We have crossed the halfway point of my detox.
It’s for-shit.
…After cutting salt, sugar, booze, fast food, and preservatives, plus adding a vitamin regime, and tons of raw fruit and veg, I am only 5 pounds down from the day I fucking started.
Five.
…None of this has been worth five pounds. Ten would even be stretching it, but acceptable. Five is what you gain after a day of pizza, ice cream and beer…with maybe a burger on top. If you take that same shit away, reason states you should lose the same amount.
…It’s only fucking fair.
…If you take that stuff away across 11 days of time…you should be dumping weight faster than (enter analogy here…I’m too hungry and tired to think of one.)
…And that’s another thing: isn’t eating well supposed to make you feel awesome?! Aren’t you supposed to sleep better and go around like the happy chicks in Tampon commercials with all their running, biking, hiking, swimming, excess energy joy?
Cuz I don’t.
…If anything, I’m moodier and have to force myself just to take a flipping walk at saunter pace in the sunshine.
…It’s like a horrible perimenopause over here.
…Reason is telling me to just bunk it and go back to life as I know it. None of this is making me look, feel, or act like a better person. Back in the happy days of whiskey and hamburger patties…I was at least fun to be around. I’m even pissing myself off lately.
…But I will stick with it to the full run-out date, anyway. Because I’m not the giving up type. I will win this fucker by completing it, and then screw the lack of results as I will in theory have won anyway just by seeing it to the end.
…And then…
…I will have the most butter-filled, meat-coma-inducing, cream-sauce-covered meal you have ever seen, to celebrate. And I will drink whatever the hell I want to.
…And I will prob’ly have the best sleep and happiest following day in the past month, because of it.
Detox can suck it.
~D
