It doesn't seem to matter if my wonderful fiancee and I include some cheat meals here and there to appease the beast known as Whole 30. That evil, sadistic, greasy bastard still finds a way to mess with our heads.
Both my wonderful fiancee and I want to eat everything in sight, like a couple of hungry, hungry hippos. Or a vampire that hasn't drank blood in however long it takes them to get uber cranky and hangry. THAT'S WHERE WE ARE.
It's getting to my wonderful fiancee in a myriad of ways. She can't eat her beloved cheese. Enjoy her favorite Starbucks items. She's - and she'll be the first to admit it - a bit of a germophobe, and doesn't entirely trust our dishwasher, meaning she washes all dishes by hand. When cooking extravagant (by Whole 30 standards, though some stuff has been amazing) meals every night, the dishes pile up. Some nights, she's on her feet for at least two hours, cooking and cleaning. I'm allowed to help with drying the dishes and putting them up, but my wonderful fiancee's Celiac disease has left her in a position where she only trusts herself to get everything clean. This won't always be the case, but it is for the moment.
A lot of our mental anguish comes down to the age-old adage that PEOPLE WANT WHAT THEY CAN'T HAVE. This diet is so stupid restrictive, my wonderful fiancee and I are dying a little on the inside as time goes on. It stinks, we hate it, but on the other hand...
I'm down seven pounds since we started Whole 30 almost two weeks ago.