I have a strong affinity for all things clean. My mother’s Kirby vacuum cleaner, circa 1992, is treated as the third Coghlan child—so I’m assuming this is a genetic trait. One I am quite fond of. My hope is that this gene will be passed on from generation to generation. A girl can dream, can’t she?
But, where the affinity comes from is beside the point. I like to clean and I like for things to be clean. I brush my teeth incessantly, shower upwards of twice each day, and have no shame in a good Lysol cleanse from time to time. So, when my friend brought to me the idea of engaging in an intestinal cleanse, I immediately hopped on board. No questions asked.
“The Master Cleanse” was brought to us by her brother, a sort of guru on all things new-age. Having cleansed himself of all internal toxins, this 10-day liquid diet seemed doable—that was, until I did it. The goal was to go 10 days without food, subsisting on a sort of lemonade-maple syrup-cayenne pepper cocktail. Using only organic lemons, grade B Vermont maple syrup, and cayenne pepper cultivated in Cayenne, New Guiana of course.
It seemed simple: start your day off right by binging on a quart of warm salt water—a natural laxative jump starting the intestinal tract—and when hunger strikes, delve into some cayenne pepper lemonade. Piece of cake. Ironically a piece of cake was my food of choice coming out of the cleanse—which lasted for a grand total of 24 hours. What a shame.
Ready to rid my body of all toxins, I chugged the quart of salt water, dry heaving between gulps. Underestimating how long it would actually take me to completely swig back 32 ounces of oceanic poison, my cup was empty only 20 minutes before I had to head to work. And in a more figurative sense—I would be empty soon after.
Having flashbacks to my travels in the Third World, doubled over in pain, hoping my colon would some day again function normally, I casually excused myself nearly 11 times in two hours. I wish I was kidding. I can only imagine what my boss thought was going on. It was awkward.
The salt water was Drano to my intestinal track, unplugging any possible clogs built up over the past 21 years. I was an empty vessel. I craved foods I hadn’t thought about in ages, really wanting to hone down Maine’s finest selection of salt water taffy. How this was possible after the prior interaction with salt water I do not know. Was I hungry? No. I was simply looking forward to the next nine days, and imagining the hunger that would come.
My mood swung radically about midday and I morphed into a truly bitter human being, cursing everyone I saw drinking lattes and frappuccinos. I think this was stage one in my “toxin” release. In a ravenous state, I convinced myself that my liver just could not handle the salt shock every morning so I had to quit for the overall betterment of my health. So, it wasn’t the piece of carrot cake I purchased around 10:30 p.m. that made me crack, it was really my acute knowledge of liver maintenance. |
