If you’ve ever slid face first into wet soccer field, mouth agape, you’ve tasted the earthy delights of a juice cleanse. And maybe even, in that moment, previewed the nutritional equivalent of one.
Right now I’m day three of a first and very noisy adventure into juicing and still not sure how I feel about it. Besides empty, obviously. There are feelings about it in this house, from the Fella and the cat, but this is not their blog. From the information I gathered deep down from the sad places on the internet, this was meant to be much more fantastical and life changing than it has been.
Note: Nothing on the internet about health benefits in general say that they are felt gradually over time so now you know that’s not a thing there. It’s an evidence locker for getting everything you ever wanted with zero effort.
I tend to embark on things in September. Back to school never leaves me even though I’ve long left school.
Writerly plans of retreats where you go away to drink mystery juice and be silent in the woods, from whence some of this Witch juice comes from, have been abolished from my bucket list. I’ve tasted the juice. I doesn’t feel natural to not be allowed to say holy fuck a few times while consuming. That Boho juicing weekend has now been replaced by a wine tasting event in October where I expect to be infinitely more juiced than I am today.
The weakness is the least enjoyable part of this adventure. I feel like the token broken woman looking for the end to something that isn’t enough for her body. And then the super cute n’ dirty furnace guy comes over to fix a hose. You’re tested on many levels during a fast. He may not even have been that hot considering my weakened state and fierce hunger. Regardless, me and the Fella are playing fix the furnace again tonight.
Part of my work in life takes place in a gym. And where this crazy idea came from. In said gym, I am surrounded by fitness professionals which brings forth opinions about health. Widely varied opinions about health. I’ve floated out the notion of a juice cleanse many times and have been met with any number of opinions on the pros and cons of doing such a gross green thing. So, following my typical modus operandi, I decided to crowbar the knowledge out for myself. Like I did with WordPress and parallel parking downtown.
I don’t know. I like juice. Rather, I used to like juice before I tried this cold pressed bark water. As much as I get teased, usually by smokers, about how healthy I eat, I stand by my wholesome viking hippie upbringing. I chewed licorice root sticks instead of Twizzlers growing up. I got this. Over these few days, I just really miss the part where I get to have food in my mouth.
Full respect for the process remains intact. My new friend Laura from China old school juices as frantically as a Shanghai rush hour. She freestyles with a blender, colander, wooden spoon and things growing the in the back yard. Soon her and I will have a conversation about pesticides and off leash dog pee but I can’t bear to burst her juice bubble just yet.
When all is said and done, I did it. It’s over. Tomorrow I get to use my teeth again. The cat will come back inside. I feel a little bit super charged underneath the weary cloak of calorie deprivation. I may need to poke a new hole in a belt or two until my late night winter juicing takes hold of my midriff again.
Looking back three long days, I realize now that I forgot to weigh myself before I started. The most important component of this whole escapade according to the internet. Thus making this post completely irrelevant in the world we now live in.
Oh well. To your health everyone!
And Happy New Year.