My daughter just graduated from college. I drove from NM to CA with her two brothers to attend her graduation this past week. I was determined at the start to stay All Raw for the duration of the trip.
The first day on the road was great! Apples, bananas, grapefruit, tomatoes.
The second day I was feeling tired from all the driving and thought, gee, I haven’t had coffee since going raw, ONE cup won’t hurt. So…. I stopped at Starbucks. Did I get a small regular cup ‘o joe, black? Hell no. I guzzled down a venti mocha with whipped cream and extra chocolate goop on top.
The third day we arrived! It’s Santa Cruz, baby! Fruit trees in everyone’s yard! So exotic! A veritable raw paradise. Did I pick the pomelos and loquats from the yard of my daughter’s rented home? Hell, no. I ate: spaghetti, cake cake cake, more cake, potato salad, three-bean salad, bread bread bread bread, MORE coffee loaded with sugar and chocolate, FRIED FOOD! And that was BEFORE the graduation party!
The ride home was melancholy. Gotta have more coffee to stay awake! Oh yes, please, a danish with that coffee would be lovely…
Ugh. Yuck times a million. Here I am, the “morning after,” and I must have gained ten pounds in one week. I am bloated, breaking out, and probably smell but can’t tell because my nose is stuffed up. And my back hurts like hades.
I guess I realized that leaving my little protected umbrella of raw at home was much more difficult than I thought. It’s amazing how many little memories of food, of perceived needs we carry in those deep recesses of our minds. Coffee?! What the hell was I thinking?! It was an old pattern, though, and it resurfaced the moment I left town.
Boy, I will NEVER EVER do that again. Lesson learned.
Pass the watermelon, please. And any advice on how not to beat myself up so much for being such a SAD-a-holic would be most welcome.