Arbonne 30 Days To Healthy Living Review

I was gifted this program, but the review is impartial

I got to trial the Arbonne 30 Days to Healthy Living program in November and as with everything I do, I'm going to share it all with you. Because oversharing is my thing. As with any review it's straight up truth, so you'll find me talking about things I loved... and the things that I didn't.

My consultant, the lovely Angie, contacted me on a day when I'd just inhaled a standard Glow-sized serving of chocolate. Which translates to an entire block. Because why buy a Mars bar for $1.50 when I can get an entire block for $2.50, amiright? 

I looked down at my gut, and though I'm feeling pretty good about what my body is doing lately (all that martial arts is making me stronger and my mindfulness training is helping with chronic pain), this belly fat that hangs over my pants is more than just a muffin top. It's a bit of a bakery top. It means my hip to waist ratio is all buggered and that is associated with a higher risk of heart attack and stroke. 

With smudgy chocolate fingers I typed out my reply. "I'd like to try it. Because something has to change."

I wasn't just the block of chocolate. Because in the scheme of things, one block of chocolate isn't an instant heart attack. But one of those a day? I'd also buy two packets of mud cake truffles so that I could finish off one before I got home and then look better when I shared the remaining packet with others. I was eating drive-through chips every few days and finishing half a jar of Nutella in one sitting. I just food shamed myself. Oops.

I received my goodies and got started with the help of Angie and the online support group. I was cutting out alcohol, dairy, sugar, gluten, caffeine, and as far as I was concerned, anything delicious. They're not cut out forever, just the 30 Days until you reintroduce them and see how you feel.

If I'm on meal replacement shakes, you better believe I'm drinking them from a skull glass 💀💀💀 #30daystohealthyliving

A post shared by G L O W (aka Trae) (@finding_my_glow) on Nov 5, 2017 at 3:04pm PST

On day one I added the shake powder to water and it tasted freaking horrible. I'd read so much about the program and everyone raved about the shakes tasting good. I'm certain they all lied. I choke down as much of it as I can without gagging. Not the best start, but at least it was a pretty skull glass. 

By the late afternoon of day one I had a raging sugar withdrawal headache but hadn't murdered anyone so I thought I'd have a Fizz Stick. I have been known to vomit my guts up when headaches get bad, and as I sipped on the drink and noted that it in fact tasted quite pleasant... bleeeuuuurrrrgghhh. Yep. Spewed up my first Fizz Stick. Nice. 

In the evening I was craving a cuppa as I usually have one in bed before I go to sleep, so I grabbed a herbal tea and washed down some paracetamol. 

Safe to say, day one kinda sucked balls. But I wasn't hungry, so that is a plus.

Day two was much better (don't panic, I'm not going through every day in detail) by the simple swap of water to almond milk in my smoothies. It tasted less revolting, but it still didn't taste good. It wasn't until day four or five that I was knocking back the smoothies with ease and actually enjoying the taste.

I'm pretty sure I was so used everything being coated in a fuck tonne of sugar that the smoothies tasted like cardboard in comparison until my tastebuds had gotten over the initial assault. And get over it they did. I stopped adding berries and the like to the smoothies and had them plain. 

I was hoping these 30 Days would be a way to reset my thinking, my tastebuds, my habits... hell, reset my whole bloody brain if possible. 

By the end of week one, I'd lost 3kg, wasn't feeling hungry, and felt like I had more energy. 

In week two I was confused over the nutritional content of the shakes and was asking questions all over the place about the sugar percentage. Now I'm no sugar nazi (OK I am a bit), but I didn't understand the whole don't eat sugar thing if the shakes had sugar in them. A whopping 20% sugar, at that. 

I was shown articles on cane sugar and it's nutritional benefits; claims it was good for everyone from pregnant women to diabetics because of the essential nutrients in it. But, um, newsflash, you know that white sugar you use at home? 100% cane sugar. I'll wait why you go check. It's just milled in to a finer powder, that's all. And if you're claiming that cane sugar helps with all sorts of things, then, well why am I meant to be cutting out sugar for the month? It made no sense to me. 

There was lots of talking back and forth and I have the feeling I was not very popular in the private Facebook group with the other people doing the 30 Days. A lot of my fellow 30 Day-ers seemed really in to woo, and that's fine, but I'm more of a science gal myself. My consultant was quick to help out and was very gracious, even when I was ready to quit.

It became obvious that other people doing the 30 Days didn't have any idea on how to read nutritional labels. One participant even told me that because the ingredients didn't add up to 100 grams I couldn't do a percentage calculation. Umm, yes I can. Or, just quietly, I could look in the very next column where they've done it for you in grams per 100 grams. Perhaps one way to improve the program would be information on understanding labels. If you can't read a nutritional panel then there is no way you can figure out what is going in to your body. Don't rely on the marketing, the claims of "fat free" and "5 stars", actually READ the label and find out exactly what is in it. 

By the end of week two I was liking the way I was feeling. I wasn't needing a nap every day (still needed them sometimes because of some other stuff going on with my iron and B12 - don't read that link if you're eating, BTW), and I was able to focus more. I had only lost an additional 1kg, but I wasn't here for rapid weight loss, I was trying to jump start my food awareness.

I found myself craving sugar again in week three. All dried fruit is off the table for the 30 Days, but I bent the rules. Because if eating two dates is going to satisfy my craving and I can move on and not obsess about chocolate until the point where I crack and eat a whole block, then I'm going to do it.

Week three also included some meals out, so I tried my hardest to make choices that would fall in to the majority of the 30 Days rules. At home I was cooking as many of the meals on the plan as I could - I told the kids that I was cutting out some food for a while to see how my body reacted, because they are impressionable and as much as I would like to shift a few kilos, as far as they are concerned, I love everything about my body and THEY love my squishy tummy (to the point where they like to pull up my shirt and rub their faces on it). Teaching body positivity is hard, yo!

Week three was probably the trickiest because I was just bloody over it! But I buckled down and tried as much as I could to keep to the rules. Well, the majority of them anyway. I had to eat later at night than was recommended because my martial arts classes don't finish until 8pm and I'm not eating before them or I will chunder everywhere. And that's what is good about it, that you can be flexible with it if you like, or 100% committed if you are a hard and fast rules person.

Week four was the home stretch and I did have a sense of "this is it, you're nearly there!". People were starting to notice I had lost a little bit of weight, and that of course is a great motivator, a massive "SEE, IT IS WORKING!".

At the end of it all, I had lost 6kg, curbed my sugar cravings, and I had gotten much better at actually listening to my body's hunger and thirst signals.

But what about now? What about after Christmas and New Year and OMG THE STRESS OF BUYING A HOUSE?

I have reintroduced all the foods, and nothing made me feel bloated or unwell, so I'm happy about that (any icky feelings could have signified that I was sensitive or intolerant to something). I am pretty sure my stomach shrunk because I'm still not as hungry as I used to be, and I get fuller quicker.

I haven't stepped back on the scales because I am generally not a fan of them, preferring "non scale victories". I can tell you my clothes are looser (the bum in my jeans is baggy af), people are commenting that I'm looking slimmer, and I feel pretty damn good.

Food wise, I am back on the Coke Zero, because I don't do drugs or smoke so I gotta have a vice, OK? And I still crave sugar... but I don't give in to it anywhere near as much as I used to. Some cake for morning tea yesterday meant I was full until after 8pm and a massive training session. That is unheard of previously!

I've also worked on my portion sizes a lot, because as a card carrying member of the clean plate brigade, I was always wanting to finish everything served up after having it drilled in to me that leaving something was wasteful.

Overall, it helped me reassess what food I was using to fuel my body. How much food I was consuming, and why - I was very used to eating because it was "lunch time" as opposed to eating when I was hungry.

Is the 30 Days to Healthy Living for you? Well it all depends on your own goals and priorities. For me, it was enough to kick start my better eating choices so it did help me find my glow. I'll leave you with my final likes and dislikes about the program:

LIKES:

• Supportive nature of the Facebook group
• Motivational posts in the Facebook group
• The taste of the shakes (eventually ha!)
• Most of the meal plan and recipes
• 100% money back guarantee
• Weekly call from Angie to check how I was going
• There was no hard sell to sign up again or join as a seller

DISLIKES:

• Lack of peer-reviewed science based nutrition information
• Promoting of untrue nutritional claims in the Facebook group (alkaline diets changing the pH of the blood etc)
• The taste of the Greens Balance vegetable concentrate

You can contact Perth Arbonne consultant Angie here.

Would you do meal replacement shakes?

OMG you've put on so much weight... what happened?

"Oh my god, Glow, you've put on so much weight... what happened? Oh, you probably don't want to hear that... but what happened?"

These were the EXACT words that greeted me a few weeks back when Bobbin and I shuffled off to a morning of stopping my child putting crap in her mouth at playgroup.

I'd like to say that I immediately had some witty retort but instead I just mumbled something about life being hectic and "oh Bobbin is getting too close to the heater, excuse me". She was half a room away, but it was the best exit strategy I had available, and one that I will continue to use, I'm sure.

I avoided the woman who said it for the rest of play time and even left early because AWKWARD.

When the only pants that fit you have an elastic waistband and your muffin top is now a whole fucking bakery top, it's a bit obvious you've put on weight. But I was absolutely gobsmacked that it was said (before she even said hello), and since it was only a day after the whole baby in the car incident, my already fractured confidence was further shattered. It's not like I didn't know it had happened, but kick me while I'm down, whydontcha?

I was under the (obviously mistaken) impression that it's just not polite to mention that someone you haven't seen for a while is now a fatty boombah. Because a) RUDE, b) what business is it of anyones? and c) REALLY FUCKING RUDE.

I asked the followers of my Facebook page what I should do when I was going back to playgroup...

"Oh my god, you've become such a bitch! What happened?" was quite popular, as was ignoring her. I was so anxious and I played different scenarios over and over in my head all morning and even considered just never returning. But I rocked up with Exit Strategy, err, I mean Bobbin, ready to see what happened and maybe, just maybe, be an adult.

Breathe. You'll be fine.

She waved hello, with a warm, genuine smile.

I gave her a close lipped, raised eyebrow smile. You know the one. The one that says either "oh, we're friends, are we?" or "I think I have something in my teeth". I'm not super proud of myself but I was panicking a little.

After a while she made a beeline for me, and asked if I was OK because I seemed anxious.

Aw geez, don't be nice! I'm trying to be indignant and maintain a sense of superiority. That just won't work if you're not a cold bitch.

I brushed her off (I'm really not good at the whole conflict thing) and a few minutes later she came over again, expressing concern that I was so stressed that she could see it from across the room. Here I was thinking I was acting cool and aloof when in actual fact I was showing signs of being seriously unhinged.

Oh great, you're fucking lovely and concerned. How am I meant to be cranky at you now?!

So I did it. I acted like an adult.

I told her calmly and carefully why I was the Queen of Awkward. I let her know what she had said, and that it had hurt my feelings that she would rather point out my weight than talk about ANYTHING else. As soon as I said "hurt my feelings" I was kicking myself. I felt like I was seven. I had rehearsed this and used a thesaurus full of words because that totally makes me feel smarter. Insulted. Annoyed. Offended. Affronted. Antagonized. But no. Hurt fucking feelings.


She was absolutely mortified and so genuinely apologetic. She thanked me for being honest with her and you could have blown me down with a feather, you know, if I wasn't so fat. She had wanted to start a conversation on her own weight gain and that is how it popped in to her head to start it. I hadn't noticed her weight gain (which is probably indicative of my observational skills rather than any "I see inner beauty only" bullshit), but she explained to me she'd been diagnosed with a thyroid condition and promptly diagnosed me with one too.

I diagnose myself with cake. And zero self control. And poor time management. And chocolate. And binge eating.

I'm disappointed in myself for eating my feelings (and oh boy, they are delicious) and not dealing with my problems. I'm annoyed that I was so healthy this time last year - a great weight, a great BMI and a great place mentally. I lost all my baby weight then put it all back on, one Nutella croissant at a time, and at the same time went a little crazy.

I'm slowly coming back from the crazy by focusing solely on my family (and thus neglecting the blog and what feels like a billion emails), taking medication and I've even started exercising. It'll figure itself out soon. Well, it better. Otherwise I'm going to need to buy new clothes. But hey, at least I don't go around pointing out if people have gotten fat.

How would you deal with this situation?

How Not To Ruin Your Marriage: Lesson One

Welcome to the first in an ongoing series of How Not To Ruin Your Marriage posts, complete with button. Yay for buttons!

Being married for all of four years of course makes me an expert in such matters, just as being a mother for a millisecond means I can give advice for all sorts of parenting dilemmas, and a ten day trip to Thailand means I'm qualified to preach Buddhism.

In today's lesson we're going to learn how not to speak to your wife when it comes to weight and shape, with an example from the delicious yet at times dickheaded, Map Guy, plucked straight out of our Easter weekend.

Read. Cringe. Enjoy. Laugh. But most of all, share this with your husbands and partners so that they may learn.
___ . . . ___ . . . ___

Me: I'm always going to have a bit of a pot belly, I've had a baby, half of it's stretched skin

Map Guy: Yeah, just look at Miranda Kerr and Heidi Klum's pot bellies... oh wait.

Me: *DEATH STARE*

Map Guy: What I meant was...

Me: *DEATH STARE*

Map Guy: They're obviously genetic freaks...

Me: Lemme get you a shovel so you can dig that hole a little deeper

Map Guy: Um.... I love you?

Me: Fuck off and die

What would you have done? Grounds for justifiable homicide?

If you'd like your idiocy to be included in a How Not To Ruin Your Marriage lesson email glowless@wheresmyglow.com. Where's My Glow doesn't discriminate between idiots, so you don't have to actually be married or even straight to submit.

Yo Mama So Fat

I was having such a good day today. See that little word there? Was. As in, it started well and now it sucks.

My Mum came over and played with Tricky while I did a few things around the house, we went to the shops for a bit and then met up with my Dad at a cafe for a free lunch.

It was free because we'd gone there for my birthday and I'd ordered a pizza that had olives on it and when it came and I bit in to it I bloody nearly broke my tooth because the olives hadn't been pitted. Seriously who puts non-pitted olives on a pizza? Anyways, they gave us a freebie to make up for it.

We're still obviously in the good part of the day here.

So while I was on a high of free carbohydrates and because I had my parents to watch Tricky I decided to have a massage.

And, oh, how things can turn so quickly. It went a little like this:

Tiny little masseuse lady: What you want?

Glowless: Back, neck and shoulder? Can you fit me in?

Tiny little masseuse lady: Yeah we got spot. How long?

Glowless: Just half an hour.

Tiny little masseuse lady (looking me up and down): But you pregnant, yes?

Glowless (wishing the floor would swallow me whole, or just swallow my ass): Um, no.

Tiny little masseuse lady: OK come through

Yep. Not pregnant. Just fat. Niiiice.

In my late teens I was with my boss when she asked a coworker when her baby was due. She wasn't pregnant either. Seeing the crushed look on her face that day, the look she tried so much to hide, made me swear I would never ask someone if they were pregnant. NEVER. I would hesitate to ask even if I could see their baby crowning and there was a midwife telling me to move out of her way.

You just don't do it.

So it has come as a timely reminder that yes, I am fat. And I should do something about it... right after I eat this tub of icecream to make myself feel better.

Has anyone asked you if you were pregnant when you weren't? Or is just me that has a lardass?

____________________________________________________________

Meet Glowless (and her fat bottom) at the Aussie Bloggers Conference thanks to HealthyChart and Baby Goes Retro

I don't think you're ready for this jelly

Early on in my pregnancy I started to rub my belly, not because I had any real sense of attachment to the growing bub yet (he was still quite alien looking at that point) but because my swelling tum could easily be mistaken for flab and short of wearing a shirt that said “Not fat, pregnant” it was the best thing I could think of to make myself feel less frumpy. I'd lean back, stick out my tum and rub it, hoping that the people walking past didn't think I was nursing a stomach full of Hungry Jack's (in reality I'm sure no one walking past looked at me or even cared).

As time wore on and I could no longer be mistaken for a prize heifer the belly rubbing became affectionate. Most of the time I wouldn't even realise I was doing it. It became second nature to place my hands on the little shelf that had developed and give it a little pat, even talk to it. I was bonding with Tricky (even if he didn't know it) each time I did it. When Hubby would touch my belly I would love it, especially if he could feel Tricky's kicks or hiccups.

But now? Tricky is out and the majority of the tum is gone, but there is still quite a bit of jelly belly action going on - and I don't mean the yummy flavoured jelly bean variety. This itself is not my problem – I'm fully aware that it can take a looong time to get back in to your pre-baby jeans and some women never do. The problem is the habit of rubbing it is still there so I am now affectionately rubbing my verandah of stretched skin. Highly attractive. I'm just waiting for someone to ask me when I'm due... “No I'm not pregnant, I'm just patting my own flab.”

Got milk? Got munchies!

Everyone knows that pregnant women get cravings and the more bizarre the food combination the better. Other than two weeks of wanting a cheeseburger for breakfast, lunch and dinner I didn't really have any “I MUST EAT THIS NOW OR I WILL DIE” cravings that I'd heard other people talk about. The ones where you have to send your partner to the service station at 2:00am to buy up half the store only to be asleep by the time he comes home, tired as a dog. But now I'm experiencing a different type of food craving – of the I MUST EAT EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE NOW OR I WILL DIE” variety.

Breast milk takes a lot of calories to produce and the hunger I'm feeling is overwhelming. Heaven forbid I skip a meal because, oh I don't know, there is a screaming child needing my attention, boy do I know about it! No food is safe around me, even the healthy stuff that tastes horrible is inhaled instantly the moment I set eyes on it. On a side note it is very strange to be gorging myself on every available piece of food and be losing weight at the same time – whilst I know it's just decreasing blood volume and all that jazz, it's still pretty cool.

My night time routine now involves catering not only for Tricky's hunger, but my own. Before bed I get ready in the usual PJ's, brushing of teeth way but now there is a final step before snuggling down in to my pillows... I have to restock my bedside table, or as I now refer to it, the snack bar. Muesli bars, fun size Milky Ways, bananas, sultanas and more. Each time after Tricky has had his feed and is settled back to sleep the real feast begins! I try to be really quiet so as not to wake Hubby but it's a task I'm failing miserably at – it's just like opening a packet of chips when you're in the cinema during a really quiet bit in the movie, you know the packet doesn't really make that much noise but in the silence it is DEAFENING! So the crumple and crackle of my muesli bar wrapper, not to mention the munching and crunching of the muesli bar itself, are adding to Hubby's sleep deprivation. I could go to the kitchen but it's winter and unless the bed is on fire I'm not getting out – why be hungry and cold?

I did try eating at the same time I fed Tricky, but felt guilty when I looked down to see his little head covered in crumbs and then felt even worse when I was picking them off and eating them and realised I looked just like a mother chimp picking off lice. Perhaps it is my punishment for wondering if Tricky would look like a monkey when he was born?

How did you handle the breastfeeding munchies?

A big FAT mind your own business!

Today I was at my local shopping centre, minding my own business doing my famous duck impersonation (waddling) from one end of the place to the other when I passed one of those temporary stalls in the mall. Actually passing it would have been fine – I tried to, you see, but a man from the stall stood in front of me so that I would have to stop... now I don't like being accosted at the best of times, let alone when I'm 700 weeks pregnant with a dodgy hip that decided today was the day to up the ante in the pain stakes. If you are a mall-seller feel free to offer me a sample, ask if I'm interested or try to wave me over – but if I say no or shake my head politely and you decide to BLOCK MY PATH, you better watch it. I chose to remain calm and gave him a very obviously fake smile, hoping he would see that behind the lip gloss were fangs that could cause him irreparable damage.

He introduced himself to me as Eric and tried to sell me a weigh loss challenge (yes, on the brochure he forgot the 'T' in weight and we all know how much I hate bad spelling – is the spell-check button so hard to find?). For only $49 I could get eight weeks of one on one coaching, a support group and advice on nutrition and food choices that would help me through the pregnancy... when I pointed out I had only four days to go until D-Day (my bump was quite compact this morning) he said “Well it is great for after baby to get rid of all the fat” and started rabbiting on about how his 'ex' struggled with post-baby weight loss and blah blah blah, I stopped paying attention at this point.

I haven't even had the kid yet and already I'm being told I have a time limit to lose the baby weight! At my obstetrician appointment today I was weighed and I have put on 13kg since becoming pregnant – within the normal range, and I was an average size 12-14 before that (I may only have two pairs of pants that actually say size 12 but dammit, it counts!). So lovely Eric, with no idea about my personal history has decided that I need help to shed the kilos. Gee, thanks. I feel so warm and fuzzy inside knowing that you care. If Eric had been a buff guy then his words might have carried a bit more weight (possibly around the bum, maybe the thighs), but instead his gut size rivalled mine – I have a BABY in there, Eric, what's your excuse? Aww a cute little beer baby? What will you call it? Carona if it's a girl or TED if it's a boy, how sweet.

I declined (very politely although my teeth may have been clenched slightly) when Eric offered to start my program right there and then. Without missing a beat he asked for my details so he could call me in a few weeks time to get me started on my very own 'Biggest Loser' challenge (and I really doubt he has permission to use that particular copyrighted catch phrase). I said I'd pass for now and concentrate on just having the kid. He was disappointed to not get a sale (maybe my fake smile was too genuine looking?) and ended with “Good luck, I hope everything goes well. I'd love to know what sex you have” which for a millisecond had me thinking not only was he a beer-bellied path blocker who said I was fat, but that he was also a pervert... hey, you never know with these mall sellers.

Did you feel the pressure to lose the baby weight?

Hippo-critical

I'm looking very much more pregnant these days. In the mornings I have a small, compact bump but by about lunch time all my abdominal (or is that abominable) muscles have given up and Tricky kinda sticks out in to the world as if to say “Here I am!”. The problem with this is I never know from one minute to the next how big I am and when trying to squeeze past people on the train I end up brushing against them – if my belly button decides to pop out one day when this happens I'll be charged with indecent assault for sure.

But there is one completely awesome part that I'm pointing out to anyone within earshot: for the first, and most likely only time in my life, I have rock hard abs, baby!

At my most recent obstetrician appointment Tricky was measured and is one week bigger than average in size and weighs just over one kilo. Considering I was a massive heifer of a thing weighing in at just under 4.5kg (9lb 6oz) I'm starting to worry this sucker is gonna be HUGE! I've put on 5kg since being pregnant and on average the last trimester you load on another 5-7kg as all the bub is doing right now is piling on fat to get that gorgeous Michelin Man look.

I've been looking up weight distribution in pregnancy and less than 30% is baby. Which in my mind means there is 70% pure fat. But that's not true, even if my thighs do tell me differently. The average weight gain is 14.5kg and is distributed thus:

3.5kg baby

1kg placenta

2kg increased fluid volume (currently pooling to create beautiful 'cankles')

1kg uterus

1kg breast tissue (hello boys!)

2kg extra blood volume

3kg maternal fat stores (half on each thigh and bum cheek I think)

1kg amniotic fluid

Average is such an attractive prospect. This is one of those times when being above average is not really what you want. Its fine on school reports, lovely on IQ tests, and bloody brilliant on wage slips, but put it on birth weight and *shock horror* head circumference, it quickly loses its appeal. I'm sorry, that monstrous “thing” is meant to come out of where?! An elective caesarian section is looking more attractive by the day.