Papa John is NOT Your Daddy.

Nope, PJ is NOT your daddy.  Neither is his take-and-bake brother, Papa Murphy.

I have eaten a lot of pizza.

Some of it very expensive and really tasty.  Pizza to be savored and shared with a MAN.  Think Mellow Mushroom and Omni hotel room service margarita pizza.

Some of it just a cheap and shameful fling.  Think burning the roof of my mouth in the car, gulping it down before even hitting the first intersection on the drive home.  This was typically Little Caesar’s or Domino’s 5 dollar deals.  There’s a reason these pizzas are marketed as:  “fast and easy?”  “cheap and ready?”  Sounds like an ideal hook up.

Some of it ordered online and delivered to my door.  I didn’t even have to leave the comfort of my stale yoga pants and dark cave-like existence.  Papa John’s 50 percent off coupon on the days after a Ranger’s win got me more interested in baseball than I have ever been in my life.  When Jake and I first separated, I stayed in a back office of a land surveyor’s office in White Settlement, Texas.  (yes, we do have towns called WHITE SETTLEMENT…sigh)  The room was an addition, was unfinished pine walls, and had no windows.  None.  This habitat was lovingly referred to as:  THE BOX.  Without a lot of details, the Papa John’s delivery guy had The BOX on autopilot.  Nuf said.

If I was willing to be a bit patient, which wasn’t usually the case, I would go for Papa Murphy’s.  On Tuesday’s, ANY SIZE pizza is $10.  Tuesdays were highly anticipated events.  PM’s is less than a mile from my school/house.  By 4:30 on any given Tuesday, I could be found with a FOUR POUND Chicago style STUFFED pizzachicago-pizza

This image is NOT intended to be food porn, I apologize if it triggers anyone.  I just thought a visual of what I was consuming on a very regular basis might be somewhat interesting.

I share all of this to make exactly ONE point.

A whole pizza does not constitute whole food.

Believe me, I tried to make it so.  I spent 45 years eating WHOLE f*cking pizzas, and I suppose they served their purpose.  They allowed me to numb out everything else and live well beneath the radar.  Well done pizza.  Well done.

So, we’ve discussed Diet Dr. Thunder.  That was the first baby step FOR ME. (Your baby steps may be entirely different.  YOU DO YOU)  My next baby step was intermittent fasting.  Remember, during my intermittent fasting, I ate WHATEVER the hell I wanted, as long as I only consumed during my 8 hour eating window.  If I wanted my pizza, baked cheetos, pink wine (that was a beverage, and didn’t count in the eating window, convenient, right?) peanut m&m’s, red vines et al, I COULD and WOULD have them.  Starting at 11am the next morning.

We have also established that weight loss does not motivate me to do sh*t.  I just don’t care enough.  But, when I found the Mind Body Green website in February of 2016.  I started started doing the tiniest bit of reading about my GUT.  What I read led to the decision to attempt one more change in nutrition.  The decision and change were attempted NOT FOR WEIGHT LOSS, but rather, to see if my life long depression and increasing anxiety/panic attacks could be alleviated, even just a bit.

Are you ready for my crazy change?  REALLY READY?

I decided to eat real and whole food.

This was not a lifetime commitment.  If life, divorce, leaving the Mormon church, career changes and more certifications, certificates, degrees, and letters after my name have taught me anything about myself, I’m not great at LIFETIME commitments.  They scare me.  Life is a long time.  And I’m sure these issues will be better discussed with a trained professional, but for now, y’all are stuck with me, as is.

I did my due diligence, googled around (as google is my God, Therapist, Nutritionist, Trainer, and all around guru) and decided to do THIS 10-day real food challenge.

I am also not one to follow other people’s plans, programs, or recommendations to the letter.  (Stubborn and arrogant much?)  So in a nutshell:

I ate whole, real foods as much as possible.  (I know, some of you smarty pants are going to say/think, “Laura, all food is REAL, it’s not imaginary”)  There is real food, and there is frankenfood.  Deal.

If I DID consume a processed food (ie in a can, box, frozen whatever)  I tried to make sure that the ingredient list had fewer than 5 items, and that I could pronounce them all.  I had spent my LIFE reading food labels.  And I looked at two things.  Calories and fat.  That hadn’t worked out so well for me, so maybe reading the actual ingredients I was consuming would be helpful.  At the very least, it was informative and enlightening.  I honestly had NO f*cking clue what I was putting into my body.

I completed my 10 days, and decided to continue eating whole, real, foods, as much as possible.  I’m not crazy (as in obsessive) about it.  Which is saying something, as I tend to be crazy about everything.  I just make my best efforts, especially when I’m the one in control of the cooking, shopping, and food prep.

There is a lot of nutritional information out there.  Lots of research, studies, and expert opinions.  And. A. Lot. of. confusion. and. conflict.  So, who do you believe?

YOU.  You do you’re own badass self.  BUT, If you’re not willing to attempt anything new because you’re too old, too fat, too sick, to depressed, your metabolism is shot, you know your body has to have 900 calories a day, you know you have to work out HARD for 90 minutes daily, you just KNOW:  BUT YOU’RE STILL SICK, MISERABLE, TIRED, AND GENERALLY F*CKED UP…you may not know what you think you know.

Try.  Give it 10 days.  Open your mind, spirit, and heart just the tiniest bit and explore the possibilities.  You might be amazed.  You might grow.  You might glow.  You might flow.  You might show.  (I like rhyming, it’s a literacy teacher thing).  You might hate me, hate yourself, and go right back to eating your processed whole pizzas, jenny craig, nutrisystem, and weighwatchers frankenfoods.  That is your choice.  Not mine.  Thank God not mine.

What are you willing to try, today?

Love and Light,

Big Laura


7 thoughts on “Papa John is NOT Your Daddy.

  1. Pingback: Enough | Big Laura

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