I haven’t felt much like writing this week. I haven’t felt like doing much of anything, unless lying limp upon my sofa counts as some sort of activity. You see, I agreed to do a “liver cleanse” and it has left me a shell of my formerly vibrant (cough) self. A dear friend of mine has done this before, and was expressing the wish to do it again, to get rid of any remaining vestiges of the chemo she went through last year. I jumped at the chance to join because:

A) It’s good to support your friends, and
B) Cookie baking carries it’s own risk of potential, long term consequences…although the liver is not necessarily where I’ve noticed the “toxins” pooling. (Is there such a thing as a booty cleanse? I really should look into it, if there is.)

Also, this was a heck of a hard winter and I was ready to make some sort of grand gesture. Some metaphysical purging of the crud that has accumulated around my liver, sure, but mostly my spirit. A cleanse seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

What does a cleanse consist of, you might ask? Well, mostly it consists of me complaining, if this week has been any indication. My friend soared through the week. She was energetic. She was cheerful. She was nearly singing with the inherent joy of life.

I was dying. Die. Ing.

First off, and most shallowly, you should remember that I’ve spoken to you before of my love of food. I’m the sort of gal whose first thoughts upon awakening center around creating an inventory of that day’s available cheeses. Separating me from dairy renders my days bleak and dreary. To say nothing of the embargo on coffee, chocolate and -sniff- toast. Why not just outlaw puppies while you’re at it? Puppies and rainbows and pretty shoes and Christmas. That’s right; I’ve been living this week in a Christmas-less universe and it isn’t pretty. I don’t even know how I managed to get out of bed, what with the depression and all…sob…

Secondly, my body did NOT take kindly to the change. I’ve always joked that “THIS (gesture wildly around self) runs on carbs.” Little did I know how true that was. A random and significant dip in carbohydrate consumption results in Lanie hopping around, clutching various parts of her spasming body and cursing quite audibly, never mind the children within earshot.

Not that it was all bad. Persistent headaches, debilitating leg pain and random waves of nausea aside, I learned that it is possible to eat in a way that is deliberate and calm. That I don’t actually need caffeine to get out of bed. That it is possible to live in a world where a truly excellent sandwich isn’t the necessarily the highlight of my day. Whether or not I want to live in such a world is still up for grabs, but at least I’m considering it.

Tomorrow is our last day of the cleanse and my friend has been called out of town. The way I figure it, there are two possible scenarios for tomorrow;

Scenario #1– I am a good girl, get up, drink my yogi tea and my chunky cleansing drink, pack my raw veggies and go to work, like a grown up.
Possible Scenario #2– (phone rings. Once…twice…my friend picks up)
FRIEND: hello?
ME: HI! I was just calling to make sure you were gone…I mean, to make sure you got out okay. (sound of crunching..)
FRIEND: (suspiciously) Lanie, are you eating toast?
ME: (guilty pause)…no? (sound of toaster popping) Gotta’ go! Have a great trip!

…crunch….crunch….crunch….

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The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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