. Systems are important for order; this isn’t a rally cry to take up pitchforks and torches and proclaim anarchy. We should still get our “I Voted” stickers; we should still call our senators; we should still work actively within our institutions to demand justice. These are good, important, necessary things that we are called to do. But if we seek absolute safety in our systems, we will be disappointed.
Systems are not strong enough to hold our hope.
I’ve written a lot about love over the last year, mainly because if 2018 has taught me anything (and it has taught me a whole hella lot, let me tell you WHAT), it’s that no matter what I do, if I don’t have love, “I am nothing.”
Love is not the watery butterfly feelings and bluebirds singing narrative that pop culture has claimed it to be. “Love is a verb,” sings John Mayer in a song that I don’t particularly care for, but it’s true: love is action, not feeling. Based on how long it’s been since I’ve had a meal or a good night’s sleep, I can easily feel lots of feelings that are nowhere close to love, but what matters in those moments are my actions. I still need to offer the stranger water when they ask for it, answer the phone when a friend calls, reach out to apologize when I know I’ve hurt someone. I fail at this, often.
I’ve been in the Intro Course to Love for like, 5 years now, and I’m no expert on how to actually live it out as action other than to say that the entirety of life is a moot point without it. Ask my roommate Chelsey how many times I’ve laid on the floor in our apartment whining to her about how much I DO NOT want to be love to people in my life, especially when there’s tension or hurt present, and she would have to pause and think about it before answering because it’s been too many times.
Love is messy and often it doesn’t feel that great and always there will be sacrifice. As I’ve said before, this is annoying to me, but them’s just the facts.
If systems won’t save us, and love is way hard, then what?
“All that is holding us together is stories and compassion,” said author Wendell Barry, and there’s the truth: Change can, and will, come through story.
We no longer live in a time of even discourse (read: debates that are actually well-reasoned on both sides), but that doesn’t mean hearts can’t be transformed into love—love for the people who are easy to love and love for the people who annoy the hell out of you and love for the neighbor across the street whose lawn is covered with signs promoting a political candidate that you can’t stand. And maybe even love in a “hey, you’re a human being just like me” sense for that political candidate you can’t stand, too. (Again, don’t look to me to be the Valedictorian example of this—I’m just putting my face up to the glass to peer into the hard truth of love and cringing a bit like the rest of us.)
But how are hearts transformed into love? Through story.
Hannah Brencher wrote in her book If You Find This Letter, “The professor taught with confidence that books change you. They mess up your insides. They make you drool over the prospect of being a better human and a better lover and a better friend. They pull at your stomach and leave you raw and open and naked. Books can straight up mangle you and sometimes it’s better if you let them do their work.” (Related: I was able to interview Hannah for Windrose issue no. 2!) The same is true of storytelling in all forms—books, poetry, art, music, even a conversation between two people both committed to listening to one another.
“Cool, Ally, but where’s the practical advice in this?” We make the decision to be open to the stories of others. We then make the same decision again to remain open as we listen to someone’s story, even the ones that make us tense and uncomfortable and bumper car their way into our personal views—whether it’s no-filters-whatsoever Aunt Martha at Thanksgiving or that co-worker that you struggle to find anything in common with or that neighbor you see when you walk your dog in the morning or even a stranger on the Internet.
You listen and you stay open to letting story do its heart-changing work in you. Little by little, story changes you to love—the real kind.
Systems cannot save us. Stories can. Love will.
-- Ally
Windrose Co-Founder & Editor
Politics won’t save us. In the words of the great lyricist Matty Healy (yes, The 1975 is GREAT), “Modernity has failed us.” This is unsurprising: History is simply a cyclical account of the rise and fall of great nations—“modernity” to those who lived it.
“The system is broken,” I like to say on repeat, especially when it comes to things like health insurance because HELLO my insurance friggin’ wouldn’t pay for my $800+ prescription meds for WEEKS because of a clerical error on Walgreen’s part. (Very cool!!!!!!) All systems are broken, imperfect; they can do their best to allow us to live freely, but they cannot, no matter what, save us.
Don’t paint me as a “let’s just go live off the grid among the wolves and chipmunks” advocate just yet. Systems are important for order; this isn’t a rally cry to take up pitchforks and torches and proclaim anarchy. We should still get our “I Voted” stickers; we should still call our senators; we should still work actively within our institutions to demand justice. These are good, important, necessary things that we are called to do. But if we seek absolute safety in our systems, we will be disappointed.
Systems are not strong enough to hold our hope.
I’ve written a lot about love over the last year, mainly because if 2018 has taught me anything (and it has taught me a whole hella lot, let me tell you WHAT), it’s that no matter what I do, if I don’t have love, “I am nothing.”
Love is not the watery butterfly feelings and bluebirds singing narrative that pop culture has claimed it to be. “Love is a verb,” sings John Mayer in a song that I don’t particularly care for, but it’s true: love is action, not feeling. Based on how long it’s been since I’ve had a meal or a good night’s sleep, I can easily feel lots of feelings that are nowhere close to love, but what matters in those moments are my actions. I still need to offer the stranger water when they ask for it, answer the phone when a friend calls, reach out to apologize when I know I’ve hurt someone. I fail at this, often.
I’ve been in the Intro Course to Love for like, 5 years now, and I’m no expert on how to actually live it out as action other than to say that the entirety of life is a moot point without it. Ask my roommate Chelsey how many times I’ve laid on the floor in our apartment whining to her about how much I DO NOT want to be love to people in my life, especially when there’s tension or hurt present, and she would have to pause and think about it before answering because it’s been too many times.
Love is messy and often it doesn’t feel that great and always there will be sacrifice. As I’ve said before, this is annoying to me, but them’s just the facts.
If systems won’t save us, and love is way hard, then what?
“All that is holding us together is stories and compassion,” said author Wendell Barry, and there’s the truth: Change can, and will, come through story.
We no longer live in a time of even discourse (read: debates that are actually well-reasoned on both sides), but that doesn’t mean hearts can’t be transformed into love—love for the people who are easy to love and love for the people who annoy the hell out of you and love for the neighbor across the street whose lawn is covered with signs promoting a political candidate that you can’t stand. And maybe even love in a “hey, you’re a human being just like me” sense for that political candidate you can’t stand, too. (Again, don’t look to me to be the Valedictorian example of this—I’m just putting my face up to the glass to peer into the hard truth of love and cringing a bit like the rest of us.)
But how are hearts transformed into love? Through story.
Hannah Brencher wrote in her book If You Find This Letter, “The professor taught with confidence that books change you. They mess up your insides. They make you drool over the prospect of being a better human and a better lover and a better friend. They pull at your stomach and leave you raw and open and naked. Books can straight up mangle you and sometimes it’s better if you let them do their work.” (Related: I was able to interview Hannah for Windrose issue no. 2!) The same is true of storytelling in all forms—books, poetry, art, music, even a conversation between two people both committed to listening to one another.
“Cool, Ally, but where’s the practical advice in this?” We make the decision to be open to the stories of others. We then make the same decision again to remain open as we listen to someone’s story, even the ones that make us tense and uncomfortable and bumper car their way into our personal views—whether it’s no-filters-whatsoever Aunt Martha at Thanksgiving or that co-worker that you struggle to find anything in common with or that neighbor you see when you walk your dog in the morning or even a stranger on the Internet.
You listen and you stay open to letting story do its heart-changing work in you. Little by little, story changes you to love—the real kind.
Systems cannot save us. Stories can. Love will.
-- Ally
Windrose Co-Founder & Editor
27.
A week later, on a walk around the block to get out of my head, it finally hit me. Twenty-seven. The age you were. The age you'll always be.
And I started crying. Softly at first, and then uncontrollably, as I thought about the years that have passed without you.
You died when I was 19, an age I know now was too young to truly comprehend what your absence would mean for the rest of my life. It didn't fully dawn on me then that you would never walk down the aisle at my wedding, or scare my children with your ghost stories, or offer up your honest-to-God opinion when I confided in you anything at all. You wouldn't be there when I needed you at 20 or 25 or 30—which, I'd come to learn, would be the years I'd need you most.
You fought tirelessly your entire life, and when you finally let go, I felt relieved that you were no longer suffering. But almost eight years later, the sadness that lingers from your not being here is somehow stronger, heavier than the day I lost you.
The truth is, I could've used all of that these past few years. As I grow older, there are just some things I don't want to talk about with anyone else, and were you still here, I know you'd pour me a large glass of wine (or vodka, let's be real), listen intently to every doubt and fear going 'round and 'round in my overactive brain, and then teasingly tell me to stop being so dramatic—because life's too short to sweat the small stuff.
But we'll never have those conversations, and that kills me.
You left this world only a week after you turned 27, your golden birthday. It's strange to think that we're now the same age, and I can't help but wonder—as strong and fearless as you were—why my life will go on when yours was drastically cut short. I feel guilty for that, to be honest. And yet, at 27, I feel inexplicably closer to you now, too. Which in and of itself might be worth the aching loneliness of wondering what if.
Fall musings.
Drinking: "Peach Tranquility" tea.
Loving: my new espresso machine. (I've seriously been wanting one for years!) Thanks, Mom and Dad!
Reading: I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid, to get in the Halloween spirit.
Stressing over: my growing health issues (that relate to this). It can be so frustrating to work so hard and not see any progress, but I'm really trying to let go and give it up to God.
Thankful for: cold weather in October, and our fireplace.
Watching: the final season of Downton Abbey. Who else is stoked about the movie?!
Learning: that pain is simply part of the process on this side of Heaven; that there's beauty in life's struggles, and none of us are alone in our suffering. How we choose to live with the pain—to let it defeat us or to rise above it—is 100% up to us.
And a little bonus fun fact: Our Greece trip is BOOKED! Santorini, here we (finally) come. I'm watching Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants tonight to celebrate.
Have a warm Tuesday!
What I learned from my elimination diet.
If you haven't read my first post in this series, now's your chance!
Reintroduction
I'm just going to admit right off the bat: the reintroduction phase of my elimination diet didn't go quite as seamlessly as I had planned. My FOMO was to blame for that, of course; by Day 22, I was itching to eat all of my old favorite foods—and I wasn't actively avoiding situations that made it easy to indulge. (Like Day 27 in Austin, for example, when I ate a pound of fried chicken to make up for lost time.) However, I managed to resist stuffing my face with junk for the first five days after the 21-day diet, during which I was able to rule out some food sensitivities.I started by reintroducing my favorite kinds of nuts, one at a time (because there's no snack that I love more). Each morning on an empty stomach, I'd have a spoonful of nut butter and observe specific reactions. Sadly, peanuts and sesame seeds caused the same reaction that watermelon, banana, and cucumber did previously: hot neck and ears, accompanied by an angry headache. (Apparently, this is my body's way of crying for help.) I noticed similar symptoms with macadamia nuts—ugh—but pecans, walnuts, almonds, and cashews appeared to be a-okay. Phew.
The second thing I reintroduced was eggs, on the morning of Day 25. No noticeable reaction, thank goodness. (How does one live without eggs?) By that evening, I was feeling pretty confident, so I tried a few bites of greek yogurt right before dinner. This may have been just a coincidence, but not too long after, I started experiencing some cramping in the upper part of my stomach. The next morning, I drank a cup of raw milk with breakfast just to make sure, and what happened half an hour later made it very obvious that cow dairy is a no-go for this belly! I'll save you the details. Weirdly enough, sheep and goat dairy didn't appear to cause any intestinal distress.
Beef is another food that didn't sit well with me, though, made evident by the horrible headache and inflamed ears that struck only minutes after snacking on a pack of Epic beef liver bites. *Tear* Who would've thought?
I saved wheat for last, convinced that it would kill me. I'm not sure why I was nervous about it, other than the fact that gluten is more demonized than Trump these days. But to my surprise, when I ate two giant slices of homemade whole wheat pita on Day 26, nothing happened. Over the course of the following week, I kept an eye on my bread consumption, waiting anxiously for my body to finally recognize the "poisonous" protein and react with a vengeance. But alas, gluten doesn't seem to bother me at all. GIVE ME ALL THE SOURDOUGH.
In all honesty, I don't really remember reintroducing pork or shellfish, but I've eaten both on numerous occasions since then and haven't noticed anything out of the norm. As I said before, I tackled this phase sort of impatiently, and as a result wasn't as thorough as I probably should have been. I will say, though, sugar and caffeine are definitely issues for me, as just recently, I started noticing heart palpitations combined with an overall feeling of weirdness after eating anything sweet or caffeinated. So long, coffee. I will miss you dearly.
Alcohol, on the other hand, still makes me feel on top of the world (see ya, anxiety!). So wine can stay—in moderate amounts, of course. And preferably organic.
In Conclusion
So, was it worth it? Obviously, I'm glad I attempted the diet and I'm proud of myself for doing as well as I did. But to be real, I'm probably not gonna do anything like it again for a good long time, because #YOLO. That said, it's good to have an idea of what foods are causing underlying inflammation in my body. Chronic inflammation = stress, and ain't nobody got time for that.To recap, the last month has taught me to stay the hell away from:
+ peanuts
+ sesame seeds
+ cow dairy
+ beef
+ cucumber
+ watermelon
+ sugar
+ caffeine
+ macadamia nuts
+ oats
+ banana
+ dates
And if I know what's good for me, I will. For now.
How to rock an elimination diet like a boss.
Per my doctor's orders, I will be embarking on a 21-day elimination diet starting Monday, July 23rd, and I couldn't be more
So, then, why did I agree to this?
First, a little background: I've struggled with hormonal imbalances in the form of acne, hirsutism, fatigue, and irregular periods since I was in high school. Once I figured out the root cause of all of these pesky symptoms, I made it my personal mission to heal myself naturally—with good quality foods, regular exercise, and Alisa Vitti's famous cycle-syncing method. While I've seen a lot of improvements in the past couple years, I'm still not confident that I'm where I need to be in order to maintain a healthy pregnancy (which is a problem, considering Scott and I are hoping to start a family in the near future). I finally decided that enough was enough, and in February, I met with a functional medicine practitioner here in Frisco to address the underlying issues affecting my fertility.
So far, after many tests, it's looking like chronic stress may have a lot to do with it. But stress can come from anywhere—a demanding job, a devastating loss, low self esteem, excess caffeine, or even hidden food intolerances. If I want to kick my hormones into gear and give my body a fighting chance to conceive naturally, I have to eliminate as many stressors as possible, starting with what I can most easily control. Yep, you guessed it: my diet! That's where the dreaded elimination diet comes in. After 21 days of cutting out every common food allergen, I'll be able to pinpoint exactly which foods are causing distress through the reintroduction phase (more on this later). Unfortunately, it's usually the everyday staples in our diet that tend to become a problem for our immune systems over time, which could mean that chocolate and nuts are going to show up as red flags for me. We shall see!
I'll let you in on a shameful secret: This is my THIRD attempt at this diet, just in the last month and a half. (The title of this post is purely for self-motivational purposes.)
The Rules
For 21 days, I'm not supposed to touch:+ alcohol
+ caffeine
+ corn
+ beef, pork, or processed meats
+ shellfish
+ soy
+ dairy (not including ghee)
+ eggs
+ gluten
+ nuts
+ all added sugars & sugar substitutes (with the exception of stevia and erythritol, in small amounts)
Yeah, this is going to suck. But I'm determined to do it to the best of my ability, which is why I've once again taken to the blog. Writing my goals down usually helps me stick to them.
So, here we go!
Day One
- I start on the Monday after a big weekend spent hosting the siblings, so my fridge is full of noncompliant junk food and almost nothing else. (Way to be prepared, Emily.) I grab some fresh fruit and coconut butter for breakfast, pack a venison Epic bar for lunch, and begrudgingly make my way to the clinic without caffeine. As you can imagine, I'm starving by 10am. I munch on some raw carrots and try to distract myself with work.
- Other than constant yawning, I surprisingly feel okay. Lighter. After three full days of sugar and alcohol, my body definitely needs this reset.
- Thanks to my wonderful husband, dinner is a delicious rotisserie chicken and half of a sweet potato saturated in ghee. I fall into bed early, exhausted. Must remember to get groceries tomorrow!
Day Two
- I wake up exhausted after nine and a half hours of sleep and force myself to get to an 8:30am yoga class. I'm not used to exercising on an empty stomach, and I struggle my way through each vinyasa.
- Immediately upon arriving home, I blend up a protein-and-fat-filled smoothie to begin my day. (Go-to recipe: frozen blueberries, frozen cucumber/cauliflower/green peas/zucchini or whatever frozen veggie I have on hand, Vital Proteins collagen beauty greens, hemp seeds, raw greens, 1/4 avocado, cinnamon, and filtered water.) It's satisfying enough, but I miss the nutty taste and crunch of granola swirled in. Unsweetened coconut flakes will have to do.
- I feel a tickle in my throat, and lethargy still follows me around like a sad puppy dog. Am I getting sick or already experiencing detox symptoms?
- Since I lack the energy to grocery shop (again), lunch is a can of olive oil soaked sardines and dinner is the same as last night (plus sautéed spinach). If I don't meal plan soon, I'm going to end up failing or starving, neither of which is an option.
Day Three
- My mood is in the dumps today. I lack the motivation to do anything productive, and a general sense of dread is beginning to seep in. I know that this is just my brain's way of crying out for stimulants, but this revelation makes it no less depressing. It also makes me realize how often I turn to food and drinks when I'm feeling less than chipper. Now I'm forced to actually sit with my feelings.
- To cheer myself up, I justify a trip to Central Market. Finally, some fresh veggies!
- Dinner is wild-caught salmon, riced broccoli, and roasted zucchini.
Day Four
- Is kombucha allowed on this diet? I don't even know, but I'm drinking it. Probiotics!
- Easiest meal ever: Pick a protein (ground lamb), a leafy green (baby kale), a fat (avocado) and a starch (black beans). Coat everything in homemade taco seasoning, mix it all together, and you've got yourself one healthified burrito bowl.
Day Five
- Mmkay, I'm getting bored with my meal/snack options. Lots of poultry, veggies, avocado, and coconut products. (I'm not very creative in the kitchen.) This doesn't bode well for the next 16 days.
- I think I may be allergic to watermelon. Anyone else's ears and neck get fiery hot when they eat it on an empty stomach? That's new.
- Scott and I went to a sushi restaurant tonight because I was dying to eat something other than chicken. I ordered raw tuna sashimi and an eel roll, which unfortunately came covered with eel sauce. I looked up the ingredients when I got home, and what do you know, it's made of soy and sugar! So much for bringing my own coconut aminos. Oh well, I refuse to start over because of a little eel sauce. Upwards and onwards!
Day Seven
- WE'VE MADE IT THROUGH WEEK ONE, PEOPLE. And life is looking up. Yesterday Scott's parents spent the day helping us with yard work (#homeowners), so we wanted to take them out for dinner to thank them. We ended up going to a local Tex Mex joint, and the food was incredible. Scott and I split an order of chicken fajitas, and I got a side of grilled veggies. Just look at that spread! (No, I didn't have any tortillas, chips, cheese, or sour cream. But the rest was fantastic.)
- I created a Pinterest board for inspiration. Hopefully this will help me tackle the next two weeks.
Day Nine
- Thank God for this ice cream. It might not be 100% "clean" but it sure is delicious.
- Confession: I almost caved and bought a coffee yesterday. Almost. Life is just not the same without the stuff.
- Only 12 more days to go! I got dis.
Day Eleven
- So I'm officially sick. I woke up with a sore throat yesterday, and today it's a full blown cold. Bring on the bone broth. I find it interesting that my immunity is down even when I'm practically living on meat, fish, fruit, and veggies. Sigh.
- In all honesty, though, I'm kind of getting the hang of this diet. It still feels limiting, and I haven't been 100% perfect (a bite of dark chocolate here and there), but for the most part, I haven't slipped up in a major way. Hurrah!
- Sprouts' freshly cooked dark meat turkey is the bomb. Although I'm sort of wondering if they secretly use nasty ingredients like MSG and soybean oil in the marinade...
Day Thirteen
- It's been surprisingly easy to eat out on this diet, but one thing I can never order is a salad! Even the "healthiest" ones come chock-full of cheese, nuts, and sugary dressing—so I usually make my own with Primal Kitchen's avocado oil vinaigrette from Kroger. Delish!
Day Fifteen
- And just like that, Week Two is done.
- I survived my first big social outing yesterday. Scott and I went out on the lake with his family, and while everyone else feasted on sandwiches and chips/cookies/nuts, I stayed fueled with veggies, hummus, fresh fruit, plantain chips, cassava flour tortilla chips, venison bites, and sparkling water. Carb heavy, but not altogether unhealthy. Sidenote: A good book can ward off junk food cravings. I'm currently reading The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah, and I'm hooked.
Day Seventeen
- Welp, I've finally given in to my caffeine addiction. On Monday, my coworkers requested a coffee run, and I just couldn't say no to the delicious nitro cold brew calling my name at Summermoon. I know, I know. I should have resisted! But for a girl who's about a step away from the finish line, I'm finding it hard to care this week.
- For my mother-in-law's 60th birthday on Tuesday, we had dinner at a famous fried chicken joint in town. I did okay by ordering hickory smoked chicken and green beans but for the first time in two weeks, while everyone else was chomping down on buttered biscuits and fried chicken, I felt downright DEPRIVED. If it wasn't for Scott's encouragement, I would've thrown in the towel then and there.
Day Eighteen
- I ate leftover smoked chicken for lunch today, and I'm experiencing some major brain fog. Suspicious.
- A great low-sugar dessert I've been loving lately: sunflower seed butter, vanilla ghee, cinnamon, and coconut flakes on coconut tortilla from Thrive Market {full disclosure: that's an affiliate link}. It's not chocolate, but it does the trick.
Day Nineteen
- It's Friday night and a glass of wine sounds so good right now. Must. Resist.
- So far, I've figured out that I'm mildly allergic to watermelon, cucumber, and banana. Turns out, this isn't uncommon for those with a ragweed allergy. (According to my allergy test, that's me!) Coffee also makes me feel kind of weird, but I already knew this. I'll have to wait until the reintroduction phase (Day 22) to figure out what else my body hates.
- Our fridge is practically empty, so dinner tonight is red lentil pasta with chicken sausage from the farmers' market, sprinkled with sautéed greens and nutritional yeast. Yum.
Day Twenty
- I'm so close to food freedom that I can almost taste it. Actually, I can literally taste it. I snuck a slice of bacon from Scott's breakfast. Whoops.
- In other news, my heart was racing after my morning oatmeal (a common sign of altered immune response). And this isn't the first time that's happened after consuming a bowl of oats. Whyyy.
- We went out with friends last night to a gastropub, and while my dinner was compliant (cedar plank salmon, jasmine rice, and grilled veggies), I might have celebrated the eve of Day 21 with a pint of cider. And then a glass (or two) of "paleo" wine {another affiliate link}. Whatevs, I'm over it.
Day Twenty-One
- I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M HERE. The real fun doesn't start until tomorrow, but at least I've made it this far!
- On the menu today is another hearty smoothie bowl, split pea soup, and shredded chicken salad.
To Recap
Guys. Call me a wimp, but that was not at all easy for this girl. Here's a rundown of how I did!
+ Cheats: Coffee/chocolate (on several occasions), sugar (minimal), bacon, soy (damn eel sauce), alcohol (once—worth it).
+ Potential allergies: watermelon, bananas, cucumber, and oats.
+ Physical changes: Honestly, nixing certain food groups didn't make me feel any healthier overall. In fact, to compensate for what I was giving up (eggs, red meat, nuts, shellfish, dark chocolate), I found myself filling my plate with a lot more carbs than I normally would. Beans, root veggies, gluten-free grains, and fruit became staples in my diet, which may or may not have been the best thing for my fragile blood sugar. It also didn't help that for almost two out of the three weeks, I took a break from exercising as a result of my cold. However, I am interested to see if the reintroduction phase reveals any more allergies. Up first: eggs and nuts, two of the toughest foods for me to live without.
As happy as I am to reach Day 21, this journey isn't over, folks! Far from it, actually. Stay tuned for Part II to find out what discoveries (if any) will result from the next few weeks!
Retreat to Nassau.
Scott and I weren't planning on taking a big trip this year (on account of my being a student again), but when his company asked him to work their leadership conference in the Bahamas during the same week of my "spring break," we thanked our lucky stars and booked our flights.
We didn't do a whole lot, thank goodness. For five days, we ate, drank, read, sunbathed, swam, and slept—on one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen. And that's exactly what we both needed. Rest and relaxation at its finest.
Honestly, I could have stayed another week. School has been gettin' tough, and I might have had a mini meltdown on the last day of my in-class workshop only 12 hours before my flight. (Tears were involved, my friends.)
Can we just be real for a second? Every month, there's a span of about four or five days during which I'm suddenly and severely high strung—like, borderline manic-depressive—and all I want to do is curl up with a blanket and some tea and watch Bridget Jones's Diary on repeat. (Hormones can be serious bitches, you guys.) For women (and men!) who aren't aware, it's called the luteal phase (also known as the premenstrual phase) and it absolutely sucks the life out of me. TMI?
In all seriousness, though, as worried as I was, the weekend was a rewarding and adrenaline-pumping experience... that left me completely exhausted by Sunday evening. And so very thankful for an escape come Monday morning.
All that to say, we didn't do anything particularly exciting in the Bahamas: We didn't swim with dolphins or rent jet skis or even attend karaoke night at our resort (10pm was much too late for this married couple). We probably won't look back at our trip to Nassau someday and think nostalgic thoughts like we already do with this one, or this one. But we were blissfully present in the doing nothing, and I'd do it all over again if given the chance.
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