DAY SIX

Only two more days to go! Today was actually the first day that I felt better. Not completely whole, but okay. My headache was finally subsiding, the pain in my legs was slowly leaving my body; I was almost myself. Now if I could only snag a caramel macchiato, my world would be spinning in a sane universe. And really, how could I feel bad? The day was golden, glittering and clear. I have terrific friends and an awesome family. My little girl is miraculous. My boyfriend rocks. I live in a place that people dream about visiting. I needed to put it all into a big box of perspective.

Throughout the day I didn’t crave any cooked food like I did the other days. I felt fine just consuming salad and fruit. And I wasn’t terribly hungry, either. I just snacked all day. After my last meal, I topped it off with apple slices spread with peanut butter and it was very satisfying. Hopefully my last day will be equally as agreeable because since I began this diet, I have been evaluating my eating habits. I have especially been taking account of the emotions associated with how and what I eat. I don’t want to wax poetic about it until I am completely finished with the experience, but if anything, that will be my biggest lesson.

DAY FIVE

This diet has been improperly named. It should not be called the “raw food diet”; instead it should be named the I-want-to-shriek-at-my-boyfriend diet or the I-give-nasty-looks-to-anyone-holding-a-coffee-cup diet. I am irritated. I had to go food shopping today because, incredibly, I have eaten the entire heap of bananas, apples, oranges, lettuce, asparagus, green beans, spinach, zucchini, avocados, broccoli and tomatoes that I bought just last week. It is amazing. How could I eat so much fresh, healthy food and still feel so crappy? By the end of the day, Daniel was brave enough to tell me never to go on one of these “crazy” diets again. I had to give him a mental high-five even though my eyes were spitting fire at him. Wow. My behavior was that bad? I assessed my mood: my mouth was in a perpetual frown, I was lethargic and listless. My head still hurt and my legs still ached. Even peanut butter couldn’t cheer me up.

For dinner, Daniel was craving a hamburger so we drove to one of the local spots. He opened the glass door and I inhaled deeply. The aroma of oily french fries and juicy meat was intoxicating. He ordered one of those burgers where the grease drips down your smiling face and you need ten-thousand napkins to mop it up. I was in a complete state of jealous agitation. I will have to say that it is a good thing I am so stubborn because I was ready to lick the grease off the formica table. There was no dignity left. But! Lucky for me, I AM obstinate to a fault. I held on. Strong. Determined. Cantankerous. Like a mule.

DAY FOUR—I Think I Cheated!!

On Wednesday I woke up early to take Kaileigh to school and then take my mom for her weekly grocery shopping at Albertson’s. After I rolled out of bed, I noticed it. I had a dull ache running down both of my legs. It felt like all the toxins in my body were bouncing off my shin bones, battling to get out. Ugh. This to go along with the never-ending beating in my head. Throughout the morning I felt distracted, grumpy. I couldn’t focus for any length of time. As my mom and I were in the check-out lane chatting with the bagger, I noticed the guy in line right behind us. He stared at me blankly until we made eye contact. With a lopsided nod, he greeted me. I could smell the whisky seeping from his skin. His only purchase was a bottle of Wild Turkey. It was ten-thirty in the morning. I hurried my mom out of the store disturbed.


When I arrived home in the afternoon, I should have gone straight to the kitchen to bake the butternut squash, steam the asparagus and cook the pot roast for my mom. She needed it to each be pureed by the evening for dinner. But instead, my mind tilting, I crashed into my bed and wasn’t revived until hours later. I woke up serious. Debating. Maybe the drunk in the grocery store was my parallel—addicted to food, temperamental and sullen. Maybe the intention of this diet was to give me some clarity in my life. Find out what is truly important.

Daniel came home in the evening with a jar of peanut butter and some vegetables. Eureka. I slipped my index finger into the inside rim of the container and tasted the creamy nuttiness. That was it! My discovery. I think I heard the angels singing. I scooped it onto fat sticks of celery, apple slices, whole bananas—heck, I was spooning it out of the jar straight onto my tongue. Technically, I could eat nuts and seeds on this diet, but I wouldn’t want to be confronted by a purist. I don’t think peanut butter fit into the slender dress of the raw food diet, but at that point I was starting to lose it. Peanut butter was saving me from a mad-hatter tea party of French espresso and IN-N-OUT, animal style.

DAY THREE

This day undoubtedly was the worst day ever. Kaileigh and I got up early to go to school; she was going on a field trip with her class to Legoland and I had volunteered to go along. I made her a big breakfast: scrambled eggs, sausage, toast and orange juice while I had a banana and some tea. My headache had not dissipated since the day before so I was gearing up for a crazy day. We arrived at eight in the morning to fifty 2nd graders hopping around, jumping out of their skin, waiting for the bus. Bravo to all the teachers for organizing this event and being fearless enough to do it. As a parent, I imagine I stood there in awe of the enterprise.

I knew that the minute we parked on that big blanket of asphalt in front of Legoland that I was in disastrous need of caffeine. My head was exploding. It was warming up, too, the sunshine beating down on my naked arms felt like fire. We were assigned ten kids between four of us adults, five girls and five boys. Between the parents prattle and the kids screaming, I felt like I was on the rollercoaster to hell—with no stewardess in sight. At one point, in line for the Tower of Power ride, I stood there reeling, almost as if I were not in my body at all, but floating above it. I was in shock, maybe. Shock from not having an iced latte in my hand. Just the sight of a Starbucks that morning made me want to openly weep. I was about to completely unravel when a distant voice announced, “lunchtime!” and my nerves softened. That is, until I remembered the broccoli, tomatoes and carrots that awaited me in my brown paper bag. I was tempted to snag the little girl’s lunch next to me: egg salad sandwich, salt and vinegar potato chips, tapioca pudding and oreo cookies with milk. Dang.

The day stretched out for miles ahead of me—two hours ticked by so languidly it was as if I could feel each minute drip down my drumming head. The heat robbed my skin of any moisture and the kids dangled from my arms like I was a human monkey bar. I had to fain a full bladder just so I could escape into the cool dark bathroom, lock myself in a stall and have some alone time. Breath deeply. Splash cold water on my face.

By three o’clock in the afternoon, I was done. My intolerance had reached new levels to the point that some of the mothers looked at me sorrowfully and asked me if they could buy me a coffee. I must have been complaining. I saw it on their faces. Actually, it was probably better that I told them about my raw food diet project so I could keep myself accountable. Because at that moment I would have scratched somebody’s eyes out for a Starbucks iced tall double-shot. But I am not a quitter! No!

But then something really strange happened. We packed into the car to head home—an hour and a half drive up the 5 and 405 freeways in traffic—when I started to feel physically sick. Thank god I wasn’t driving. I sat up front and urged the mother who was driving to keep talking because every inch of that highway felt worse. My head was spinning, I broke out into a cold sweat, and my stomach was playing a mean game of hopscotch. I didn’t know if I was going to make it. As droplets formed on my forehead and a watercourse ran between my shoulder blades, I felt myself faintly saying, “Can you pull over to the side of the road so I can throw up in that bush?” But I only said it in my mind. I held on, sometimes quite literally. By the time we pulled into the driveway, I barely made it to my bed before passing out. After a little while, Kaileigh came in and snuggled up next to me, curled her little hand into mine and said, “I’m tired, mama.” That’s the last thing I remembered.

DAY TWO

I think by the second day I had resigned myself to the suffering of my condition because I seemed to breeze right through most of it. In the morning I took my mom and Kaileigh to my sister’s house for a visit. Over macadamia nut coffee and bagels spread with whipped cream cheese, they chatted; I sat in a corner and salivated. But, after two oranges and a banana, with a cup of hot herbal tea in my hand, I felt a bit less restless. I thought I was over the hump. Lunch was equally fine—a huge salad with avocados, tomatoes and balsamic vinegar dressing. The day outside was warm and inviting. I drove Kaileigh to her BFF’s house for a play date, and I sat on the balcony in the sun, writing, for the rest of the afternoon.

It wasn’t until dinner rolled around that the torture began again in earnest. We went to a friend’s house and even though we took a relaxing walk to the bay while the kids played in the grass, my slight headache that had been percolating all day burst at the seams and flooded my brain. Oh my head throbbed and burned, like someone tapped a tiny hammer against my forehead, which seemed completely ridiculous because I had cut coffee out of my diet before without this strong of a consequence. I never remember my head hurting this badly. The beef lasagna and chocolate cake that Pam made for dinner didn’t help, either. Just the smell of the cake baking and filling the kitchen was enough for me to send this diet packing. But I stayed strong! No giving in! Everyone had two slices of cake while I stood watching them, their faces smeared with chocolate. Man, my willpower has never endured so much. I think I am ready for a triathlon or maybe a jog through the Mongolian tundra. On to the next day!

DAY ONE

Okay, let me tell you about day one of this diet. It was not pretty. I woke up feeling great—a beautiful California day, true blue sky and a huge sun shining. The birds chirped and the breeze was fresh and salty. It was Sunday so I had slept in and on top of that, it was also Valentine’s Day so I was basking in the love. With a sleepy grin on my face I shuffled into the kitchen, only to stand there in horror at the coffeemaker. No coffee. I am not to consume any coffee. Crap. It’s amazing how food and drink can elevate or depress our mood just with a snap-of-the-finger realization. Because at that instant, like a slap in the face, I felt like poop at the thought of not drinking a cup of silky joe, with a swirl of hazelnut creamer. So, I had to break myself out of it. “I’m okay, I’m good!” I lied to myself as I filled the tea kettle with water and placed it on the stove. With my hot water and lemon securely in my hand, I sat on the couch and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. To my further shock, Daniel strolled into the kitchen, ground the coffee beans, poured the water into the maker, and flipped the switch. As I got up to grab an orange from the fridge, he rummaged through it to take out the eggs, sausage and cheese. This was not Valentine’s Day. This was a complete day of incessant cruelty and torment.

By the afternoon, I felt like a prisoner in the house of plenty. We visited some friends later in the day and the first thing they did was plunk down a bowl of spicy cheese dip and tortilla chips. Deep breaths, in, out, in, out. I brought a behemoth salad to share and a spinach/banana smoothie. Needless to say, I ate the whole salad myself along with three cups of tea because who wants lettuce when you can have cheese dip and wine? The whole day was a certifiable test of my will. But I will say that I only had one physical side effect although it was enormous. My caffeine withdrawals were intense. It was like someone had their hands on both sides of my head, trying to push their hands together, squishing my brain. The pressure! I couldn’t focus very well all day and it caused me to not feel quite right, like I was forcing myself to laugh and enjoy the day. I can completely understand why people can’t maintain on a diet—I was already justifying why I deserved one little sippy of coffee at the end of day one. But I pulled through! I ended my evening with a little snack—a handful of carrots and an avocado. Thank god I only have six more days to go…

No To Negative! My Will Is Blazing!

This past Saturday seemed like a normal day except I was gearing up for my first day on the raw food diet. I was excited but nervous; could I really stick to this stringent plan? I was especially worried because I am a coffee fanatic--the darker and meatier the better. I also crave sugar after every meal, and not just one stick of licorice or a handful of Hot Tamales, no. I crave a complete super-sized chocolate bar or a piece of apple pie the size of my head, and don't forget the vanilla bean ice cream.

On top of my own reservations, the reactions from my friends and family set my doubts on fire. When explaining my idea of eating natural, wholesome vegetables, fruits and nuts to them, they didn't seem as excited as I was. My boyfriend looked at me like I was a nutjob. My sister rolled her eyes and told me to "have fun with that." One of my best girlfriends actually warned me that it might be dangerous to eat so much fresh food. I was about to reconsider my intent when I spoke to my co-worker, Wendy. She paused, smiled, and genuinely said, "that's awesome!" while giving me a high-five. Wow.

Right after that exchange with Wendy, my mentality changed and my spirits lifted. I immediately thought, "I can accomplish this! I am up to the challenge! " And it taught me a serious lesson. We are so influenced by the people we surround ourselves with and we don't even realize it. They shape the way we comprehend life and the world we live. They affect the way we understand circumstances and each other. They even transform what we believe about ourselves. These people, the people who are closest to us can either praise us and encourage us to go for it, or they discourage us and limit our ideas and dreams. And whether they deliver a positive or a negative, we listen. And not only do we listen, we absorb it and make it our own.

Now you may say, "but I am in charge of what I think about. I make my own decisions about my life. No one has the capacity to influence me one way or the other." And that may be true, to some extent. But here is the challenge: the next time you express your plans to do something, anything, to your friends and family, pay close attention to what they say. Is it positive or negative? And if it is negative, and you keep hearing feedback that is gloomy, cynical or reluctant, how does it make you feel? Because I began this idea about my raw food diet excited about it and determined to accomplish it. But after receiving negative after negative, suddenly, I didn't feel so great about it anymore. My energy had fallen. The doubt came rushing in.

So, my test is not just about getting through seven days of eating differently. It is mostly about changing my paradigm, my way of thinking. And above all, I will guard my thoughts from the dissident voices that not only threaten me from the inside, but more importantly, threaten me externally as well.

Oh My God, I Think I’m Fat!

I woke up today and after a fitful sleep realized that I had gained over ten pounds in the last year. Now, let me be clear: it is not so much the number on the scale (which I don’t own anyway) that is the disturbing issue. It is the fact that when I am jarred awake by the scream of the alarm in the morning, and I finally slide my leg and touch my toe to the floor and sit up, I feel heavy. I feel my body, from the inside out, and it feels big. It doesn’t help also that when I stand in front of the closet everyday, the wait becomes longer and longer. What can I pull on that won’t squish my ass, cut into my belly when I sit down, or make me breathe in short tiny bursts all day? Do I own any mumus? Can I get away with sweatpants at the office? The questions and justifications become more and more ridiculous as I lean against the closet door, frowning.

But here is the true issue, the one that slaps me in the face with reality: I am not treating my body right and it is manifesting into bad health. In early December, on a Sunday morning, I woke up with a slight leg cramp in my right leg. By dinnertime, the pain was so bad I could barely put weight on it. By midnight, I was in agony and had to be taken to the emergency room. Almost twenty-four hours later in the ER after countless tests, the doctors finally concluded that I had an infection in my symbiotic fluid in my right hip joint. What? They didn’t know why; they didn’t know how. The one key explanation that one doctor offered, almost as a side note was that everyone gets toxicity in their system, but people dispose of it differently. Some have skin problems, some get high cholesterol, some have anxiety, etc. I obviously expel it through my hip joint. So, they rushed me into surgery, sliced open my hip and cleaned out the toxic gunk. Since then, I have done physical therapy, taken my antibiotics religiously and had the staples removed. I walked without a limp by the end of December and now, two months later, can run the stairs at the beach. But the toxicity issue still lingers and haunts me.

So when I woke up this morning and felt my fatness (to me, being 5’3” with a small frame, ten extra pounds feels fat) I decided it was time to make a change. On Sunday, February 14th, Valentine’s Day, I am starting a raw food diet. I have two days to binge and feast, and then I will begin my challenge. Thank goodness I still have some fried chicken and potatoes in the fridge…