What I Learned From The Cleanse

This week I decided to try my first cleanse because, well, frankly jeans season intimidates me more than swimsuit season.

Hear me out.

Summer is filled with shorts, tank tops and swimsuits – all of which I can wear and just let my fat flag fly free. People are so distracted by my arms and thighs that they totally don't even notice my muffin top. But jeans... well, denim can only stretch so far and nobody likes walking around Target like the Tin Man.

And when it comes to my health and well-being I almost always opt for the method that allows me to cut as many corners as possible to achieve maximum results, even if it may not be considered “safe” or “legal.”

Hence, I did a cleanse. And it really wasn't too awful. You know, if you don't mind the feeling of your stomach eating its own self. I made three shakes a day, and I use the word 'shake' very loosely, because the word 'shake' usually conjures up images of something edible; appropriate for human consumption. Only one of the three shakes did not taste like elephant butt.

The ingredients were like Rihanna and Chris Brown. Separately, fine. No problems, no police reports. We all get along. But stick them in a blender and there's a crime scene and an ER nurse is taking photos of the trauma.

Raspberries, celery, cucumbers, mango, kale, bananas, spinach, apples, avocado, almond milk... I mean, not things I dream about being on the menu for my last meal, but I can eat each without standing over the sink retching as I try to swallow without letting it touching my tongue.

But God did not intend blackberries to be mixed with cayenne pepper.

I tried putting the shake in a shot glass, stand on the dining room table and have my kids blow whistles and shine flashlights around the room as I shimmied my pants off. Because that seemed to work in college. But no.

I tried holding my nose and taking a big gulp every time one of the Kardashians said the word 'like'. No.

Nothing worked. I preferred starvation to the “shake.” The final chapter of the cleanse was a bath in Epsom salt and lavender drops. Which, I don't know about you, but with a 4, 3 and 1-year-old I haven't had time to take a bath in like ten years. I'm lucky if I can wet my armpits with a baby wipe on the way to the grocery store.

The conversation with my husband went something like this:

“Hey, can you get the kids ready for bed and read them a story by yourself tonight? I need to take my cleanse bath.”

“You are out of your mind.”
 
And... scene.  

By the end of day #1 I decided I was done with the cleanse. “This is ridiculous,” I thought as I ate the toothpaste.

But then I stepped on the scale the next morning and I had lost four pounds. And that was PRE-POOP weight y'all. I found religion. At this rate I would be down to my grade school weight by the end of the month and sharing clothes with my 4-year-old by Halloween. All of my wildest dreams were coming true.

My physical reaction to starvation was interesting. In some ways, my senses became so much sharper. Like, I swear I could smell the type of bread my neighbors were using for toast, and I could spot a squirrel eating an acorn 300 yards away.

But on the other hand I kept mixing up the gas and the brake and I forgot to put on pants when I walked outside to get the mail.

By lunch the third day I decided to eat the ingredients of the shake separately, which was slightly helpful.

I ate the apple. I ate the lime. I ate the pineapple. I ate an entire cucumber. I got through two of the four celery stalks when I noticed the open jar of peanut butter on the counter from my kids' lunch. My arms acted independently from my brain and slathered it on the remaining two celery stalks.

Then I figured I had already blown it so I ate a turkey and cheese sandwich. With chips. And cottage cheese. All in one bite. Then I blacked out in a moment of self-preservation and woke up in a pile of empty Starbucks cups wearing a Crisco can as a hat.

And right then and there I made the decision that from now on I will only use tried and true methods of weight loss.

Those wishing to contribute to my liposuction fund may do so via my Pay Pal account.

_{Photos: Hannah Mayer}