If you're like me, you grew up in a hotbed of white flour. I'm not hatin' on my Italian Ma and her tasty spaghetti, or anyone else who cooks with and/or loves the white stuff, I'm just sayin' if you have it in your DNA, it's hard to expel it.
I love the angel dust of cooking. Whether it's bread, pasta, muffins, cakes, cookies, whatever. If it's made with white flour, I'll love it. Problem is, white flour carries a whole baggage of ills that we're all pretty familiar with by now. Everything from the fact that it's simply devoid of any whole grain goodness, to the fact that some flour has chemicals in it to bleach out the natural colour, it's all bad news. It's linked to a naughty list of diseases, everything from constipation to fatigue to diabetes and cancer, and it just generally makes regular folk experiences spikes in moods, energy, and mojo. So yeah, it's tasty, but c'mon.
No surprise that the detox forces you to remove white flour from your diet. And after the detox is over, don't bring it back. I've turfed the stuff from my cupboard altogether. If there's a recipe I'm making that needs it, I'll find another recipe. Because I crave the stuff and it gets into my blood, man, I can't have it just sometimes. It's gone forever.
What you can have on the detox are quinoa, millet and buckwheat. There are a host of sites that trumpet the benefits of these quick-exit grains (some of which aren't true grains at all), so read up and experiment with these babies if you haven't already. I've been avoiding all grains for the first week of the program, but last night we had soba (buckwheat) noodles with homemade marinara (did I mention I'm Italian and it's hard to purge this stuff from your blood?!). It congealed and looked awful but tasted not bad. Wouldn't make it again, but will keep messing around with the noodles to see what we all like.
After the detox is over, I would recommend experimenting with introducing other whole grains back into your diet. Pay attention to what they do to your energy/mood/bowels and stay away from packaged/processed breads from the grocery store. Yes, some have whole grains, but a lot also have other shite, like sulphites, that gets mixed in there. And if you bake, remember that whole wheat is not necessarily the same as whole grain. It's work, y'all, but your bod will thank you.
I'm off to spend almost a whole freakin' day at the cancer clinic - four appointments in all, including injection time this afternoon. And tonight, it's all about the eggplant.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Detox day six: a fresh start
Let's forget yesterday every happened. And last night. And this morning. It's a new day and I love my juice and my six-year old will be nice again and my three-year old will sleep through the night eventually.
I'm telling you, when there were sleep issues pre-cancer, I was a wreck the next day, whether I was working or not. I used caffeine to get me through the day and collapsed on sugar or white flour in the afternoon to punch it through for another few hours. Since the juice goddesses entered my life - even during chemo and the worst of my autumn affair with pneumonia - I've been able to punch through the day feeling a lot more energized. No more naps (tho I do loves me a good mid-day shut eye) and the only heavy crash coming at night, after the kids are in bed. And since beginning the detox, I've been awake in the evenings a lot more, which is nothing short of a freakin' miracle when I've got the radiation monster at my door.
We're almost a week into this thing and to say I'm happy happy joy joy about my detox posse is a majah understatement. I know I've got a stupidly naive vision for my juicing brood (no cancer, no diabetes, no heart disease, no weight issues, no food addictions), but if I start with knowing I want to phase out my own darling tumours, then I can only jump to conclusions and wish for not a hint of disease in the ones I love. There is absolutely no reason why we can't all live a long, energized, healthy and happy life and die from just being bloody old instead of bloody sick, enjoying a few slices of choco cake along the way. And not to be all maudlin about it, but just because you've got both feet in the land of the living today, doesn't mean your body will be willing to keep doing the hard work it does every day without a little help from you.
Wait... did somebody say red sequin bikini? I've been thinking of the limbo I'll soon be in post-radiation but pre-surgery while my sunburned chesty is healing and what does a little radiation damage love more than soothing creams? More toxic rays!! Yes, a sun vacation may be in order for February. Pete and I have been talking about the best time to go away together and since post-surgery seems so fraught with unknowns and hopefully a speedy return to work, we were thinking of cramming in a week of sunny bliss sometime next month. At the top of the list right now is Palm Springs.
I know, dream big! Got to the Turks and Caicos! Head to Greece! Problem is, my practical brain can't justify shelling out $6,000 for one week away. My bank account is anemic, y'all, and besides, I want to take my girls on a sun vacation at some point this year, so let's not be too stupid about the Visa. And Paris in February is... well, very cold and wet.
I know almost zero about PS, other than the Sweet Dreams novel I read called P.S. I Love You, where the P.S. secretly stood for Paul Strobe. Oh, my young adult reading years of the 80s, how I miss you. When I look at that cover, I think of my gorgeous friend M in Robert's Creek, and imagine she looked like that at 16, billowy peasant blouse and all.
Anyhoo. I love the mid-century retro vibe of PS (or what I imagine it to be), plus there's the desert heat. Plus a bit of outlet heaven. Plus an awesome area to go for a bit of a driving tour. Plus it's cheap to fly and stay there. Plus... I don't bloody well know! How do you describe why a place grabs you by the balls all of a sudden? I just wanna go and I'll be chatting with my onc tomorrow to see if I can fit a week into my Herceptin schedule in Feb.
Shine up the sequins on your matching trunks, Pete. We're gettin' the hell out of Dodge.
I'm telling you, when there were sleep issues pre-cancer, I was a wreck the next day, whether I was working or not. I used caffeine to get me through the day and collapsed on sugar or white flour in the afternoon to punch it through for another few hours. Since the juice goddesses entered my life - even during chemo and the worst of my autumn affair with pneumonia - I've been able to punch through the day feeling a lot more energized. No more naps (tho I do loves me a good mid-day shut eye) and the only heavy crash coming at night, after the kids are in bed. And since beginning the detox, I've been awake in the evenings a lot more, which is nothing short of a freakin' miracle when I've got the radiation monster at my door.
We're almost a week into this thing and to say I'm happy happy joy joy about my detox posse is a majah understatement. I know I've got a stupidly naive vision for my juicing brood (no cancer, no diabetes, no heart disease, no weight issues, no food addictions), but if I start with knowing I want to phase out my own darling tumours, then I can only jump to conclusions and wish for not a hint of disease in the ones I love. There is absolutely no reason why we can't all live a long, energized, healthy and happy life and die from just being bloody old instead of bloody sick, enjoying a few slices of choco cake along the way. And not to be all maudlin about it, but just because you've got both feet in the land of the living today, doesn't mean your body will be willing to keep doing the hard work it does every day without a little help from you.
Wait... did somebody say red sequin bikini? I've been thinking of the limbo I'll soon be in post-radiation but pre-surgery while my sunburned chesty is healing and what does a little radiation damage love more than soothing creams? More toxic rays!! Yes, a sun vacation may be in order for February. Pete and I have been talking about the best time to go away together and since post-surgery seems so fraught with unknowns and hopefully a speedy return to work, we were thinking of cramming in a week of sunny bliss sometime next month. At the top of the list right now is Palm Springs.
I know, dream big! Got to the Turks and Caicos! Head to Greece! Problem is, my practical brain can't justify shelling out $6,000 for one week away. My bank account is anemic, y'all, and besides, I want to take my girls on a sun vacation at some point this year, so let's not be too stupid about the Visa. And Paris in February is... well, very cold and wet.
I know almost zero about PS, other than the Sweet Dreams novel I read called P.S. I Love You, where the P.S. secretly stood for Paul Strobe. Oh, my young adult reading years of the 80s, how I miss you. When I look at that cover, I think of my gorgeous friend M in Robert's Creek, and imagine she looked like that at 16, billowy peasant blouse and all.
Anyhoo. I love the mid-century retro vibe of PS (or what I imagine it to be), plus there's the desert heat. Plus a bit of outlet heaven. Plus an awesome area to go for a bit of a driving tour. Plus it's cheap to fly and stay there. Plus... I don't bloody well know! How do you describe why a place grabs you by the balls all of a sudden? I just wanna go and I'll be chatting with my onc tomorrow to see if I can fit a week into my Herceptin schedule in Feb.
Shine up the sequins on your matching trunks, Pete. We're gettin' the hell out of Dodge.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Detox day five: calgon, take me away
A brutal day with one or both of the frokens in this house beats any bad day with cancer. Tonight was Stella's turn and it was a doozy.
She was a rotter from the moment Pete went into her after-school care to pick her up and it was capped off by a mammoth meltdown tonight that turned the house upside down and dragged us all into the ancient Indian burial ground with it. Mamma mia. When it was all over, I just wanted to sink into the couch and never get up, never mind wash another fucking carrot or spin some bloody lettuce. Thank you, dark chocolate, for coming to my rescue.
Before it all started, I was home with a sick Pete, heading out for a veggie shop and a laser blast and then the dentist in the afternoon to find out about my jaw. He figures my lifelong grinding was likely exacerbated by the stress of the c-dawg and then the chemo blast to my good cells and voila - clicking jaw. When I told him it was clicking a little more quietly over the past couple of days but that my bite was now ruined, he figured a piece of cartilage had come loose and would likely never come back. And now I have to get a bite guard to make sure things don't deteriorate further. Zexy time.
So I'm over my brain cancer fear and moving on to other neuroses.
With this whole detox sitch, I've been thinking about hunger a lot lately and how we (in the Western world and with immediate access to food) are so messed up when it comes to hunger. It's like the first sign of it and we panic: fill the hole, fill the hole!! And I'm the same way. It's not that I think it's unnatural to eat when you're hungry, but is it so bad to feel the hunger a little sometimes and then be so ready for a meal? It's complicated, I know. There's low blood sugar issues, distracting growling, all that jazz. But when we're succumbing to diseases of affluence and not of lack, I think it's okay to feel a bit hungry during the day.
Okay - that's me being cranky. Likely cuz I'm hungry.
She was a rotter from the moment Pete went into her after-school care to pick her up and it was capped off by a mammoth meltdown tonight that turned the house upside down and dragged us all into the ancient Indian burial ground with it. Mamma mia. When it was all over, I just wanted to sink into the couch and never get up, never mind wash another fucking carrot or spin some bloody lettuce. Thank you, dark chocolate, for coming to my rescue.
Before it all started, I was home with a sick Pete, heading out for a veggie shop and a laser blast and then the dentist in the afternoon to find out about my jaw. He figures my lifelong grinding was likely exacerbated by the stress of the c-dawg and then the chemo blast to my good cells and voila - clicking jaw. When I told him it was clicking a little more quietly over the past couple of days but that my bite was now ruined, he figured a piece of cartilage had come loose and would likely never come back. And now I have to get a bite guard to make sure things don't deteriorate further. Zexy time.
So I'm over my brain cancer fear and moving on to other neuroses.
With this whole detox sitch, I've been thinking about hunger a lot lately and how we (in the Western world and with immediate access to food) are so messed up when it comes to hunger. It's like the first sign of it and we panic: fill the hole, fill the hole!! And I'm the same way. It's not that I think it's unnatural to eat when you're hungry, but is it so bad to feel the hunger a little sometimes and then be so ready for a meal? It's complicated, I know. There's low blood sugar issues, distracting growling, all that jazz. But when we're succumbing to diseases of affluence and not of lack, I think it's okay to feel a bit hungry during the day.
Okay - that's me being cranky. Likely cuz I'm hungry.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Detox day four: all about the solo trip
Everyone went back to their respective jobs today, including me to my cancer-crimefighting unit (plain clothes). It gave me a chance to go at this detox dealio alone and see if I could be trusted.
I had already made Pete his salad for today so I juiced for the boy this morning, throwing in an extra helping to feed to myself later. I managed to last on aqua alone until around 9:30, but listen to this, y'all - before I tackled the juice I managed to fit in a 20 minute 30-day Shred workout with Jillian Michaels. Oh yeah, baby. I feel peppy today (and using the word peppy for the first time evah).
The juice was enough to get me over to the radiation chamber where I taught my master class in laser beam positioning. They really should pay me for this stuff. I ended up getting the mom/tech I had recognized earlier from Frances' daycare but she begged off the breast peering and ushered in a replacement to line up the tattoos with the lasers. All a little bit strange nonetheless.
When I started shoving my lunchtime salad down my gullet (sprouts galore, cuke, avocado, goat cheese and salsa for dressing), crunching down on the green goodness, I was reminded once again that I have a little issue with my jaw that cropped up right around the time I was diagnosed. You see, it cracks now when I chew. Charming, I know. And every single time I hear it, I'm reminded of a little Canadian movie I saw when I was in the nightmarish waiting period pre-diagnosis, called Two Weeks, about a man who has terminal cancer and goes on a motorcycle trip across the country. Joshua Jackson describes all the annoying things about his fiance, one of which is her clicking jaw. So yes, Pete will leave me one day for this affliction. I am stating this prediction here.
In possibly related news, before Christmas I started getting a bit dizzy when I stood up quickly (inner ear?). That feeling has mostly subsided, but over the past few days, my jaw has felt misaligned, like I can't bite my back teeth together without feeling a click and a pressure in my ears. And since yesterday, this whole sitch has been sending some shooting pain to my brain like a little temporary headache.
Don't think I haven't thought brain cancer. I have. My grandmother had it, and it was inevitable that I would turn into Woody Allen over this whole extended handshake with the c-word. But I'm not sweating it too much. I'm seeing my dentist tomorrow and I'll peer into his eyes to see if he's worried. I have no idea if he can do anything about it, but I have visions of my jaw being broken and rewired. Whatevs. I'll deal with whatever it is.
You see? This detox is either making me insane or much better able to cope. Either way.
I had already made Pete his salad for today so I juiced for the boy this morning, throwing in an extra helping to feed to myself later. I managed to last on aqua alone until around 9:30, but listen to this, y'all - before I tackled the juice I managed to fit in a 20 minute 30-day Shred workout with Jillian Michaels. Oh yeah, baby. I feel peppy today (and using the word peppy for the first time evah).
The juice was enough to get me over to the radiation chamber where I taught my master class in laser beam positioning. They really should pay me for this stuff. I ended up getting the mom/tech I had recognized earlier from Frances' daycare but she begged off the breast peering and ushered in a replacement to line up the tattoos with the lasers. All a little bit strange nonetheless.
When I started shoving my lunchtime salad down my gullet (sprouts galore, cuke, avocado, goat cheese and salsa for dressing), crunching down on the green goodness, I was reminded once again that I have a little issue with my jaw that cropped up right around the time I was diagnosed. You see, it cracks now when I chew. Charming, I know. And every single time I hear it, I'm reminded of a little Canadian movie I saw when I was in the nightmarish waiting period pre-diagnosis, called Two Weeks, about a man who has terminal cancer and goes on a motorcycle trip across the country. Joshua Jackson describes all the annoying things about his fiance, one of which is her clicking jaw. So yes, Pete will leave me one day for this affliction. I am stating this prediction here.
In possibly related news, before Christmas I started getting a bit dizzy when I stood up quickly (inner ear?). That feeling has mostly subsided, but over the past few days, my jaw has felt misaligned, like I can't bite my back teeth together without feeling a click and a pressure in my ears. And since yesterday, this whole sitch has been sending some shooting pain to my brain like a little temporary headache.
Don't think I haven't thought brain cancer. I have. My grandmother had it, and it was inevitable that I would turn into Woody Allen over this whole extended handshake with the c-word. But I'm not sweating it too much. I'm seeing my dentist tomorrow and I'll peer into his eyes to see if he's worried. I have no idea if he can do anything about it, but I have visions of my jaw being broken and rewired. Whatevs. I'll deal with whatever it is.
You see? This detox is either making me insane or much better able to cope. Either way.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Detox day three: all about eating out
Here's the thing about me and detoxing, which I've been doing in some form or another at various times of the year for almost 10 years; I need to be able to take my feedbag on the road if I'm going to make it work. And the difference between this detox and all the others is that my intention isn't only to give my my bod a break from the sugars, flours and cooked food swimming around in there. It's to figure out how I'm going eat to live disease-free until I'm old as the hills.
So I went to a pub today with Pete. Spinach salad with beets and goat cheese. Only catch was the candied almonds on top. I'm a complete sucker for candied anything, especially nutjobs. I tasted one to show the mofos who was boss then shoved the rest to the side of my plate, never to be touched again. Suck it, sugar.
Day three and I feel great eating-wise. I know the mornings are hard. The juice is delish, but it's hard to keep it liquid and scarce in the am. So here's the reason why, bastardized from all the books I've read on eating to beat the crap out of disease and live a strong, healthy life (but mostly from Fit for Life):
Your bod follows a regular cycle every day. Cycle one is all about elimination. This happens around 4 am until around noon. This is when you want to give your body the biggest break on expending energy to digest. Fruit and veg in their raw form (fruit esp) are the easiest and quickest to digest, and getting it in juice form is even lovelier for your bod because you get all the fab enzymes in the stuff without any extra breaking down effort in your guts.
Cycle two is about the appropriation of food and it happens between noon and around 8 pm. You want to keep things light here, too, and the experts will want to pay attention to food combining, so you're never eating a starch and a flesh together (in other words, eat salad and a potato, or salad and fish, but not salad, fish and a potato).
Cycle three is assimilation, which is the heavy lifting of digestion, and happens between 8 pm and 4 am. Eat your heaviest meal before this time because your bod is ready for it and working its arse off to get things moving for the elimination period. But again, watch your food combining to keep digestion times away from the mammoth 12 hours that a big steak and potato meal can demand.
I'm learning as fast as I can on this stuff, and admittedly, I've had six months to figure some shit out, have been juicing in earnest since September, and have been taking in the liquid breakfast for several weeks now, so I feel pretty comfortable with the routine now. But I know the morn is hard. It does get easier. And your beautiful skin-covered home will so thank you for letting it play by its natural rules. Your blood sugar will regulate. Your, ahem, bowels will regulate. Your moods will regulate. You'll soon have energy enough to wake up like a grinning idiot every day.
In other c-word news, I saw my surgeon today. I told her I was pretty damn close to making the decision to hack both breasts off in the name of living longer. She completely understood and was her wonderful, no-nonsense self. Seriously, I want to take this woman out for a martini and hear some surgery horror stories. She's just so damn cool. She's going to try to use her influence to move up my plastic surgery appointment so I can get the new set picked out, ordered and fitted before the ink is dry on my radiation treatments. Exciting and oh so surreal. Really just want to get those sucker dog tumours out already so I can get on with wearing a red sequin bikini around the neighbourhood.
Oh, don't think I won't be that annoying when I get the new set.
So I went to a pub today with Pete. Spinach salad with beets and goat cheese. Only catch was the candied almonds on top. I'm a complete sucker for candied anything, especially nutjobs. I tasted one to show the mofos who was boss then shoved the rest to the side of my plate, never to be touched again. Suck it, sugar.
Day three and I feel great eating-wise. I know the mornings are hard. The juice is delish, but it's hard to keep it liquid and scarce in the am. So here's the reason why, bastardized from all the books I've read on eating to beat the crap out of disease and live a strong, healthy life (but mostly from Fit for Life):
Your bod follows a regular cycle every day. Cycle one is all about elimination. This happens around 4 am until around noon. This is when you want to give your body the biggest break on expending energy to digest. Fruit and veg in their raw form (fruit esp) are the easiest and quickest to digest, and getting it in juice form is even lovelier for your bod because you get all the fab enzymes in the stuff without any extra breaking down effort in your guts.
Cycle two is about the appropriation of food and it happens between noon and around 8 pm. You want to keep things light here, too, and the experts will want to pay attention to food combining, so you're never eating a starch and a flesh together (in other words, eat salad and a potato, or salad and fish, but not salad, fish and a potato).
Cycle three is assimilation, which is the heavy lifting of digestion, and happens between 8 pm and 4 am. Eat your heaviest meal before this time because your bod is ready for it and working its arse off to get things moving for the elimination period. But again, watch your food combining to keep digestion times away from the mammoth 12 hours that a big steak and potato meal can demand.
I'm learning as fast as I can on this stuff, and admittedly, I've had six months to figure some shit out, have been juicing in earnest since September, and have been taking in the liquid breakfast for several weeks now, so I feel pretty comfortable with the routine now. But I know the morn is hard. It does get easier. And your beautiful skin-covered home will so thank you for letting it play by its natural rules. Your blood sugar will regulate. Your, ahem, bowels will regulate. Your moods will regulate. You'll soon have energy enough to wake up like a grinning idiot every day.
In other c-word news, I saw my surgeon today. I told her I was pretty damn close to making the decision to hack both breasts off in the name of living longer. She completely understood and was her wonderful, no-nonsense self. Seriously, I want to take this woman out for a martini and hear some surgery horror stories. She's just so damn cool. She's going to try to use her influence to move up my plastic surgery appointment so I can get the new set picked out, ordered and fitted before the ink is dry on my radiation treatments. Exciting and oh so surreal. Really just want to get those sucker dog tumours out already so I can get on with wearing a red sequin bikini around the neighbourhood.
Oh, don't think I won't be that annoying when I get the new set.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Detox day two: all about the mussels
Yesterday was fairly easy, as far as cravings go. I had a few moments in the afternoon when I walked longingly by the recycling and my discarded chocolate boxes from the day before, but otherwise I kicked those mofo sugar cravings in the arse and made some salsa/avocado dip and carrot/celery sticks.
Pete retired his gigantic Italian coffee-maker to the rumpus room and omg the counter space! Like having a new bloody kitchen. I made a new home for my juicer and the 4-slicer that is way underused these days.
Dinner wasn't terribly inspired. Delicious homemade chicken broth c/o Pete, a baked sweet potato, steamed broccoli and tomato/onion/cuke/basil salad. Not exactly one to win over the meat eater in my man. The kids had a spoonful or two of the broth and a piece of bread and then declared the whole deal so over. Can't be swinging from the chandelier every evening, s'pose.
Last night Pete made popcorn (yes, R, I say yes to popcorn) and I had a few squares of dark choco. A pretty normal night all around.
This morning is Pete's first morning w/o the liquid drug so we're all waiting for him to bite the head off a baby goat. So far so good. We'll fill up that dreaded 10 am to 12 pm slot with some swimming at the rec centre and shopping for more veg.
Tonight? Moules et frites with the cousins plus a big bad salad. T'is the good life as far as I'm concerned, Joe.
Pete retired his gigantic Italian coffee-maker to the rumpus room and omg the counter space! Like having a new bloody kitchen. I made a new home for my juicer and the 4-slicer that is way underused these days.
Dinner wasn't terribly inspired. Delicious homemade chicken broth c/o Pete, a baked sweet potato, steamed broccoli and tomato/onion/cuke/basil salad. Not exactly one to win over the meat eater in my man. The kids had a spoonful or two of the broth and a piece of bread and then declared the whole deal so over. Can't be swinging from the chandelier every evening, s'pose.
Last night Pete made popcorn (yes, R, I say yes to popcorn) and I had a few squares of dark choco. A pretty normal night all around.
This morning is Pete's first morning w/o the liquid drug so we're all waiting for him to bite the head off a baby goat. So far so good. We'll fill up that dreaded 10 am to 12 pm slot with some swimming at the rec centre and shopping for more veg.
Tonight? Moules et frites with the cousins plus a big bad salad. T'is the good life as far as I'm concerned, Joe.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Detox day one: all about the nicoise
Day one of the 30-day detox and so far so good.
Two huge cups of water for both Pete and me between 8 and 10 am, about 16 oz of kale/beet/carrot/celery/cuke/apple/ginger/lemon juice (yum) at around 10:30 while we traipsed down to Gyro for a chilly but beautiful outing with the girls. Amazingly, they were actually ready to go before we were.
At noon I fixed us a modified nicoise salad. Spring greens, chopped up leftover potatoes from last night, cooked green beans, tomato, various sprouts, pea shoots, avocado, radishes and a little goat cheddar (not officially on the detox, but wtf). The dressing was olive oil, grated garlic, dijon, white balsamic, a drop of agave, dried basil and oregano and salt and pepper. Vinegar not on the detox, but again, sue me. It was delish and filling.
Now I'm sipping some decaf green tea and tonight we'll likely have some leftover chicken and maybe some spinach, carrots and salad.
There have been some offline questions about adding stuff into the lunchtime salad to make it more filling (you know who you are, R). I found the nicoise I made was plenty filling, but by all means, add some cooked egg, a piece of fish or chicken or have a baked potato/sweet potato with a little butter and salt). Or have a salad and veggie soup. If you can get through the morning on water and juice, fill up a little more at lunch. I think the morning is the most important time, as is the idea that you go from your lightest to heaviest meal, loading up at dinner. Don't starve yourself, but realize this is mostly about the almighty veg and eliminating the caffeine, sugars and flours. Make it mostly about those things and don't sweat the eggs, fish and chicken to increase the happy fun time factor.
And seriously, my Ma? She's got her own juice/salad delivery service going out there in Glen Lake. You're my hero, lady.
Two huge cups of water for both Pete and me between 8 and 10 am, about 16 oz of kale/beet/carrot/celery/cuke/apple/ginger/lemon juice (yum) at around 10:30 while we traipsed down to Gyro for a chilly but beautiful outing with the girls. Amazingly, they were actually ready to go before we were.
At noon I fixed us a modified nicoise salad. Spring greens, chopped up leftover potatoes from last night, cooked green beans, tomato, various sprouts, pea shoots, avocado, radishes and a little goat cheddar (not officially on the detox, but wtf). The dressing was olive oil, grated garlic, dijon, white balsamic, a drop of agave, dried basil and oregano and salt and pepper. Vinegar not on the detox, but again, sue me. It was delish and filling.
Now I'm sipping some decaf green tea and tonight we'll likely have some leftover chicken and maybe some spinach, carrots and salad.
There have been some offline questions about adding stuff into the lunchtime salad to make it more filling (you know who you are, R). I found the nicoise I made was plenty filling, but by all means, add some cooked egg, a piece of fish or chicken or have a baked potato/sweet potato with a little butter and salt). Or have a salad and veggie soup. If you can get through the morning on water and juice, fill up a little more at lunch. I think the morning is the most important time, as is the idea that you go from your lightest to heaviest meal, loading up at dinner. Don't starve yourself, but realize this is mostly about the almighty veg and eliminating the caffeine, sugars and flours. Make it mostly about those things and don't sweat the eggs, fish and chicken to increase the happy fun time factor.
And seriously, my Ma? She's got her own juice/salad delivery service going out there in Glen Lake. You're my hero, lady.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)