Day six. I feel mostly fine, though slightly bloated by substantial liquid intake, a little week in the arms, legs, groin, and eye area, a tad groggy in my cabesa, and just a touch like I am missing out on pretty much everything that is going on around me.
When I first started this cleanse, I had rounded up a troupe of five people to partake. By the end of the first day, one had already fallen off the wagon, day two, another, day three, another. On day five I was left to fend for myself, a lone donkey click clacking her way through a parched desert. Alas.
I admit it was much easier for me to forsake food with others whom were also doing the same. One whom suffers enjoys the comforts of others whom suffer with them.
No matter how tempting bread, cheese, and Saudi Arabian finger sandwiches can be, I carry on, marking days off of my calendar with a giant X as though I am serving a prison sentence.
But my innards will love me for this. Thank you kindly, they say, with farts and blurbs and odorous fervor.
Eating makes up more of my life than I believed it would. My morning ritual of pressing fresh coffee grounds into my French Press and toasting up a slice of pumpernickel bread have been replaced by three hearty glasses of tepid salt water followed by squatting. Handfuls of nuts, a ripe peach, and a salad are now lemonade guzzles burning a bothersome sour patch on the surface of my tongue.
If I sound cynical, it's because I am. Though I am not hungry, I miss the use of my teeth, I miss eating with people around a table, I miss a multitude of flavors, I miss the rituals of gathering food and cooking.
Four more days. XXXX
Eating with stranger looks bit awkward but at times it seems too nice.
Posted by: Diet Menu | May 15, 2009 at 09:24 AM