Deep into the sugar-free detox, Louise has reached the weekend …
and hit a brick wall of tears, steaks and Rihanna envy
The good Dr Mark Hyman, whose program I’ve been following for the past seven days, warns that around day five “it’s not uncommon to feel waves of emotion that can catch you off guard”.
I can testify to this, given the heart-wrenching sobs that bubbled to the surface when Mario Gotze scored his cracking winning goal for Germany in the World Cup final on Sunday night.
In bits I was, bits.
Whether I was crying for a new-found love of all things Teutonic or simply pining for one of their very finely crafted beers, I have no idea. All I know is that my tears took me by surprise then, and again the next morning when, recounting the story to my dear sister Fran, they freely flowed again.
I also saw a picture of Rihanna, flanked by Lukas Podolski and Bastian Schweinsteiger, holding the World Cup trophy and was consumed both by jealousy and wanting to be her at the same time.
I’m not sure if these are the emotions that myself or Dr Hyman would be expecting, but I’m having them anyway. I own them.
The weekend was tough, as you can see. On Sunday morning, I woke to find a small stye forming on my lower left eyelid. I wanted a large T-bone steak goddammit, with all the sides and a big glass of decadent red wine, a deep Rioja, a sultry Malbec.
I was restless all morning, pre-match nerves you could say, which I channelled into ironing. I am my mother’s daughter.
I was forced to come to certain conclusions on Sunday. The detox part of the program is still ongoing – I feel very good physically – but I want something sweet, I really want that steak and wine combo and I love the World Cup, despite FIFA trying to ruin it for the whole planet (including the USA – welcome to our world of pain!)
I got my steak, sans vino, and it was lush. I got my tears and joy and I went to bed, emotionally drained.
It’s three days into Louise’s 10-day sugar detox. Here she
shares the good and bad of the experience so far
I have not caved. Not once. A spiral of wholewheat pasta intended for the girls’ dinner almost made it into my mouth straight from the pot to check readiness but instead was hurled across the kitchen floor when I realised what I was doing.
A punnet of grapes handed to me half empty begged to be finished in the blazing sunshine in Largs. I stood defiant.
Nardini’s? You’ve got nothing.
After a spin class on Day 1, my head was thumping. I rarely get headaches, so I confess to being a wuss when I do, but this was a cracker, right behind my eyes, dull and achey.
I wanted to go home, pull the curtains and wait for the next day to come, but I still hadn’t recorded my pre-diet measurements,(waist, hips, etc) because I do not own an-old fashioned tape measure.
I was not in the mood for shopping, however, so after the third shop assistant shook her head sadly at me, I was off for home. However, to get home, I have to pass an Aladdin’s cave of a newsagents called Para Para.
Just on the off chance then. “Tailor’s tape missus? Right here.” I could have kissed the man.
Measurements taken and recorded (not to be shared), I had a quick lunch of baked haddock with salad and guacamole. Delicious, and to top it all, my headache had lifted.
I started reading the book again, this time in a bit more detail. I have not followed the diet to every scrupulous detail so far nor do I intend to.
I didn’t visit my GP and order a battery of tests, nor will I be testing my blood sugar every morning. I balked slightly when the author referred to his pastor and “healing outreach”.
But I do think that a time out from certain foodstuffs, processed and natural, seems like a good idea.
My first day dinner was another of my own creations – chicken with tamari, baked green beans and shallots. Lots of fresh chilli, too. Five minutes of breathing was done in my Epsom salt bath, multi tasker that I am.
Girls to bed, cup of fruit tea and I settled down to watch the Germany-Brazil game.
Did I mention that the good Dr Hyman also advises limiting TV and social media before bed? Och, I won’t get that excited, will I? I peeled myself off the ceiling and into bed at 11.15. Bad girl.
I slept really well. My youngest woke at 5 a.m. And that was the first I had stirred. I stumbled into the kitchen, heated some milk and gave it to her. Then, oh miracle of miracles, I fell asleep again. Normally I would lie back down, toss and turn for 10 minutes, then get up and get the coffeepot ready.
No coffee, more sleep. This I could get used to.
I felt so much better on the morning of day 2, headache gone but slightly congested, as though I had a cold coming on.
I made one of the smoothies from the book, omitting only what I didn’t have in my cupboards. It was ok, no great shakes (sorry, I can’t help myself).
Spin class next, with the toughest instructor in the gym and I felt great. My energy levels were high and I felt up for it. That’s the thing about a plan like this, you start to feel better and better each day, so you’re curious to see how you feel tomorrow. I wonder if that’s how they are designed. Cynical me.
The first day of the plan was tough, so I wasn’t exactly “let’s go to the park!'” mummy. I was feeling guilty today, so as it was a lovely 22 degrees, we piled into the car and set off down the coast.
I haven’t been to Largs for years and wanted to introduce my kids to Nardini’s, the famous ice cream parlour on the sea front. Claudia slept in the back while Alice and I belted out whatever song came on the radio, windows down. Memories are made of this.
Of course, we arrive and Largs is heaving. Thousands of old people and children, it would appear. I guess Gran and Grandpa figured out a long time ago that a massive ice cream is eaxactly how to keep the grandkids quiet in the holidays.
We get parked finally and toddle down the promenade. Nardini’s always has massive queues and people streaming out with ice creams running down their wrists.
We soon joined them, my eyes flitting for a second over their 32 flavours of gorgeous, creamy Italian ice cream. A second. I was soon jolted back to reality by the cost of them. Two small scoops each for the girls, a flake in each, £5.60. Ka-ching!!!!
Feeling ever so virtuous, we head on home. It’s only 4pm and I am starving. I grab some nuts and olives when we get in and start cooking. Omelettes, toast and homemade sweet potato fries for the girls, salmon with chilli and lemon for me.
I’m using coconut oil for cooking on this plan which I was slightly wary of, but I seem to have hit on a good one, with no coconut taste at all. Alice is fascinated by this diet, which is a good thing as she is trying everything I’m eating and liking it. Long may that continue.
It is still very warm, so I cannot face a bath tonight. I opt just to soak my weary feet and give myself a pedicure instead. I feel just as relaxed.
Luckily, Argentina and the Netherlands are on hand to lull me to sleep.
What can I say? Like the Dutch, I missed the penalties.