So I’m now on Day #4 of the Green Vegetable Detox. And Uncle Gaz ain’t copin’.
I wake up tired. I have the shakes, and my head feels doughy and vague. I have never been Jonesing for a coffee so badly, I feel like a junky.
I stagger to the kitchen to rustle up some grub. Actually I wish I did find a grub hiding out in all these greens, I could do with the protein.
Meal #10: Broccoli, beans and snow peas. Hip-fucking-hurrah. I try to drink some of the supplement and trick myself into thinking it is coffee, but my gag reflex threatens to trigger a green volcano, so I give up.
I am then given the fantastic news that as part of the program, I need to have blood work done. I’m not sure what they are testing for, some sort of scientific jargon was used, but I pretty much switched off after I heard the word “fast”.
Apparently I am to fast overnight until after my blood test the following lunchtime. As much as I am hating green vegetables, I hate the idea of eating nothing even more. I am hating Day #4, but I am seriously dreading Day #5.
Meal #11: I can’t face another branch of broccoli, and the thought of Brussels sprouts makes me nauseous. I end up boiling up a plate of beans and snow peas. I give up after a handful of mouthfuls.
Meal #12: Zucchini, broccoli and beans, washed down with water. I have very little to say about this meal, suffice to say I laboured over every mouthful, knowing it would be my last for the next 18 hours or so. I feel absolutely melancholy. I need a hug. Today was very tough.
I continue to struggle to sleep. When I do, the dreams are more like hazy hallucinations. I dream I’m trekking through the wilderness. I’m lost, but in a hurry. I crash through undergrowth. I stumble across fast flowing rapids. I climb, and climb and climb. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I need to get there – and fast. When I half wake I realise I need to use the bathroom, and I now understand the urgency. I don’t want to burden my good readers with any of the gruesome details, but suffice to say I’ve never “moved faster”.
Day #5: Speaking of fast, that’s the theme of the day.
Meal #13: One glass of water. Medium rare.
The bear from my previous post is my constant companion today. My stomach has never been this noisy before. The best way to describe it is unpleasant “squirrely” noises. Wait, that’s unfair on squirrels. I love squirrels. I could eat a squirrel.
My forest friends and I spend an excruciatingly long morning watching the clock, counting down until my blood test.
Meal #14: One scotch and soda. Hold the scotch. Sigh.
Finally, I am able to head out to get my blood test done. I’m usually fine giving blood, but I was particularly wobbly walking out of the clinic afterwards.
Meal #15: I head home to feed the animals a late lunch of broccoli and snow peas. Even they seem to have grown tired of greens, as they refuse to shut up afterwards.
I am glad that I had the foresight to deliberately avoid scheduling any meetings this week, as I knew it could be dicey. However, I did have a product launch I promised a former business partner I would attend. I toss up cancelling, but figure it will be good to get out of the house, so I shower and head out.
Of course there’s a buffet.
Of course there’s an open bar.
Of course it’s a cornucopia of all things nice – seafood, cold cuts, mezze and cheese platters, along with a never-ending procession of wait staff, carrying tray after tray of a dazzling array of Hors d’oeuvres past my pallid, pleading eyes.
Of course there’s not a green thing in sight, besides some garnish and one lonely, bedraggled salad.
The soiree is otherwise pulsing with sophisticated, urbane people, laughing and exchanging witticisms, pausing only to stuff mouthful after mouthful of cheesy, creamy, gooey, dreamy vol-au-vents.
*wipes drool off keyboard*
My willpower is sorely tested. I go to the bar, and have to tell the bartender twice that I “only want a glass of water, please” (kill me).
I head to the buffet to fill my plate with a mix of salad leaves and several sprigs of parsley.
Needless to say, I am not the belle of the ball, and politely depart after about 30 minutes.
Day #5 ends with another visit to my porcelain throne. Who says it’s good to be the king?
Anyway, screw you all, I’m going to bed.