I was so nervous to write this post, but I’ve got to come clean:
I quit Whole30 this week.
Here’s the thing, friends: That program is HARD. And very restrictive. And about four days into it, I found myself at a dinner party with no approved options except for dates and lettuce, and that was unacceptable when there was a delicious homemade gumbo sitting in front of me with cream in it that was wholesome and obviously more satisfying of a meal. So I ate it, and I vowed to be good for the rest of the month.
But then, a couple of days later, I found myself at an event where Chipotle was catered, and chicken was one of the protein options (the other was sofritas, a.k.a. tofu, which I knew was a no-go). So I ate the chicken, piled on a high heap of lettuce, salsa and guacamole, thinking I was being so good at this Whole30 thing. Then I find out later that day that, in fact, the chicken at Chipotle is not Whole30 compliant. Um, OK.
Add to that the fact that I was hungry all.the.time, I had this constant headache that wouldn’t quit, I knew there were more instances coming down the pipeline this month where I’d be faced with the possibility of needing to eat just lettuce for dinner to stay true to the plan, and it was all too much. The hangry-ness was the hardest part. I can’t handle that, you guys.
So by Tuesday night, two weeks into the program, my husband and I decided to quit. And I drank a glass of red wine to celebrate.