The man, the myth, the 'GOAT': Tom Brady. We all know him, we all love him, and we all aspire to, in some small way, actually be him. If you are what you eat, then it only follows that Tom Brady must be the reflection of what he eats. So, if we eat what Tom eats, then we, too, will be the greatest quarterback who has ever lived. It's simple, logical analytics and a lot of blind hope.
Recently, the chef of the Brady-Bundchen household, Allen Campbell, spoke about what the family traditionally eats on a day to day basis. For someone whose diet is comprised of mainly sugar, a banana (usually accompanied by a pat on the back, go health!), and the isolated Ramen noodle packet, I was appalled. 80 percent vegetables, 20 percent lean protein, and the cheat meal? A tomato. No coffee, no dairy, no white flour, no sugar, no happiness. Yet, for the sake of writing about it, I bore on, boats against the current, borne ceaselessly into the potential for perfection and the total awareness of inevitable defeat.
Day 1: Feeling Scared, Regretful, a Little Nauseous
Living on dreams and a lot of egg whites. With my limited knowledge of basically everything, I relied heavily on the "veggie omelet" as my main source of sustenance. After using this for two of my meals, and following a webMD search of scurvy, I got scared and had a salad. I finished the day staring longingly at a sleeve of Oreos.
Day 2: Feeling A Misplaced Sense of Determination
Just as many eggs, infinitely more confusion. I spent the day searching for kale, quinoa, and other things meant for people of class and dignity and not found in my dorm room. However, the lack of coffee gave me the delusional confidence that I could do this, so day two is somehow a success.
Day 3: Feeling Sad
I found my personal hell. I literally found myself pondering possible drugs to replace my caffeine dependence and the list of options to which I would resort is genuinely concerning. I now understand why Tom exercises so frequently: a person needs those endorphins to eliminate the possibility of a spiraling depression on a diet like this. Kale has come into the picture, a sad, sad vegetable.
Day 4: Feeling Rebellious, Angsty, a Teenage Dirtbag
My first mistake this morning was listening to Alanis Morissette. My second-through-fifth mistakes were as follows: eating a banana, drinking coffee, tripping down the stairs, and inhaling most of a bag of chocolate chips. At about noon, I had to shut off the Avril Lavigne and sit myself down for an internal dialogue to get back on track. I apologized to kale, to TB12, and to myself for letting Avril get the best of me.
Days 5 and 6: Feeling... I am void of feeling.
The lingering angst has chipped away at my determination and now, even though I'm currently still eating a truly weird amount of baby carrots and eggs, I'm doing so with contempt. Yesterday, I had a dream about donuts. Today, math class was dominated by my thoughts of Frosted Flakes. There will be no bitterness when this ends.
Day 7: Cheat day!
I finished up this monstrosity of a week with a tomato and an unruly level of cynicism. Overall, I learned three main things: that Tom Brady would be a lot happier if he spent some quality time with two guys named Ben and Jerry; that carbs are, in fact, my best friend; and that I, in no way shape or form, felt physically better by eliminating these so-called detriments to health. So, in conclusion, eat whatever you want and feel great about it. You're probably already halfway to being Tom Brady as it is, and that's all any of us mere mortals can hope for anyway. Here's to Kellogg's cereal, mountains of sugar, carb-loading a normal day, two sleeves of Oreo's, and the not-so-bitter end.
