I thought I was strong, but gradually an evil pizza-demanding fiend appeared and no one was safe. I should have known.
Wow, here we are, folks. If you’ve ever thought about doing a juice cleanse, or are interested in a harrowing tale filled with hope, pain, and rebirth then strap on in. If it’s anything like my juice cleanse experience, the ride will be less than pleasant.
Part One: Visions of Renewal Fuelled with Delusion:
Let’s set the scene: a tired, dull and increasingly flabby individual is staring herself down in the mirror. “How sad”, she thinks. “Is this what I look like? Tragic.” Reality strikes, people! And when it does, it’s best to be as far away from a mirror as possible. I’ve always wanted to do a juice cleanse, and being the delusional optimist that I am, this was not only the perfect time to do it but it would also completely transform me into the young Claudia Schiffer I know lies within. She’s just resting right now! I knew God supported my decision when I went on to Pressed Juicery’s website and saw that they were having a promotional deal. Like any rational person, I shrieked and rallied the troops. Juice cleanses are better with friends so you can share your mutual pain and suffering. Juice cleansing is a team sport, simply facts, people. I skipped all the way to the Pressed store and with each skip, I felt more and more like Gwenyth Paltrow. I bought my juices, holding one in my hands proudly and delivered an Oscar-winning speech, thanking the workers for their part in my rebirth. The Gwenyth inside told me to. The workers were both honored and touched, but I’m sure this type of thing happens every day. Fools scampering in, ready for a new life. The workers urging them on, only to laugh menacingly once they leave the store. If only they knew the horrors that lie ahead, suckers.
Part 2: It Begins
I’m home now, and I can’t wait to start the cleanse. So much so, that when I fall asleep I dream that I’m on Oprah speaking about all my success. What do I credit all my fame and glory to? The juice cleanse. It’s obvious that the stakes have been set waayyyyy too high. The comedown will be brutal. As they say, what goes up must come down! I go to my fridge and look at all my pretty little juices that I payed way too much for and read each label happily, only wincing after reading “roots 2.” MMMM roots, my favorite…. The first juice wasn’t bad at all, quite pleasant actually. What could be better than juice for breakfast? “Literally nothing”, I told myself. Each juice was to be had at two-hour intervals between its other juice brothers and sisters. I was living it up until I hit juice three. We don’t like to speak about juice three, because that’s when my optimism flew straight out the window and the horrific and painful reality of what it means to only drink juice all day set in. It was sour, my stomach was churning, I felt nauseous, various segments of my life all involving sweet sweet food came to mind with every sip. The horror, the sheer audacity of it all. I still had three more to go?!? With my last sip of juice three, I realized that If I wasn’t dead by the end of this, I had superpowers that entailed incredible juice drinking abilities.
As the day went on, various demons within reared their ugly heads. The food devil was so strong that I was halfway down the street on the way to get a burger until the fog lifted around me and I had to state my name, date of birth and address in order to remember who I was and why I was in the middle of nowhere. My roommate came in with Hot Cheetos and I had to instruct her to restrain me so I didn’t assault her for them. Thankfully no one was harmed during the entirety of the cleanse, at least that I can remember. I think I blacked out at some point. By the end of the day, I had successfully finished all six juices but felt so nauseous that I imagined my stomach was a concert arena, and there was definitely a heavy metal band playing, and there was definitly a mosh pit. I went to bed at 7 and prayed for the day from hell to end.
Part 3: The Aftermath. Claudia Schiffer, Is that you?
Thank God I woke up the next day. That was a close one. Could have easily withered away in my sleep. I got out of bed and looked in the mirror. Unfortunately, it was still just me, but hot damn I looked skinny! “Hmmm maybe it was worth it”’ I thought. LMAO, JUST KIDDING! As soon as I sniffed my breakfast, my stomach immediately blopped out over my jeans and I shed a single tear. As far as energy went, I was a walking zombie, so the usual. Nothing new there. Maybe my skin was clearer than usual the next few days? But that’s a huge maybe. I could have easily fabricated that in my head just to make myself feel better. I felt the same as I usually would in the next coming week, not bad but certainly not as thrilled as Billy Mays once was selling Oxy Clean. (That was my goal.) Moral of the story, the only thing I really gained from doing this cleanse was the ability to say I made it through a juice cleanse without cheating and prove my questionable willpower to myself. Thank God I didn’t pick the experienced cleanse over the basic cleanse. The endorphins get going and I simply can’t be trusted to make rational decisions. I just get way too excited. Oh, I also learned I’m not a sadist because of my choice to do the basic cleanse, so that’s pretty great. One more fun fact to tell people at parties. “Hey Tommy, did you know that I’m not a sadist? You too? Cool! We should totally hang out sometime!”
About two months after I did the cleanse I went to Pressed for ice cream, you obviously won’t be seeing me there for anything else ever again. Me being the lonely, social interaction lacking person I am, I tried to strike up a convo with one of the people working there and asked if they’d ever done a cleanse. When they replied yes, I couldn’t wait to relate our struggles. Cleanse buddies!! Instead, they went on to say that they had done a week-long cleanse and thought that it was easy. I was horrified, disgusted, to say the least. You foul human, you. Who are you? What are you? After, one of the most fabulous, “I’m very obviously incredibly wealthy” women walked over to me while my mouth was still agape trying to process what I had just heard and said, “Those cleanses are hell, I almost died on a One Day.” Needless to say, my faith in humanity was immediately restored. If this moment was a bell curve, the superhuman freak behind the Pressed counter would be way outside of me and my new rich best friend’s cool kid curve. So take that. Also, I realized that because of this, I had more in common with the skinny, glowing, fabulously wealthy and thankfully honest lady than I could have ever imagined. If I had to do a soul-sucking cleanse to realize this, then It was all worth it in the end.
Keep it real,