After that responsible and nourishing breakfast this morning, I went to target (I’m an incorrigible home decorator). It should be noted that I was hungry five minutes after putting my spoon down since dietary changes make me ravenous and I’ve finally decided to woman up and let the transition happen without 4000 extra daily cashew butter calories. (Can’t believe I did that.) ANYWAY So I get my curtains, and while I’m waiting in line to break the bank a delightful smell wafts towards my nose. Who decided to put a pizza hut inside the target right by the check out?? Cruel. As if it weren’t bad enough having the Old Country Buffet next door, which I would have to WALK PAST. My candida diet has been flagrantly broken inside their doors.
This time the buffet sent tendrils of steam from fresh biscuits to wrap themselves around my body while the smells of pot roast, sausages, and cornbread hooked me by the nostrils and began reeling me in like a fish.
I don’t know how, but I tore my body free. Giving in would have broken two promises: the first being to kill the candida, the second being not to eat lunch until four hours after breakfast.
Then, THEN, after a very roundabout route, I found myself stranded for 45 minutes inside an ice cream store, where they MAKE THEIR OWN ICE CREAM.
You know the smell of inside an ice cream store? The anticipation that builds as you wait to curl your tongue around the straw of a frappe or put your lips to a towering jimmy-covered cone magically frozen yet soft? You probably haven’t REALLY experienced the smell unless you’ve been in such a store, and not been permitted to eat ANY of the frozen dripping sweets.
And I didn’t. Go me.
I came home and had a truly delicious lunch. It’s odd, because candida diet food is singular in the fact that it is totally delicious and hits the spot, but your body just doesn’t crave it ahead of time. Once you have a fork full of lettuce with tomatoes, pecans, olive oil, salt and pepper it’s like “ahhhh, I could eat this forever.” It’s just not addictive at all.
Sugar is my crack cocaine. So is bread. And milk. And everything I am not even slightly allowed to eat.
I also made plantains with coconut oil, cinnamon and lavender. I’m not really 100% sure I’m allowed to eat plantains, but I’m allowed to eat sweet potatoes, and the internet didn’t agree one way or the other, so….
Anyway, that was pretty great, too. And wicked filling, because I ate both salad and plantains slowly and deliberately.
Here’s a photo of it cooking:
Anyway. I rock.
Gastrointestinally Challenged 