|*This chart is a lie, since we actually spent 0% of the time doing the juice cleanse, but the pie chart program wouldn't let me do a slice that small. Even science is disappointed in us.|
We decided to do the cleanse over a weekend since it would be easier to coordinate our meals, and we could be there to comfort each other as we went through the horror of doing without caffeine and alcohol. And as cleanses go, this one sounded reasonable – only three days, and it was more of a supplement to a healthy diet that they carefully outlined in their instruction booklet.
At least I think that's what was in the instruction booklet, since we never got around to really reading it. In fact, the only thing we managed to do was pay for the cleanse and put it in the refrigerator because this is the conversation we had when we got home.
Rigel: So let's start this cleanse on Friday.
Me: Well, we have that dinner party that night. I am definitely going to want to pig out and have a cocktail.
Rigel: Right. So let's start on Saturday.
Me: What?! You can't expect me to wake up on Saturday morning and not have a cup of coffee. Or bacon. Let's start on Sunday.
Rigel: No way, I have rehearsal that night, and I'm going to want to have a beer with the guys. Next weekend it is.
The next weekend rolled around, and of course there were parties and events with our girls that we just knew prohibited healthy living, so we pushed the cleanse back to the next weekend. We figured it wouldn't kill us if those toxins and liver deposits hung around in our bodies for just seven more days, and besides the date on the cleanse said it didn't expire for another three months. Renewed with our excitement over a robust, fit future, we poured ourselves a scotch and toasted our good judgement.
Slowly those bottles of cleanse moved to the back of the refrigerator, barely visible behind the jugs of lemonade, Chipotle leftovers and that hubcap-sized disc of brie I picked up at Costco. We tried not to look at those vessels of good health beckoning to us from the back row, because they just reminded us of disappointment and failure. Occasionally when we'd open the refrigerator we'd feign interest in making another attempt.
Rigel: We should really do that cleanse this weekend.
Me: Can you move, I'm trying to get to the leftover Chipotle guac.
As you can guess, those three months rolled around pretty quickly and we eventually just poured it all down the drain, the entire time promising ourselves we'd buy some new bottles and begin anew. I think we also spent some time making fun of people who were so obsessed with being healthy and who did juice cleanses, and agreed that they were just trying to cover up for other problems like not being able to enjoy life or appreciate a monstrous wheel of really good cheese.
We made a pact right there at the sink that we wouldn't turn into those people, congratulated each other on our ability to admit defeat and sliced open a package of jerky to celebrate.
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