on juice cleanses

Here's what I intended to post today. An inspirational and totally manageable guide to doing an at-home juice cleanse. Said post would have been empowering and accessible to all you lovely folks while at the same time giving lots of good informative details on recipes, schedules, tips and tricks about conducting your own juice cleanse.

The proof is in the pictures. My equally foolish friend, Brittany, and I spent hours pouring over various websites, comparing information so as to conduct the most healthy and nutritionally beneficial cleanse possible. We raided the produce section at the local grocery story. We spent a whole evening creating five, count 'em FIVE, various juices. We washed, we chopped, we even strained the dang fiber out of our concoctions and commented on how delicious said juices would be.

Here's what I do have to post today. Are you ready for this? Okay, here goes. Juice. Cleanses. Suck. There, I've said it. That's all you need to know. Recipes? You don't want them. Schedules? You'll want to rip up the schedule anyway. Tips and tricks? Here's a tip. Stick to your regularly scheduled diet.

Here's what happened. We settled on doing a 36-hour cleanse (rather than the more standard 3-day cleanse) because it seemed manageable for us newbie cleansers. And it was manageable...for a period. Brittany lasted seven hours. I lasted eight. By five o'clock today I had a raging headache (from lack of caffeine), a growling stomach (from lack of solid food), and a wicked bad taste in my mouth (from the god awful carrot juice...which tasted approximately like sewage mixed with death). At that point, I broke down and ate handful after handful of Chex Mix before moving on to the giant jar o' Reese's Pieces placed strategically and every-so-temptingly on the counter.

I know what you're thinking. Oh, she clearly just didn't have the will power. If she would have made it through, she would have felt rejuvenated, revitalized, refreshed, and all kinds of other inspirational things! Maybe. But more likely I would have done one of three things: (1) pass out; (2) enter into a rage blackout which would inevitably end at Taco Bell; or (3) both of those things in no certain order.

So here's the takeaway message. Cleanse at your own risk. I know what you're thinking because I thought it too before I began this little eight-hour journey: What a whiner, it can't be that bad; it's only 36 hours! To which I say, once again, CLEANSE AT YOUR OWN RISK! Oy gevalt.