I’m equal parts hungry and exhausted. I’m also starting to smell phantom aromas—like roast chicken and apple pie in the oven. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had a morsel of food in 36 hours. And I’m not supposed to eat again until Sunday morning. Rather bizarrely, this is by design.
I’m doing the trendy new juice fast, the BluePrint Cleanse. Maybe you’ve heard of it? (They had a major marketing and public relations blitz, which includes letting journalists like myself try the $200 cleanse.) Three days worth of fresh juices get delivered to your doorstep (in groovy green neon totes that you’re meant to return). You drink them throughout the day, along with as much water and green tea as you want. It’s not total privation. The evening juice contains cashew pulp, and, in my new liquiterious state of mind, it’s as satisfying as a slab of steak.
My husband is counting the minutes until Sunday morning. See, I’m a tad irritable, and last night during Carrie Fisher’s new show, even with her razor sharp wit and super high energy, I almost started to snore. Luckily, I don’t smell bad, at least not yet. (The BluePrint Cleanse literature warns that toxin flushing can cause body odor.) But exhaustion and irritability aside, I do feel like my body is getting steam-cleaned. I’m even tempted to get the suggested colonic at the end of the juice cleanse. Anyone know a good place? I’ll be reporting back next week on the second half of the cleanse and how long I’m able to maintain my new purity. Kale with tahini dressing is going to become my new Cobb Salad. Really.
Have you ever done a cleanse? Was it excruciating? Tell us, here!
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