There’s no way around it. I have to admit it. Like the weak willed jellyfish I am, I’ve become a banting sheep. I’ve eaten so much coconut over the past two weeks I’m like a human pina colada.
And the worst thing of all? I’M ENJOYING IT.
I’m sure you feel caught off guard, on the back foot, BETRAYED.
But it’s the truth. No matter how much I love myself I still want to look smokin’ at my wedding and the thought of the ‘off the cuff’ wedding photos looking like crap has installed a deep, dark, Old Testament fear in me.
Like my engagement photos.
I had * casually brushes lint off sleeve, adjusts sunglasses * a SUPER romantic engagement, and I love every moment of the memory of that night. But looking back at those photos… does not fill me with joy.
I don’t think I look like THAT. Normally, I think I look like THIS:
But those ‘in the moment’ photos are so horrendous it installed the fear of god in me. I did my same old dieting thing this year and lost some weight, but it was so achingly slow and my banting friends were looking so incredible I decided it was time to cave.
And into a cave of butter, cream, carb measurements, evangelical banting Facebook groups, heated debates about peas, and coconut oil I fell.
So yes. I’m banting.
And so is my fiance. The high fat, deliciously creamy food feels like a treat but I’ll admit, it was hard to stick to this weekend when a two of my bridesmaids were visiting from Cape Town. After a rough day at work my old habit of wanting to comfort eat kicked in and I sadly decided a block or two of dark chocolate wouldn’t be the WORST thing in the world. Rubbing your tears with dark chocolate isn’t nearly as satisfying as doing it with a bag of chips.
But the worst thing about banting? I can’t stop talking about it.