Technically, Day 30 was yesterday, but after a full day of work, which followed three days of serving and attending a conference, I was too tired to hold my head up, let alone type a blog post.
i also suspect that my juice fast went a little too long. A week ago I cut my fingernails short and they haven’t grow a bit. I haven’t shaved my legs in three days and they are still smooth and hair free. I’ve been lethargic and cranky.
I can’t really blame the fast. Toward the end I just didn’t want anymore juice. It was more comfortable being hungry and weak than to go through the hassle of prepping fruit and veggies, juicing them, then cleaning the juicer, and then drinking my yet another concoction that wasn’t a burger and fries.
So I blame myself. And now I’m worried that I’ve entered starvation mode and screwed up my metabolism.
But alas, I did it. 30 days. 25 pounds lost.
I know I’m supposed to come out of this feeling wonderful, accomplished, and ready to start this new phase of life. But I have to be honest: the idea of eating nothing but raw fruits and veggies over the next 5-7 days is so not appealing. I also have to continue juicing, and I am just so sick of juice.
I’m trying to attribute these feelings to the normal emotional ups and downs that come with fasting. And one thing I’ve learned recently is that sometimes you just have to suck it up and do it anyway. Every time I had a craving over the last month I had to suck it up and drink juice instead. Science has shown that consistent behavior builds ruts in the brain, and this is how habits form. Building new ruts is hard and it takes time.
My ruts of bad eating have been ingrained in me over a lifetime. I can’t expect that to change in just 30 days. And I have done it before. In May, 2012 I became vegan and managed to stay on track for six months, got off track, went back on, and so on…I’m committed to getting back on track again and staying there. I just have to be consistent so those new ruts can form.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that my life depends on it. With my family history of cancer and my possession of the infamous breast cancer gene, eating right is about saving my life, not about looking good in a bikini this summer.
(But that would be nice, too)