I ate the earth and it simulated the symptoms of rabies.

Scratch that.


On Juice Cleanse Day #4.5, I wasn't starving, or bored--I was filled with RAGE.  Deep, dark, heavy, RAGE--at my kids for eating a cookie at the grocery store, at the grocery store for selling food, at God for MAKING food, at Mike for noticing the smell of the kid's food, at the person who lent us the devil's tool (the juicer), at the farmers who grow food.  You name it, I wanted to spew profanities at it and beat it to death.  And then cook it over an open flame and EAT it.  Enter the MADNESS.


On a normal day, the hours between 3:00-6:00 p.m. are undoubtedly, the hardest; I am most likely to snack on goldfish or cookies or whatever is sitting on my counters and wash it down with a fresh diet coke.  During the juice cleanse, this desire is still present--however, when it is offered a sacrifice of natural fruit and vegetable juices, it becomes ANGRY.   Like, foaming-at-the-mouth ANGRY.   Being on a juice cleanse is a lot like having rabies, apparently.


So.  I stuck with the plan and I drank the juice, and clearly I wasn't hungry anymore--but I had developed a violent hatred for lemons (previously my go-to fruit) and, as previously stated, I was just really, REALLY filled with rage.  I made my kids what smelled like the MOST delicious casserole ever eaten by man, and then I cried a little, and then Mike and I went ahead and mixed ourselves up an asparagus/ tomato/ cilantro/ lemon/ broccoli/ eggplant combo, except that I also added a beet--and I'm just not sure what the procedure is on juicing a beet, because it tasted like dirt, and I'm thinking I should have peeled it.  I did scrub it for like, 10 minutes, but there is just no way to make a beet NOT appear dirty (red flag).  In any case, I heated it and tried to pretend it was soup, but who are we kidding, it was like eating the actual, unseasoned earth.

I should tell you, that Mike watched this movie "Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead", and that's where this whole adventure into shock therapy started; I however, got the Clif's Notes version from him, and decided to *roll* with it.  I kept waiting to feel AMAZING--and while I suppose I do have more energy to play with the kidlets, this is somewhat overshadowed by the fact that I feel as if I might kill them if they don't hit the "Proud Mary" routine on Just Dance 2.  So then, I got online and decided to research this whole "juice cleanse"--and apparently there are some opinions out there that this is a REALLY bad idea, particularly if you are leaning heavily on the fruit juices, because it can throw your blood sugars WAY out of whack.  And while I am throwing lots of greens into my juices, there is no doubt I am drinking something like 15 oranges and lemons a day.  Too much?  Because I think "the rage" might be me slipping in-and-out of diabetes.  Or, it's possibly the toxins leaving my body, depending on who you talk to.  I don't even know anymore.  If I could put this in terms of aviation (why the hell not), I can't even tell the difference between the sky and the ground.  Or I'm flying by sight in a fog storm.  Or the oxygen masks are about to release, and I need to save myself before I help the children.   It's baaaaaaaadddd,  people.


I'm not gonna lie.  I was so desperate, that last night I ate the broccoli out of the kid's dinner casserole.  And it was freaking GLORIOUS--and that was the moment I knew the cleanse had worked magic, when I tasted broccoli and almost wept out of sheer GLORY.  That broccoli was glowing and it has officially saved my soul--and I just knew I couldn't go back to a diet of strict juices.  It would be irresponsible, really.  I believe that after four days, I have been officially "cleansed"--but instead, am now aiming to stay with a combination of juices and a fairly raw/vegetarian diet for a while longer.  This seems like a good compromise, and the right thing to do, because the rabies symptoms have subsided and I no longer imagine that the children smell like chicken all the time.  Bonus.


As I continue to hallucinate on vegetables, I will keep you up to date.  You're words of encouragement, or mockery, or you're advice that I might (inadvertently) smell like cabbage have made this WORTH it, friends.