Orientation Overload
The first look over our food plan materials did not feel so empowering. It felt chaotic. So many details. So many things to remember. Supplements and drops. Protein rotations. Approved and Unlimited Vegetables. Portion sizes. allowables & dis-allowables. It felt like trying to assemble furniture without a diagram--except the diagram was also a list of restrictions.
My first thought wasn't hunger.
It was: This feels complicated.
And then, almost immediately: What if I mess this up?
I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I don't like gray areas. I like clear instructions and clean execution. Seeing page after page of do's and don't made my brain flash straight to, "Can I actually do this?"
Underneath the anxiety was something more solid--this wasn't optional. I wanted to do it right. For Steve. And for myself.
I don't handle chaos well. But I do handle structure. And I've learned that when something feels complicated, it usually means it hasn't been organized yet.
The Planning
Meal prep can feel overwhelming at first.
So instead of trying to absorb every rule at once, I did something very un-dramatic. I made a weekly plan. One week. One grocery list. One prep session. Suddenly the mountain of instructions became Monday through Sunday.
Complicated things calm down when they're written in a plan.
- Assigning proteins to specific days
- Labeling with reusable bags
- Pre-weighing proteins and vegetables
- Creating a quick-cook cheat sheet
Finding gentle, zero-calorie-approved dressings and spices that add flavor without rebellion
Once the food was assigned to days, it stopped feeling restrictive. It felt scheduled.
But something interesting happened when I stopped trying to hold everything in my head.
I started building small supports instead of relying on memory. Digital reminders on my phone for the supplements. A few 'Alexa' prompts so I wouldn't forget prep or coordinated cooking times. A weekly menu that lived outside of my brain instead of inside it.
I bought a digital scale so there was no guessing. Guessing fuels anxiety. Measuring removes it.
I even used a planning assistant (thank you, modern technology#ChatGPT) to help map out weekly menus, protein rotations, cooking times, and seasoning ideas. Instead of reinventing the wheel each week, I had guidance on how long to bake fish, how to roast vegetables, and how to make chicken taste different without adding anything off-plan.
Food Prep
Of all the food plan pieces, the actual food prep is probably where most people imagine the meltdown happening. I did. It certainly looked that way at first glance.
But prep, like everything else, got easier once it became a routine instead of a decision.
After grocery day (usually the same day), I have what I now call my "prep time." It's not glamorous. It's not Instagram-worthy. It's just a block of time where I turn on my favorite Spotify playlist and get to work.
I cut, weigh, and measure all of our proteins. Each portion goes into a reusable ziplock bag, labeled and sealed. Once everything is measured correctly, it goes straight into the freezer. No guessing later. No extended mental math at dinnertime. Maybe 1 - 1.5 hours of prep to keep things organized for an entire week/two, and a very quick and simple routine when it's time to cook.
The Daily Thaw
Each morning, I check our weekly menu and pull out the designated proteins for lunch and dinner so that they can thaw. That single small step removes the 5:00 p.m. panic.
Vegetable Simplicity: At each mealtime, vegetables are prepped fresh--quick wash, quick chop, quick weigh. Because the proteins are already handled, the vegetables feel simple instead of overwhelming.
When the measuring and portioning are done ahead of time, the actual cooking feels almost...ordinary. And ordinary is good. Ordinary is sustainable.
There was a time when I would have looked at all this measuring and said, "Absolutely not." But structure has a funny way of turning effort into calm.
Once the reminders are set, the proteins are assigned to days, and the vegetables are weighed, the chaos is quieted. It has stopped feeling like a complicated rulebook and started feeling like a schedule. And one which is now far easier than my previous 'fly by the seat of my pants' cooking approach.
From Following to Flavor
We began this food plan thinking it was 42 days of compliance.
Measured proteins. Weighed vegetables. No dairy. No sugar. No improvising.
Follow the rules. Get the result.
But somewhere between silicone containers and oven-roasted chicken, something is shifting.
I realized we are no longer just "following a plan."
I/we are learning how food works.
One of my favorite guilty pleasures has always been watching Food Network cooking shows. The clock is ticking, the ingredients are random, and somehow these chefs calmly say things like, "I'll balance the acid with the fat and add a textural element for contrast."
Meanwhile, I'm here thinking, "I have carrots. Should I microwave them again?"
In an effort to better understand flavor profiles, my curiosity led me to purchase the book Salt Fat Acid Heat, and suddenly I understood something profound:
Flavor is not magic.
It's a structure.
The 42-day plan may have been the entry point.
But what we are building now isn't temporary discipline.
It's fluency.
I'm learning how acid can brighten steamed broccoli.
How a drizzle of quality olive oil can replace the comfort I once looked for in butter.
How herbs can do the work salt used to do.
And that feels less like dieting...
and more like becoming someone new with a sustainable lifestyle.
SjoDry and Planning
