It was only a matter of time before this blog led to a near-death experience.
My latest study in the art of being basic has been tackling a key component of the LA Girl Diet, Nekter’s ‘Advanced Juice Cleanse.’ This is a cute way of saying ‘starvation,’ but we’ll expand on that in a minute. It all began over a LA Girl Diet-unapproved lunch of tacos with my coworkers. They were chatting about their upcoming cleanse and encouraging me to partake, i.e. sign my life away. Lore, the grand organizer behind this masochism, gave me the rundown about how Day 1 of their diet commenced tomorrow and people participated for up to three days. When I hesitated, she mentioned an extra day of supplies stockpiled in the fridge – so if I cared to join, that set of devil’s elixir already had my name on it. All I needed to do was shoot a Venmo payment (with a description involving various vegetable emojis and probably a skull) her way.
This would be a group exercise, as it had been previously established everyone would reconvene in the kitchen for each juicing session and collectively cry about how miserable they were. “This easily sounds like the worst idea I have ever heard,” I said back. “But what the hell, why not. Lore, I hope you’re making a commission off of this.”
The truth is, I’ve always been eager to experiment with juicing – primarily out of curiosity, how many minutes hours would inch by before I cracked? And also because Nekter could have been a USD sponsor with how much our student body used and abused their products. Once I was even grilled over an oh-so-scandalous juicing rumor by friends in another sorority: “We heard that everyone in Alpha Phi is on a cleanse. In fact, people are saying it’s 100% mandatory. Is that true?”
To which I replied by stating that, ladies, you’re well-aware of my calorie intake. Do you really, genuinely believe that if I was forced to sip on kale extract all the livelong day I would still be conscious by my afternoon Econ class?
“Point taken,” they said.
Which segues into why this hot new trend may be child’s play for others, but a potential death sentence for this girl.
No, I don’t inhale so much food I deserve a TLC show highlighting my shameless gluttony.* But I was cursed with a uniquely and inconveniently fast metabolism that demands 6 small meals each day, every day. To clarify: I’m not one of those skinny assholes who finds it near impossible to gain weight (so no need to resent me, folks!) – but I will certainly become light-headed and risk fainting after a few hours running on an empty stomach. Slumber parties at friends’ houses as a child were very stressful indeed.
Moral of the story: there was a 50/50 chance this cleanse would kill me.
*Although I’m sure it would be an instant hit!
Cleanse Breakdown
Duration: 1 day minimum, 3 days max
Cost: $40 per day (“Girl, why” -my bank account)
Number of victims participants: 7
Quantity of juice: 6 bottles per day, with one consumed every 2 hours
Water: after finishing each juice, you’re instructed to fill up the bottle with H2O and then down that. Which sounds chill but is actually beyond traumatic in practice.
Food: don’t even think about it. “But if you get desperate” (direct quote) you’re allowed “a handful of almonds or half an avocado wrapped in lettuce” (also direct quote).
“That sounds repulsive, I’d rather starve,” was my mature response.
Did I survive the ordeal? My next entry will detail the account in all its gruesome entirety – so you can suffer vicariously through me from the comfort of your bed/couch/toilet/wherever you’re reading this (probably toilet). Get ready!
The Art of Being Basic 