Culture Shock

So being home is fabulous, but it is also a major case of culture shock.

Yesterday I drove somewhere...myself...in my car...weird. I only drove a few miles to meet a dear friend, but I could have driven anywhere. Instead of being elated with my new found sense of freedom and driving around in circles, just because I could, I did the very Lydia-like thing. I drove right to Starbucks and then home again. So much for spontaneity.

I feel a little bit like a kid who has worn a uniform to school and all of a sudden gets to college and is terrified of choosing his/her own clothes. I have literally worn the same three outfits for 8.5 weeks...and yesterday I found myself reaching for my "signature" yoga pants and fleece. People magazine will not be pleased, I'll have to branch out to appease my paparazzi.

It's a little bit like coming home from a summer at camp...except this time I was at a hospital...and there were no horses to be found. I'm also fairly confident that I am, in fact, paler then when I left...which I didn't think was quite possible. Awwwwkward.

All jokes aside, coming home and realizing that I'm on my own now is a little bit overwhelming. For the past 8.5 weeks, I've had someone tell me what to do, what to eat, where to go, etc. Now I'm flying solo. I've always known that the hard work of learning to eat and retraining my brain would mostly take place at home, but I hadn't given much thought to how it would all work. I just spent two months at one of the finest medical institutions in the world, so it's not that I don't know what to do...it's just a lot easier to follow directions than it is to write the directions myself.

But I can do it, and I will. Of course it is easier to fall back into old habits, make my protein smoothies and chow down on white bread and rice, but that's not going to get me anywhere. When I looked at my list and discovered that trying lettuce was on tap for today, I'm not going to lie, I questioned if munching on dry lettuce like a rabbit was going to be appetizing. What? I'm 28 years old and I eat baby food...who cares if dry lettuce is appetizing!?

So it's time to suck it up and munch. On the other side of this giant mountain is one heck of a fiesta, and we all know how much I love a good party.

But, can I wear my yoga pants and fleece?