I’m one hour into my 3-day cleanse. I say to myself, “I think it’s working?” I do that little dance where you turn to the side and see if your belly has magically inverted. “I mean my jeans are definitely not cutting off my circulation today.”
Fast forward a couple of hours to my first FIBER SWEEP drink. It’s somehow slimy and gritty all at once. I make the mistake of drinking this concoction slowly, which allows time for the fiber to coagulate right there at my desk. The last quarter literally requires chewing.
Later, I drink my first vanilla fresh shake, a beverage that I am required to drink with both lunch and dinner. Despite the “DELICIOUS” claims printed on the flyer, this shake is barely swallowable. I quickly learn that chugging is the only option. Fortunately, a sprinkle of cinnamon helps ease my gag reflex. Unfortunately, the cinnamon does not alleviate the gas. Vanilla “fresh” … the irony.
Before I fall asleep that first night, I declare to the world (via a solitary text to my boyfriend) that I am quitting the cleanse. Though quitting is not in my nature, I am certain this cleanse is worthy of a quit. I am done.
Seven hours later, I awake with renewed gumption. I tell myself I’ll do it for science. FOR SCIENCE, I say.
Going into this cleanse, I was mostly worried about going hungry for three solid days. Interestingly, this was not the case. Though I ate about 1,200 calories per day each of the three days (the bulk of which came from shakes), my stomach felt unnaturally full. I did not feel COMPLETELY REFRESHED as the box implied I would. Honestly, I felt angry (or was it just hangry?). As sad as this is to mention out loud, I felt like my days had lost their color. In my world, an injection of interesting food is akin to bumping up the contrast on a picture being edited for Instagram. Everything looks so much brighter, so much fuller that way.
