Why Cleanse If I Like Being Dirty Inside?

Two bananas, cut to look like dolphins, with little red berries in their mouths. Who wouldn't want to cleanse?

Some idiot (me) decided it would be a good idea to “do a cleanse” after the gluttonous holiday season. 

This 30-day cleanse would ‘flush the body of toxins,’ causing our skin to become clearer and glow. Our organs would be surrounded by rainbows and held in place by magical unicorns.

• • •

We publicly declared to our friends and family our no meat, no bread, no sugar, no fish, (no life) initiative for the upcoming month, so we would be held accountable and publicly shamed if we cheated.

In true self-sabotaging form, we gorged ourselves, packing a month’s worth of joyful eating into one last night.

Then we went drunk shopping in a food coma.

• • •

Day 1: Raw Food Rage

The last time I tried a raw food cleanse, my partner cheated on me,

with a dirty little burrito. 

I have a new cleanse partner now, so we’ll see if he’s tempted by the sexy salsa siren song.

7 am: Begin with a juice called “Eye am Healthy” — it has carrots, cucumbers, celery, and cilantro. I’ve not yet even brought it to my lips and want to rename it to “Eye am Going to Barf”.

Veggies are meant to be bathed in dip and fruits enrobed in whipped cream. It is sinful to squeeze and crush them simply to exploit them for their juices. 

I can still hear the carrots screaming.

My partner downs his in 5 gulps, smacks his lips, and says, “That wasn’t so bad”. I am trying in vain to control my dry heaving.

7:30 am: Mexican Standoff with the juicer. How can two small cups of juice produce so much mess?

8 am: The kitchen is finally clean. I am giving my green smoothie cut eye. It smells like a cross between a fresh-cut lawn and ginger.

I hate ginger.

9 am: I still can’t bring myself to finish it all. The smoothie is starting to separate. It looks like green pond scum on the bottom and putrid baby food on top.

10 am: I am reliving childhood dinner table trauma. I was always the last one, alone at the table because I wouldn’t eat my food. I would look at the clock, then look at the food. Clock, food, clock, food, clock.

I put my head on the table and pout. No one is taking the shake away. I wonder when my partner is coming home.

11:15 am: I take one last look at the disgusting snot mix, now separated into 3 layers, plug my nose and swallow.

It is done.

It’s not even noon yet and I already miss chewing.

1 pm: Making friends with salad. This is a raw food diet, so I can’t put cheese in my salad. 

Wait! Somewhere in Greece there must be a Feta tree, right? I thought so too. That makes it a fruit. Mind your own business.

3 pm: I’m counting out almonds like I’m in the movie ‘“Alive”

5 pm: My partner should be home soon. I’m not even excited because it just means that I have to drink another shake.

6:30 pm: He arrives. I bite his arm, tempted by tender meat.

7 pm: Smash open a young, unsuspecting coconut like a feral cavewoman to make this evening’s “green smoothie.”

8 pm: My teeth are atrophying from lack of use. I’m not going to make it. 

My partner says he already feels skinnier. 

I’m going to smother him with a head of broccoli while he sleeps.

• • •

Day 2: Why does everything taste so bad?

Normally I don’t look forward to going to the doctor. However this morning it meant that I wasn’t allowed to eat until after my 9 am appointment — which meant that I was mercifully spared from having to stomach this morning’s juice.

I gagged silently as my partner downed his “Healthy Skin” juice.

• • •

Why do green smoothies taste so horrible? I’ve had salads before. I chew all the ingredients together and swallow. What changes so much when you blend them all together?

My working theory has two suspects: our raw, organic, totally hipster, plant-based protein which tastes like vanilla cardboard, or the unflavoured, unsweetened rice milk which tastes like boiled noodle water with a dash of skim milk.

• • •

I hoped my partner had forgotten about our pact and asked him to go for chicken wings tonight.

Hell hath no sadness like a woman without drumsticks.

Soooo… shakes. YAY!

2003 — My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

2024 — My shakes make me want to put my head in the toilet.

• • •

I can’t wait for Day 3 - Romain Calm and Lettuce Pray

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