Yep, I just used a sports term. It was essentially clickbait to lure people who know how athletically-challenged I am to this post. So now that it has served it’s purpose (hello, non-habitual, curious readers!), I will begin an utterly non-athletic post.
Today I am going to teach you a valuable lesson: how to avoid becoming estranged from your grandmother when you turn down her homemade Christmas cookies. You may be asking, “Why do I need to know this?” Well, let me explain.
I am no longer practicing a vegan diet. Now before you begin thinking that I have failed my goal, let me explain myself. I originally began my vegan diet as a means of both completing one of my twenty-one goals (to go on a stringent diet for thirty days) and to make up for last year, when I failed to go more than six days as a vegan. I entered into this challenge with a heavy dose of optimism, and I end it, after eleven days, with the knowledge that I am doing what is best for me.
Vegan! Yes, after much consideration, I have decided that veganism will be the stringent diet that I am going to follow for thirty days. This goal is very exciting to me, because I have been wanting to push myself to try a radical departure from my typical diet, and I believe that a veganism is about as radical as I could get (aside from attempting a breatharian diet).
When I came to the end of my year of not eating dessert, many people asked me what I would do next. Some worried that I would begin gorging on every bit of dessert in a ten mile radius, and others worried that I would continue abstaining from dessert (seriously, some people acted like it would be a bad thing to continue refraining from eating something that I will admit that I am addicted to). I too wondered what I would do for my next challenge. I wanted to do something that pushed me even further than the dessert fast had done, so I decided to complete twenty-one challenges instead of only one.
I have always enjoyed eating, and can remember how even as a young teenager I would binge on food. One memory that sticks out is of a time when I snuck into our laundry room to eat ice cream that was in the freezer. I was so scared of getting in trouble for eating something that I had been told not to touch that I did not even use a spoon to eat the ice cream. Instead, I scooped it out with my hands, as if I was a starving man who was raiding a dumpster. I wish that the stolen ice cream was an isolated situation, but that was not the case.