The Whole 30 Experience-Day 3: Silence Your Cellphones

I wasn’t worried about my Whole30 experience when it came to dates and hangouts, and other social occasions. I can deal with that. I can charm or bullshit my way through. Do you know what I was really worried about, though? The damn movies.

I probably see 100+ movies in the theater every year. I’m one of those people that still goes to see EVERYTHING, even in the age of Netflix and Hulu and Disney Plus and all the other streaming services. I have that AMC Theaters app on my phone, and the service where you can see three movies a week for like $25 a month. So, in December alone I went to see:

• Uncut Gems (awesome)
• The Rise of Skywalker (better than The Last Jedi, don’t @ me) twice — once with friends, once on a failed date
• Cats (don’t ask)
• Little Women (perfectly fine, but I don’t get the hype)
• Bombshell (meh)
• A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (actually damn good)
• Dark Waters (underrated movie of the year)
• Knives Out (3rd favorite movie of the year, saw it 3x in theaters)

Okay, so that’s … well … about a whole day spent in the theaters in total. Jesus. Even I didn’t think it would be that much. Whatever. Oscar season.

Anyways, I’ve probably averaged one movie a week ever since I was about five years old when my dad first took me to see a revival of Smokey and the Bandit in the old run-down retro cinema in Enfield, Connecticut. In every one of those movies, I’ve had something unhealthy to snack on during those two hours.

In the early days, it was cans of Coke and Jax smuggled in under coats; when my dad and uncle were taking me to the movies, they used to drop bottles of Busch in my coat to smuggle in. I looked like Marge after the candy convention. One time at a showing of Starship Troopers in Vermont, they rolled out of my coat and down to the screen. Good times.

I gave up drinking regular Coke, but the shitty theater food habit stayed — even during my occasional bouts of eating right ventures. Smuggled-in Cheetos and Chex-Mix and movie theater popcorn (though even I won’t put butter on it) and those goddamn Half-and-Half iced teas and Sno-Caps and Buncha Crunches and even Coke Zero for an unfortunate period. Sometimes beers, too — I’m convinced that Batman vs. Superman was at least palatable to us because we’d finished off two giant bombers of Trillium IPA in the theater. That was an interesting rewatch.

No matter what, the movies came with something unhealthy. It was very natural. Very nostalgic. Very safe and happy for me. The rest of the world might be burning down, but I’ve got the movies and carbohydrates and processed sugar. I can rely on that.

So what the hell happens when that orgy of movie theater goodness collides head-on with the Magneto’s jail cell that is Whole 30?

As it turns out-like everything on this, I adapted. Last night I had to get out of the goddamn house. I’d been trapped in there all day writing, and one of my roommates was hocking up a lung in the bathroom; I think she’s smoked so much pot her insides are just a turn-of-the-century factory in Newcastle.

Movies, as always, are my refuge. The Brattle Theater here in Harvard is a charming, old-school place that shows classic features and midnight specials and all sorts of cool shit. Last night they offered salvation. A Marx Brothers double feature. Animal Crackers at 5, Coconauts at 7.

I’d eaten before I left for the movies- turkey tenderloins, sweet potatoes, onions, peppers. I felt full before I took off for the 45-minute walk to Harvard, but some of the old cravings came in right as I found the little theater.

Well, fuck.

The good thing, though — it’s Cambridge. There’s always a Whole30-friendly market within spitting distance. Next to the Brattle, there’s a sit-down cafeteria/food market full of sushi and sandwiches and all sorts of nuts and berries and seeds and everything else Trump voters probably think dirty libruls at Harvard eat (well, when they’re right, they’re right). I snagged one of those chocolate chip RXBars and Spindthrift sparkling water and went in armed to the gills.

You know what? It was fine. After about a half-hour in the movies and about 100 Groucho one-liners, I demolished the RXBar and downed the Spindthrift, and I was completely okay. It satiated that desire I had to have something, anything to consume during those two hours of darkness and entertainment without blowing up my Whole30 like the Death Star. I walked back happy and light through the beauty of Harvard Square and felt like I was Tom Hanks dancing on that piano.

And you know what? For me, that’s a blockbuster success.

RANDOM PETER KING STUFF.

• Okay, first, BIG NEWS. Chiptole has a Whole 30 dish! I can’t tell you how important this is. This WILL BE my dish to eat when I’m in Downtown Crossing or Davis Square and absolutely, positively, have to dine out on something. Solid choice, Chiptole. I am going to put at least one of your employee’s kids through college. Or at least line some of your stockholders’ pockets. Yay, capitalism!
• On that — I think I’m on #TeamBernie for 2020. I think I have to be, given that weak-ass response from all the other Democratic candidates to this Iran shit-heap. I gotta do it. Sorry, Team Warren. I’m jumping ship.
• Oh, so you want a TOP TEN LIST of movies for 2019? Well, okay. Here goes:
  1. Parasite
  2. The Farewell
  3. Knives Out
  4. Marriage Story
  5. Uncut Gems
  6. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
  7. Ready or Not
  8. Midsommar
  9. The Irishman
  10. The Lighthouse
  Note that I haven’t seen 1917 yet, so that might sneak in here.
• On a personal note: I’ve been blown away by all the nice notes and things that people have sent to me about these stories, along with all the advice from other people that have done this. Thank you so much and keep it coming. I’m sure I’ll need it :)

27 days to go…