Every morning, I stand before my mirror, facing profile, and assess how many months pregnant I look (no paternity tests needed: Food, you are the father). This morning, my guess is about eight weeks (which is to say, my food-baby bump would only be visible to those thoroughly acquainted with my torso). Since I’m going on a liquid fast for the day, I anticipate it will shrink over the next 24 hours. At least, it had better, or I will contact Groupon and self-righteously demand a refund.
So. First on the prescribed detox menu is the Got Greens drink, which is a blend of celery, spinach, kale and cucumber juices. Those are some of my favorite green foods! It doesn’t sound disgusting, despite resemblng Slimer’s ectoplasmic residue in Ghostbusters. And I am delighted to report that, indeed, it is not disgusting! It tastes like water flavored with essences of celery and grass, which is actually better than it sounds when you know you have no other options.
Meals for the day. In the world of food porn, this is a fetish.
20% through this green concoction, and my stomach is beginning to feel like I swallowed a bottle of multivitamins without food. I don’t think it comprehends today’s objective.
Two hours later. I have only drunk about 80% of my juice. HOW MANY OUNCES WERE HIDING IN THAT CUP?
Two hours and ten minutes later (around 11:00 a.m.): I’m finished! But now that I have no edibles to put in my mouth, I sort of miss it. Oh well; I did just drink my weight in kale juice. That’s more than most accomplish in an average morning.
An hour has passed. It is noon, and I am ravenous. I have an urge to go on a rampage, wherein I crawl through every Del Taco drive-thru window in a six-mile radius and demand they surrender all of their French fries to me. But instead, I walk to my office kitchen and retrieve my Veggie Combo juice (carrot, celery, beet, and kale) from the refrigerator. My boss saunters in and inquires what the hell I am drinking (he’s British, so when he swears at me it’s charming). I tell him about my dietary plan, which elicits an eyeroll. He decides that I am actually drinking blood. Evidently, blood tastes very strongly of beets.
The drink isn’t bad (I like beets just as well as the next kid who grew up watching Doug), but it could definitely benefit from some vegan Worcestershire sauce. And a celery stalk. And vodka.
Anyway, I down it…in about an hour and a half, which is significantly rapider than the previous beverage. Despite my increasing ability to power-chug juices, I feel about as sluggish as I would on any other day that I skip my morning espresso-chased-with-Diet Dr. Pepper-followed-by-green-tea.
It’s now 3:00 p.m., and I am growing certain that I am slowly wasting away from starvation, so I turn to the beverage I have been dreading most: Druids [sic?] Detox, which contains burdock root, lemon, apple, ginger, agave and cayenne. Most of the ingredients sound palatable; cayenne is a bit questionable, and burdock root—I don’t have any preconceived notions about that, actually. Apparently, burdock is a biennial thistle that moth larvae like to eat, and it has numerous medicinal applications. Hm. I wonder if that’s the ingredient that lends a woodsy odor to my drink.
I take a tentative swallow. It is not delicious. My stomach growls. I hold my breath and take another sip: consumed in this way, it tastes like lemonade with a curious afterburn. Not bad!
I finish it, and in record time (twenty minutes!), but I can’t help but suspect that druids had strange tastebuds, or lacked olfactory bulbs (perhaps that anatomical feature evolved later, or was bestowed upon the human race by Stonehenge aliens). Or maybe druids were just starving and ate everything. (I can relate.)
As my work day comes to a close, I don’t think I can definitively declare that I’m more alert and energetic, or that my mood has been elevated, as a result of raw food alchemy. But I will say this: it is a miracle that I have gone this long without eating and have not yet experienced the urge to strangle someone.
I get home and manage to clean my kitchen for ten whole minutes (this is practically a record) before tearing into my final drink of the day: Chocolate High Fiber Smoothie (cacao, banana, nut mylk—P.S.: they made me spell it that way—chia seeds, and dates). Every time I considered throwing a Hail Mary today, I remembered that I got to have a chocolate milkshake for dinner, and I was sated. It was worth the wait: wondrous, chocolate-banana sludge. I devoured it thusly:
Step 1: Vanna White that shiz.
Step 2: Chug with the enthusiasm of a hazed sorority rush.
Step 3: I'm a lady.
Day One of this detox is over (therefore, I am 33.333333333333333333…% on my way to Thanksgiving feasting!). My boss thinks I’m a vampire, I’ve considered robbing multiple Del Tacos of their French fries, and I had a milkshake for dinner.
Not bad, all things considered. But I wonder if I’m going to sleepwalk to my refrigerator in the middle of the night to ravage a burrito. Only time will tell!
Tomorrow: Installment 2 of 3 (now with solid foods!).