I’m fixated on fall. It has me wrapped up in its coziness, warmth, and spice. The soups, the cranberry sauces, the brussels, apples, and the freaking GOURDS. What a weird word. It sounds like a body part. But, I love the gourds nonetheless. Fall is like the silk blanket of the seasons. I want it to wrap me up in its spiciness and stay hibernated there for months.
There’s a daily battle inside of me: a gremlin that tells me I should be lazy and the elegant angel that gently nudges me to do the things. Since no one tells me what to do but myself, this mini-war puts me in quite the scary conundrum.
Last week, I wrote about happiness and how my personal happiness wants work. My happiness boils down to doing what I need to do. Keyword: DO. I’m well aware of what this entails: I need to exercise, I need to write, I need to read, I need to eat well, I need to MOVE, I need to talk to humans besides my boyfriend, I need to have serious, detailed heart to hearts with my bests, I need to cook. In summary, I need to take care of myself. If I don’t take care of myself, things begin to go downhill at light speed.
(This post is long. Bare with me. I’ve included a synopsis of my past Whole30s.)
Why did we do it? A little back story.
This Whole30 was a necessary intervention for me. I was coming off of one year of new-relationship bliss and was (and still am) very much in love. But I had not felt heavier, more lethargic or unmotivated in years. I was depressed because my pants did not fit and also my pants did not fit because I was depressed. That correlation is a funny one. I became unproductive in what I knew I was capable of. I had lost my spark, my edge, and my desire for newness. My always thirsty and hungry self was “happy” just laying on the couch and eating chocolate dipped in almond butter when I came home from work. I couldn’t take it anymore because I felt so unlike the person I know I am and always was. I have a great life, so I have nothing to be sad about. So what was the culprit? Eating food that I know doesn’t work for me and drinking too much. It was so. much. fun. to do this, but one thing led to another and left me in the state described above.
Roast chickens and I go way back. First of all, I adore them. How cute are they with their little legs and motor-boat-y breasts? My only problem is that I tear into them WAY too fast, leaving their previously beautiful looking golden bodies appear like they were left alone with a coyote.
The first time I ever roasted one, I was trying to impress someone and got really complicated with a fancy recipe and I served the chicken upside down. So much for that. If someone told me how easy it was to make a delectable & impressive bird, then I would have NEVER gone through the fuss.
I feel kinda gross admitting this, but my favorite tuna salad was Subway’s. Have you had it? That creamy tuna spread with just a touch of acid is undeniably delicious. Most other tuna salads follow suit: mayo, celery, onion, maybe some lemon, maybe some pickle or other pop of acid. I love that classic variety, but there are other options.
By nature, I am an over-indulger. I used to believe that over-indulging equated happiness and frankly, I lived for it. Through TV binges, clothing, sale items, money, shoes, dates, and my favorite past-time, food binges. Going out to dinner knowing I could eat whatever and however much I wanted while glugging down delicious wine and cocktails was heaven on earth. It felt like this type of “letting go” meant I was free. In reality, it had me in chains.
I know I’m always saying simplicity is best and blah blah blah, but I am obsessed with condiments. Ooooobsessed. My fridge door is laden with them. I love ketchup and I don’t care how gross that makes me seem, ketchup is a amazing. When I’m hungover I just want piles of ketchup. Food is an afterthought, it just becomes the vehicle for its consumption.