I have gotten over the initial hunger hump and slowly have moved my bowels into what I refer to as the “bombs away” moments. Each morning after gulping down a quart of warm salt water, my intestines begin to rumble. Shortly after, I expel a liquid nasty from my being, which not even a proctologist might recognize.
But that is just the shit of this cleanse.
There are much more interesting things to talk about, for instance, the ways in which I see food.
Yesterday I was at the Bagby Hot Springs, a kitschy Oregonian getaway in the base of the Mount Hood National Park. Inside the public bathing area there are four log tubs for single people and couples who want to get their cozy on. There is also a larger round tub for groups of six. I happened to be soaking in the group tub with a few Koreans and my friend Dakota. Adjacent to the round tub, bathing in one of the personal log tubs, a man in his early forties devoured several pieces of cold pizza and two bologna sandwiches on white bread whilst his fuzzy dog licked his face. At first I didn’t notice the fact that he was eating while bathing. The thought that this might be absolutely revolting didn’t even occur to me. All I witnessed was the gentleman’s pizza and sandwiches and desperately longed for a bite. It was only after staring unabashedly for several minutes at his pizza greased chops, that I completely lost my desire for food all together. This, I told myself is exactly why I am cleansing, to rid myself of all gluttonous embarrassing behavior.
Due to the optimal nutrition the Master Cleanse provides, I find my body feels quite nourished and satiated, yet my mind ravenously craves food. Textures, fats, and a myriad of flavors have somehow misplaced themselves in my memory patterns. Like a lover I haven’t seen in a while, I cannot place the face or taste of foods I ate just a few days ago. I also find myself craving foods in their more simplistic form. A single almond, a teaspoon of olive oil, a sprig of broccolini, a slice of cucumber, and a corn kernel all seem so hearty to me. A single almond seems like a Thanksgiving feast. A corn kernel would fill me up like a bucket of KFC chicken.
The ways in which I spend my time are much different as well. Because food is not an option for me, I have a hunger for other things. Yesterday I found myself yearning to speak Arabic. My brain wants to devour something, since food isn’t plausible, Arabic will suffice.
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