So there I was, staring at a grocery aisle filled with ten different types of milk, holding a half-gallon container while trying to decode the ingredients list. I squinted, flipping it around, and then whipped out my phone to look up “carrageenan.” My brow furrowed as I typed, not worried so much about its safety but rather if it fit within the Whole30 guidelines.
Choosing to embark on the Whole30 diet felt like a heavy burden. Just a year ago, I was relying on food stamps to provide for myself and my two daughters. Since breaking free from government assistance, I had faced countless empty cupboards and drained bank accounts. I was scraping by just enough to rise above the income limits, but I still had to compensate for the $300 in food benefits I had previously received. The foods deemed “approved” by Whole30 were far removed from what I used to buy on a food stamp budget, which didn’t allow for high-priced produce or fancy ingredients. I had never even thought about buying ghee before; I had to look it up just to add it to my shopping list.
Whole30 is a strict “clean eating” plan that aims to eliminate sugar from your diet. It’s intense, much like paleo or keto, and requires a significant investment of time, money, and commitment. I joined a Facebook group for support and followed various Instagram accounts for recipe inspiration. I even purged my pantry of non-approved food items, giving some to my neighbor and tossing the rest into the trash, doing my best to ignore the part of me that remembered the hunger pangs from my days of scraping by.
On my shopping trip, I filled my cart with kale, chard, sweet potatoes, beets, turnips, and rutabaga. As I examined the bulk spices, I noticed two women nearby with similar carts, squinting at labels just like I was. When I reached the nut milk section, a little treat for myself, the two women were still there, contemplating the various options.
“Is vanilla extract okay?” one of them asked. That was my cue. “Hey, are you part of the Whole30 group on Facebook?” I asked, and they nodded, laughing nervously. I didn’t care; I had to know: “Is carrageenan okay?”
“Yes, I think so!” one replied while the other consulted her phone. Soon enough, we discovered that No, carrageenan is not Whole30 approved.
The store was bustling with the usual crowd of fit, mostly white women in yoga pants meticulously selecting apple cider vinegar drinks or seaweed chips. Everything on my list was priced at $5 or more. I even had to ask someone for help locating a bottle of coconut-based amino acids.
By the time I got home, guilt consumed me. I had just dropped $167. “Don’t you feel a bit privileged doing this?” I texted a friend, who responded with a shrug emoji.
An idea struck me: I could write a piece on making Whole30 accessible for people on a food stamp budget! I could track my spending and cooking time! I could show how to make Whole30 work for everyone! But then the social justice warrior in me slapped me back to reality. I had become the person I once criticized.
As I spent hours chopping root vegetables, cooking sausage, and massaging kale for meal prep, I realized how absurd my earlier idea was. I might as well have been Gwyneth Paltrow, posting a photo of the five limes she bought for her Food Stamp Challenge.
I became aware of the large group of privileged folks who tell those struggling to put food on the table that healthy eating is both affordable and easy. I had forgotten what it was like to work full-time for minimal pay in a physically demanding job. I once kept peanut butter bars in my pockets to stave off hunger while I cleaned houses.
For me and my daughter, our food options boiled down to peanut butter, hard-boiled eggs, and carbs from pancakes, bread, and rice. The mental fatigue of poverty is real, and it impacts cognitive function. I needed quick meals that didn’t require a lot of thought.
My ability to attempt this diet wasn’t just about the money; it hinged on having a smartphone for research, the mental energy to plan, and a support group. Access to a grocery store that stocked necessary items, a car to transport them, and a functional kitchen were all critical, too.
During the 19 days I managed to stick with the diet, I spent about $175 weekly, and each prep session took three to four hours. As my body adjusted to the lack of sugar, I faced headaches and sleepless nights. I could still work, but only because my home office was just a few feet from my kitchen, allowing me quick access to snacks.
For anyone with limited resources, considering a diet like this would be nearly impossible. We need to focus on survival, not just living better. And in promoting “clean” eating, we risk implying that those who don’t follow these diets are eating “dirty” foods, which only adds to the stigma faced by those in poverty at their dinner tables.
If you’re looking for support, check out the free sperm donor matching group at Make a Mom Facebook Group. For an innovative at-home insemination option, visit Make a Mom and see how at-home insemination works. They even have a fantastic intracervical insemination syringe kit combo to get you started. Plus, if you’re looking to boost fertility, check out their fertility booster for men. For more insights on pregnancy and home insemination, Progyny Blog is an excellent resource!
In summary, my journey through Whole30 opened my eyes to the challenges many low-income individuals face when it comes to healthy eating. It’s not just about making different choices but having the resources, time, and support to do so.
Leave a Reply