Cleaning out the Fridge

Ten days on the Master Cleanse, according to several of the blogs and websites I read on the process, are supposed to leave you light in body, clear of head and free of toxins. Well, I did nine and a half days and was mostly sleepy, foggy and miserable (although I did lose fifteen pounds, three of which have returned with unobtrusive stealth), so nuts to that. This experience may be life-changing for some, but for me it flat out suh-diddly-ucked. I am a foodie to end all foodies – it is damn near a religion for me. I knew not having it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience, but just HOW unpleasant was yet to become clear. Around day two I was completely over the cleanse, especially since Jason had bowed out due to a malfunctioning wisdom tooth, but it became something of a personal challenge, just to see if I could get through all ten days with no sustenance except for a spicy lemonade drink (comprising cayenne, maple syrup, lemon juice and water) and something called Smooth Move herbal tea, the function of which should be apparent in the name, but really didn’t do much of anything that I noticed.

You cannot do a blessed thing to take your mind off the cleanse while you are doing it. There is no way to distract yourself or make it any more bearable – you just have to get through it, like gum surgery or one of Dubya’s speeches. I was never actually hungry, even on the first day, which made the depth of my misery even more fascinating to observe from my own head, if that makes any sense. There were two sides of my brain at work – the obsessive, hysterical one that kept screaming, “You’re not eating! You’re not eating! YOU’RE NOT EATING!!!!!!” and the clinical dispassionate side that calmly said, “Yeah, you’re not eating. And you feel fine, more or less, you’re losing weight, the world’s not ending because you don’t have something stuffed in your maw 12 hours a day – could it be that your weight problem, as well as the solution, is all in your head?” I was starting to feel kind of schizophrenic after a while, but it was a great internal dialogue to have. I found a strange solace in preparing food for my friends and obsessively clipping recipes out of back issues of Food and Wine magazine, almost like I was preparing for all the amazing dishes I would get to make once this self-imposed exile was over. Sitting at bars without a drink, though, well there is just no redeeming that. I felt like the biggest, most boring square alive, and make a pronouncement here and now – there is just no earthly reason not to have a glass of wine with dinner, or a cocktail out with friends unless you are a child, an alcoholic, or on medication. Life is too short to go through it sipping mineral water like a damn nun. (Okay, nuns are off the hook too.)

Being possessed of unbelievably supportive friends was also an amazing plus. We are basically a live-and-let-live bunch, and when one of us wants to do something a little off the wall but apparently harmless, we will support them 100%. I can’t really express how grateful I am for that. Without my buddies I probably wouldn’t have smiled once the entire time.

Around day eight, the fog started to lift, simply with the knowledge that I was near the end of the road. It’s a wonderful feeling. When I told people what I was up to with all this strange murky brown liquid, they looked at me like I had three heads, but the overriding expression was one of awe. I started to feel pretty awesome too, just because it’s cool to finish any project you start, which is not exactly one of my strong points.

I broke the cleanse extremely unconventionally, to everyone’s chagrin and lack of surprise – stuffed peppers and blueberry Stoli – and suffered absolutely no ill effects. (One of my better lines, when Chris said incredulously, “Aren’t you supposed to end the cleanse with soup?” -- “Well, no one was MAKING soup!”) I now have textbook BMs (yes, I am aware we did not start this blog to hear about that kind of thing) and feel pretty good, all things considered. I’m eating mostly fish and vegetables, fresh orange juice and plain yogurt because that’s what my body seems to really want now. I feel like I’ll be able to work out a diet that makes sense for me, and stick to it because that hysterical side of my brain seems to have been starved into submission. And it’s about time too – it was one hyperactive motherfucker. Another interesting development has been a sort of craving re-set. Granted I’m only on day three of normal eating, but when I think about all the foods I’ve loved immodestly since I was a little kid – you know the triggers, chips, cheese, bread, ice cream, pizza – they don’t seem to have the same power over me. It’s a little like falling out of love, but the love was obsessive and destructive and unhealthy, so it’s all for the best. I actually had a couple more of these internal dialogues over what to eat, which has never happened before. Example: After a great dinner last night, I was thinking, “I would really love some of that Bailey’s ice cream in the freezer.” THEN I thought, “Well, since I have no idea what a proper portion is, I will totally overdo it and eat more than I want to. And anyway, what I really want is another glass of wine.” Which I had, and was perfectly happy. Do people have these conversations with themselves on a regular basis? I swear, it’s like learning another language.

For anyone who needs that reboot to start making the proper diet and exercise choices for themselves, I would recommend the Master Cleanse wholeheartedly. I don’t know if I’ll keep it up, but they say it only takes three weeks to make a habit, so I’ll try this new conscientious behavior at least that long. I’ve spent most of my life just doing (and eating and drinking) whatever the fuck comes into my head, and I’ve had a lot of fun indulging that impulsive side of myself (and don’t plan on abandoning it anytime soon), but being a successful grownup requires a bit of a checkrein at times. Sure, I can have six drinks and then come home and eat half a pan of macaroni and cheese (wasn’t that fun Charles? J ), but not four times a week. You can even make thoughtful, conscientious decisions about when to be impulsive, which is less of an oxymoron than it seems. It seems I have unknowingly created a new possibility for myself (™ Landmark Forum). And all because Jason felt bloated one day. Who knew?

P.S. Since Jay has all his ingredients left over, if we go to camp the menu will feature A LOT of pancakes. Waffles, French toast, etc.