Oh the agony that is food envy…

Whole30: Day 9

I had a lot of predictions about how I would be feeling around now. Twitchy, hangry, desperate, etc…

The surprising thing is that I feel relatively fine. Sure, I’m still adjusting, but overall I’m pretty used to this whole endeavor.

Hooray! I’m stronger than I thought!

That’s a nice surprise amongst a few less nice ones. Mainly, food cravings up the wazoo.

Actually, craving isn’t quite the right word. I was expecting cravings, everybody gets those. No, this is like a deep longing, within my very soul. And it’s not the food I was expecting either; not cheese or beer or peanut butter…

It’s bread.

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I. ACHE. FOR. BREAD.

Seriously, it’s begun haunting my dreams. Over the weekend I dreamt that my mom was on a burgling spree (it was a big misunderstanding, that’s not important), and I was the getaway driver. The only reason I agreed to get in the drivers seat was that I could drive AND eat the loaf of bread I was clutching for dear life. I crashed her beautiful vintage car into a mini-golf course, and I didn’t care, as long as the bread was ok! What!?

Anyway.

I have always enjoyed bread, but I pretty much enjoy any food I eat. It’s only after sacrificing bread that I realize how deeply integrated it is into my regular routine. I cannot count the number of times in the last week I’ve thought “ooh! Toast for breakfaaoh wait…” or looked with longing for a roll to eat with my soup. Any time I think about grabbing lunch if I’m sick of leftovers, my first thought is “I could go that place and get a sandwiioohh wait…”

Suddenly, bread is all I want, and it’s FRIGGIN. EVERYWHERE.

I see people with sandwiches (from subway, no less) and I want to rend garments.

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Did you know there are entire restaurants that have named themselves after bread? Let that sink in for a minute: there is a store that’s just called “bread” in Italian, and there’s one that’s called “good bread” in French. WHAT IS THAT ABOUT??? Hell, some stores ONLY sell bread. I mean it, ALL THEY SELL IS BREAD. ARE THEY TRYING TO TORTURE ME!?

When I think back to the lead-up to this little hellscape and what I expected to learn about myself, the fact that I would practically go to pieces at the sight of a baguette in a bakery window definitely wasn’t on my list.

Hopefully, this is a temporary thing, I’ll adjust and then it will go away. Right? It’ll go away, it HAS TO GO AWAY.

Oh please please please great kabbalah monster, make it go awaayyyyyyy.

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