This weekend, I cheated on Paleo. I ate some dark-chocolate-covered pomegranates (is that even technically a cheat?), a few French fries off the restaurant plates of little boys, and a sampling of graham crackers at a backyard bonfire (no marshmallows or Hershey’s chocolate, darn it—just the graham crackers).
Many health advocates advise an 80/20 approach to
deprivation clean eating, and some recommend allowing entire cheat days (gosh, that sounds fun!). For nearly a year, however, I have pretty much eaten 100% Paleo. Sure, I have lost balance a few times, but mostly, I have consumed lean meats, fruits, veggies, sweet potatoes, nuts (but not peanuts), eggs, almond butter, and coconut oil. My only real decadence has been homemade Paleo banana bread with dairy-free, nut-free, soy-free chocolate chips. I have been dedicated and strict because tummy troubles plagued me for a really long time, and I am convinced that my streamlined way of eating makes me feel better.
But I am human, and I long for treats, and, sadly, I think I can’t have them—like, ever—because after I stumbled off the wagon this weekend, I felt physically and mentally crummy. I still feel a tad bit crappy, actually. (Hey, it takes time to come off of a dark-chocolate-covered-pomegranate-French-fry-graham-cracker bender.) So now, I am practicing patience, which is so not easy for me. I am deep breathing and wishing away the rubber tire I feel wrapped around my middle. I am waiting for my pants to loosen to the point of comfort. I am sticking with my exercise routine even though I feel blah. And I am trying, trying, trying to be OK with the fact that I may never again cave to my cravings—or I will, and my body will revolt, and I will write this post all over again.
1. I do not want to feel this crummy again.
2. I do not want to write this post again.