This almost feels like starvation on steroids.
And not because it’s intensely difficult to manage. Self-deprivation has damn near become a way of life for me… after all, I work a corporate job and just survived an entire football off-season.
But it’s hard to handle giving yourself something that you DON’T want (i.e. scoops of veggies, handfuls of nuts, random and varied cuts of meat), and forcing yourself to be content with that. A filet of fish with no rice is a cruel, cruel torture. A chicken breast next to a forest of broccoli crowns is lacking something. And it’s so tough not to indulge in the shit your mind really wants when you’re already forcing it to scarf down an array of things you kinda don’t.
I also find the feeling of being “full” on Paleo is much different from anything I’ve previously been subjected to. It’s less like a sense of accomplishment and more like a stern “okay, that’s enough” from all of your body systems at once. Similar to an annoyed father during a road trip. Or mediocre head with the occasional grazing of teeth.
On the other hand, energy levels seem to be reacting pretty positively. It’s become much easier to sustain a functional level of vigor throughout (most of) the day. A typical day for me usually involves no breakfast and the scant possibility of a trash ass lunch if, and ONLY if, I’ve starved myself to the point of full onset rage. Now with a light breakfast, a snack or two in between, and a modest lunch, I no longer feel myself hitting that wall (or the desk with my head).
Here’s to hoping that this rainy, dreary weekend doesn’t lead to an all-out raid of the junk food aisle at our neighborhood grocer… or a binge drinking fest that a frat row could be proud of. It’s way too early for setbacks.
Even if that setback is named Hennessy.