Day 1
This commences the first day of my potentially three-day juice cleanse. Throughout the next 24 hours, I will be meticulously jotting down notes to track the emotional, physical, and perhaps spiritual toll this purging sesh takes on me. The following content will inevitably be as raw as the ingredients in these bottles, so consider yourself warned. This is no entry for the faint at heart.
7:00 AM
Woke up already feeling hungry. Damnit.
8:55 AM
We began placing bets on who would be the first to admit defeat within the Juicing Squad. Everyone voted Robert, probably because none of them were familiar with my excessive specific eating habits (see: my desk’s snack drawer).
9:00 AM
The ‘Cold Pressed’ juice was first up to bat, concocted with a blend of apple, celery, cucumber, lime, kale, parsley, spinach, and mint. Fun fact: this was my first time trying out a bougie juice brand, given my lifelong belief that $7 could be better spent on Boston Market or sushi or literally anything in the world besides fucking juice. Ah, the moral sacrifices I make for this blog.
Anyway, I assumed this mossy-tinted sewer water would scorch away my taste buds, but it was surprisingly refreshing. Would drink again! (If it weren’t $7, because really, that’s absurd.)
9:12 AM
I asked my office mate, Andrew, how long he wagers I’ll last since he’s a prime witness to my around-the-clock eating routine. His answer: “If I’m being generous, 3:30. Realistically, more like 2.”
“Thanks, I’m flattered,” I said, because that was a solid 4 hours longer than I would have ever predicted.
10:04 AM
Hungry but still sane; have not veered into ‘hangry’ territory yet. Perhaps I’m capable of this, after all!
11:00 AM
Onto numero dos. Considering I’ve eaten breakfast religiously since 1998, it’s no surprise I’d describe my current status as “lowkey famished.” I asked the others if they were experiencing the same state of shock, but they all claimed to be fine since they typically skip breakfast anyway. I did everything within my power to mask my utter disbelief at this, as I would truly be lost without a routine RX bar and oatmeal topped with mixed berries and almond butter in the AM.
In related news, juice #2 was not real juice.
12:00 PM
I was definitely uncomfortable this morning, but with the right distractions, able to segregate my hunger to the back of my mind. At this point, though – the time when I typically race off to devour my (first) lunch (of the day) – the harsh reality is truly beginning to weigh down. Focusing on work is more of an obstacle than ever before. I’m also peeing. A lot.
12:11 PM
And… the headache has officially started to kick in. That didn’t take long. Lovely!
12:53 PM
This just in: juicing is a hot button issue. Why do I say this? Because people have ZERO chill about dishing me their unsolicited opinion on the matter.
Seriously, I’ve been Snapchatting my struggle live and have already received five messages from different acquaintances commenting on my Snap story. Which I’m obviously cool with, seeing as it provides bonus blog material, but who would have imagined my joke of a ‘study’ would provoke such an emotional response?
One friend professed how much juicing changed her life, a couple more have reported that they’ve been interested in trying this (and despite my clearly distressed snaps, still seemed rather excited at the notion?), and then, of course, there were a few bearing a deep-seated hostility towards anything remotely resembling juice.
Out of the opposing counsel, my friend Hester’s feedback was easily the most extra. Yesterday he made it clear that he didn’t approve of my participation, and in case there was any smidgen of doubt whether he had changed his mind on this matter, he sketched me a comic. This is what popped up on my screen, snap by snap.
No words.
1:00 PM
My stomach is legitimately growling. I feel dizzy.
1:03 PM
One member of the Juice Squad was caught eating and subsequently roasted in the group text. If we suffer, we suffer together.
1:09 PM
Realizing that I wasn’t the first to crack has triggered a (likely false) sense of hope and pride. I dedicate my undeniable progress to my haters!
1:52 PM
Alas, Hester isn’t the only one losing his marbles over my martyrdom. That British kid known as my boyfriend has been RIPE with commentary the second I dared drop the j-word. I must admit the timing is rather unfortunate: recently I commented how, since taking a break from Krav Maga, I don’t feel as fit and want to regain my strength – which is something I now deeply regret, seeing as he’s produced personalized ab workouts for me and pushed meal prep recipes that are actually healthy.
Bottom line: he’s trying to be supportive in his signature extra af way and it’s super inconvenient. Yesterday he texted me expressing concerns that I will become “malnourished.” This morning he handed me a protein shake to consume after my evening kickboxing class. In response, I explained that, while it may constitute a ‘liquid,’ enjoying any foreign substance went against the holy Nekter Commandments… but of course, this did little to persuade him and I now find myself the victim of personal attacks.
Yes, we’re breaking up any day now.
2:15 PM
Update.
2:40 PM
I’m going to be real with y’all… I’m not doing so hot right now. My headache has grown more prominent and the combination of lack of caffeine and low blood sugar levels has left me exhausted. I’ve completed about a quarter of my usual workload and attention span has shortened to approximately 15 seconds, as my brain continues to churn in slow motion.
In conclusion: forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned!
3:00 PM
Introducing juice number 4. It’s a definite confidence boost to realize you’ve reached another milestone… until you swing open the refrigerator door to see the devil staring back at you some repugnant oozing black substance.
(Upon further investigation, I learned that the culprit behind this godawful coloring is coconut charcoal. Whatever that means, I’m still new to this whole being basic ordeal.)
3:08 PM
Ugh, please be a little more obsessed with me. Alas, he just needs to accept that his girlfriend is a trail-blazing journalist, destined to confront even the darkest of millennial trials. We all have our crosses to bear.
In related news, I’ve hit that ‘irritable’ stage in this starvation rollercoaster. This is partly due to the fact that I feel like a jittery Chihuahua that can’t stop tinkling. My sphincter muscle hates me.
3:46 PM
I keep fantasizing about eating.
Which is honestly pretty typical for me, but never quite on this deranged level. My imagination drifts to the sweet, sweet fantasy of raiding my snack drawer the second Andrew steps out the room. Or of smuggling a KIND bar in my bra and then gorging on its delectable contents inside a bathroom stall where no one will be the wiser. I wonder if Andrew would judge me for caving in? Or keep his lips sealed if he witnesses my bloodthirsty surrender? Perhaps I could bribe him…
I’ve officially become a food junkie.
3:59 PM
4:33 PM
Casually took my five hundredth trip to the bathroom.
4:55 PM
Whoever invented the concept of a juice cleanse is surely a sadist (probably a big Brett Easton Ellis and Jack Kerouac fan, too – we all know the type), because this shit is twisted. It’s no exaggeration to say that, besides the relentless nausea and pounding headache and non-existent attention span, I just feel plain old physically weak. As though my bones are made out of paper and one huge gust of wind would blow me down the hall (and hopefully in the direction of the nearest taco stand).
5:10 PM
5:16 PM
Began drafting my obituary.
5:32 PM
You want an update? I’ll give you an effing update. Well, for one, I no longer possess all five senses; despite the truckloads of liquids I have consumed, my mouth feels utterly parched and as though I’m no longer capable of chewing. Like, I wouldn’t even know what to do with a pulled pork sandwich if I came in contact with it. Eyesight remains a struggle and bright lights are getting on my nerves.
The worst part is how suddenly emotional I’m becoming over the most random, trivial issues. Coworker sends a harmless yet repetitive email? Hate her, want her ass fired. Photoshop taking too long to load on my PC? Screw you, Bill Gates, you utter heathen! The worst is the 2015 Grammy’s – that memory feels particularly agonizing. I mean, really, Taylor ‘Salazar Slytherin’ Swift winning over Kendrick’s To Pimp A Butterfly? Is the Recording Academy completely blind (or rather, deaf) to the poignant symbolism and exceptional lyricism of it all? The metamorphosis of caterpillar to cocoon to butterfly depicted over the course of the album, touching on themes of racism, capitalism, exploitation, as he grapples with his conflicting rise to fame?
Why am I crying right now?
5:40 PM
Actual video footage of me in the office. Yeah, things are going just swell over here, thanks for asking!
5:47 PM
Well, we all saw this one coming.
Thank you to everyone who read this death march until its very end; a reflection regarding my perspective on juicing (if it weren’t obvious) and whether this nutritional torture is actually healthy (I’ll cite my sources and everything!) will be coming soon. And if you were wondering, no, I did not make it to my kickboxing class that night. But I did enjoy the hell out of that burrito bowl!
The Art of Being Basic 