The day of my final checkup with Murad (one day after my last cleansing day), I was feeling crazy high from my results. My co-workers, still in the beginning phases of their intense detox plans, were pumped to see that I had stuck to it, not cheated once (OK, so it was only three days), and that I had an awesome outcome.
This also happened to be the day of our company-wide BBQ where there were sure to be burgers, chips, and buckets of beer. I walked in, couldn't care less about the food (funny how losing six pounds can do that to you), and had a fantastic time. All the jokes that had been made during the three days of detox about the foods I would eat when "re-tox" commenced weren't that funny anymore as now I really wanted to keep the weight off. And now, one month later, I have. I'm also about to embark on an intense 30-day exercise plan, something I know I would not have been as open to before this experience.
So I'm a believer -- in three-day detox plans that is.
Twenty-one days? Not so much.
When I think "detox," I think torture. In a frantically dramatic fashion I picture myself trapped inside a grass hut yogi den for days on end with a bunch of highfalutin' hippies dry brushing each other between massive gulps of kale smoothies. Thanks, but no thanks.
So when my co-workers and I were assigned to follow and write about our journeys on detailed detox diets, I thought about ways I could a) come up with a really good excuse for not participating (Death in the family? No, I can't cry on cue. I'm pregnant? Nah, too hard to fake.) or b) find the easiest, quickest detox known to yuppiedom. Because really, who else starves for fun except yuppies?
Due to the fact that I am rational on most days, and that with serious consideration my vanity likes the idea of clearer skin and perhaps dropping a dress size, I chose option "b," which lead me to Jay Robb's "Fruit Flush" -- a detox promising to purge my body of toxins, help me "regain peace of mind," and (my favorite part) "lose up to nine pounds in three days." Three days?! I can totally do this, I thought, as I laughed evilly at my waif of a 97-pound co-worker Sarah, who signed on for a 21-day detox diet. And yum, I get to eat fruit. Let's bang this thing out.
