The Truth Behind My Juice Cleanse Fail
Bored with my daily internet routine of “Twin Peaks” fan sites and self tanner shopping, I stumbled upon a woman’s review of a juice cleanse. After reading her results and analyzing the before and after pictures, I knew I needed this. Not only are cleanses considered to be “chic” these days, but they’re also a favorite of the good ol’ famous, (Beyonce did the master cleanse for 45 days — however I find it hard to believe she actually did that without giving birth to a cayenne pepper baby). They actually have some health benefits too. Apparently, cleanses can completely revitalize your whole system, give you more energy and get rid of gross toxins in your body that are developed pretty much just by living and eating unhealthy things like Rueben’s, mac and cheese, and buffalo chicken pizza (please tell me you you eat those things too…)
You’re clearly thinking “why does he even want to do this?” Honestly, it stems back a few years ago, to my Dad — but doesn’t everything?
*Cue the violins*
When I was younger, my Dad was always obsessed with being healthy. And by healthy, I mean being manorexic and exercising three times a day. Naturally, his self-obsession with being fit bled into me. I mean, it was kind of impossible for it not to, as he closely monitored what I ate, down to counting out 10 single french fries onto my plate. Oh trust me, it gets better. The worst of it being when he put me on a month-long diet and convinced me to lose 25 pounds at 12 years old.
I ended up gaining all the weight back in less than two months.
Anyways, because there was such a strong pressure to be healthy, I’ve always had this weird relationship with food and dieting. I may not have been healthy per se, but I was always thinking about my weight and what I looked like, which was far from what I WANTED to look like. I obsessed like this especially when I was chowing down on chicken tenders and brownies.
I went to pick up my juices from an organic grocery store. After I waited in line with granola munching, non-deodorant wearing yoga moms, I finally got my hands on what would be food for the next couple of days. “Good luck!” the cashier said to me, the look on her face gave me the impression that the woman probably cleanses every week. I threw the eight pound box into a cab and took my juices home.
OLE! I was ready to cleanse.
The first few days were treacherous. All I wanted to do was eat and I couldn’t distract myself from the thought of putting food in my mouth. I would walk home and smell a street-meat cart and literally want to attack the poor man who ran it for a stick of shwarma — but instead I drank my “sweet greens” juice which was the “earthy” combination of kale, spinach, parsley, watercress, and apple.
It’s not like I was surrounded by many distractions at home — my Dad’s refrigerator consists of vitamins, aloe vera water, and rice cakes, plus the occasional container of hummus. I was feeling particularly snappy that night. I was so hungry and cranky, like a baby. Why was I even doing this stupid thing?
“How are you?” my Dad said when he got home from work that night.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed while I devoured my brazil nut milk.
I ended up spending the rest of the night at home watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
The next day I woke up feeling amazing. It had been a few days and I hadn’t gone insane and shoved a box of Dunkin Donuts down my throat. I went for a power walk in Central Park, blasting No Doubt. “It’s my life!” Gwen Stefani screamed in her sultry ’90s voice. It was MY life! I suddenly felt so powerful and realized that I had much more control over my life. If I could be so tolerant and drink these disgusting juices, then I could do anything. I began to realize that the cleanse was the perfect jumpstart to a healthier life. I’d cut out junk food and start going to yoga classes weekly. Maybe I’d even become a vegan!? Who knew that these bottles of juice could carry so much life potential!
I had planned it out accordingly so that I would be juicing in front of my friends. Yes, I care what my friends think and like their attention and acceptance. HELLO. I’m human… Plus, I knew that the juices were considered to be chic, so why not show them off?
Later that day, I sat down at lunch with my friends and when the waiter took everyone’s order, I simply replied, “I’m not eating.”
My friends looked at me like I was crazy.
“I’m on this juice cleanse!”
The ooh’s and ahh’s began.
“It’s this really awesome four day thing where all you do is drink these vegetable juices.”
My friends looked confused.
“You lose weight!”
They were all smiling now.
“I know Guacamole is an extra dollar,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. It had been less than 24 hours since I finished the cleanse. I put my Ray Ban’s on and pulled up the hood to my rain coat, slipping the Chipotle bag close to my gurgling stomach, like a junkie who had just scored. When I got home I left no time to spare before I dug into my burrito bowl. I turned on “Chelsea Lately,” applied a face mask and went to bed.
A day or two later, when I finally got out of my post-cleanse binge, I had realized that while the cleanse may have made me look healthier for a few days, it really didn’t do much. In the end, I lost a few pounds but honey, trust me – there was no glow. If anything, the “glow” I got from it could have been better achieved with a couple of layers of L’Oreal self tanner. I decided that in the end, I’d leave the cleanses to the woman from the organic food store. The lady whom, as I type this, is probably munching on gluten-free crackers and not shaving her armpits (not that there is anything wrong with that…).
It had been two weeks since I’d cleansed.
“Thats mine, you BITCH!” I screamed, as I grabbed the ice cream cake out my friend Olivia’s hands. I sliced into it’s thick, fudgey Oreo center and even though the cake immediately fell on the floor, I ate it anyways.
(Image via Shutterstock).