For the past six days I have been on a restricted diet and have been shoveling down 12 herbal pills a day and 30 drops of a random substance intended to clean out my urinary tract. I feel like I have swallowed a sharp stick and its poking through my lower colon. I am chronically thirsty because the drops are probably diuretics, I am chronically hungry because the pills flush me out and the diet is extremely limiting and not fulfilling. Even when I do eat and my belly is full, my mouth is shrieking at me to give it something with some flavor. I love fruits and vegetables but perhaps Alberta is lacking in the tasty, juicy, succulent selection that I got used to in BC. Alberta has beef, and beef is not allowed. Alberta has.... sausage? again, sausage is on the no list. So I eat carrots and well, more carrots.
Six days in and still six days away from the finish line, I dropped out of the race. It wasn't an issue of lack of will power but rather a break of mental clarity. My stomach hurts, for six days I have been wincing from the pain and suppressing thoughts that this can't be good for me. It really hit me today when I was standing in the kitchen, famished. I picked up a banana and then remembered I am not allowed tropical fruit, so that immediately canceled out the mango and kiwi also smiling up at me. I opened the pantry, a bag of vegetable root chips: taro, beets, sweet and yukon potatoes, all deep fried in olive oil, permitted according to the "Wild Rose detox". So I had a little bowl of deep fried goodness only to find myself once again writhing from the shattered glass that was digging into my intestines. What sense does it make to eat potato chips rather than tropical fruit with claims of being healthier. So I quit. I took out the "bad" yogurt, according to Wild Rose, and I had a big heaping spoonful of full fat, calcium and probiotic rich goodness. Then I spoiled myself with a smooth and satisfying Stella Artois, even in the proper tall stemmed glass. Within minutes I felt at ease, perhaps not as "clean", but definitely more well rounded and completely satisfied.
I feel for the women that spend their lives attempting to restrict the food that passes through their lips. Constantly succumbing to the demons that control their hunger pangs, only to start over come morning. It is a terrible cycle that will permeate every pore in her being, it will damage every relationship and overshadow every potential kodak moment. That is how I have felt for the past week: hungry, in pain and numb.
I am not a heavy drinker, I am not a consumer of heavy fat laden foods, and I am not into drugs of any sort. So it is questionable why I felt the need to cleanse at all. I hoped to feel lighter, more energetic and dramatically improved in some unidentifiable way. But each morning I wake with the taste of old man in my mouth, with dry flaky skin and with the energy levels of an infant post-feeding. I feel like a bobble head wandering through this life that people say is mine... yet this week it feels completely foreign and too much to handle on my own.
With the disposal of this fantastical idea of being completely clean, I can regain anticipation for simple things like food, coffee or a silky Stella Artois. I can enjoy conversation and a romantic atmosphere on Valentines day, rather than pre-reading menus and deciding if I can possibly find a meal item that satisfies the detox requirements. I can drink wine, get tipsy and wake up with a fog that will soon pass. I look forward to tomorrow, a morning without scum on my tongue and a sharpness within my lower abdomen. I can now bask in the rays of moderation and enjoy enough to satisfy my want without brushing against the edge of gluttony. And I will still be clean.
