Happy Monday! This is my breakfast. My entire breakfast.
  • Happy Monday! This is my breakfast. My entire breakfast.
A few weeks ago, a local juice company called Strawberry Moon Juice offered us a free juice fast. When you work in print journalism, if someone offers you free food, you don't question it. You say, "WHERE? WHEN?" So after a quick game of rock, paper, scissors, I won/lost the opportunity to cut solid food out of my diet for five days and drink whatever got delivered to the office in reusable glass bottles from the hippie factory.

I am a comfort animal—a devoted hedonist, a coffee addict, a person who many weekday mornings sits down to a full breakfast of sausage and eggs. My friends do not seem confident about the juice thing. This is, after all, a juice fast whose instructions read, in part: "If you absolutely need to eat, first try raw food because that keeps the enzymes from moving back into your digestion. But the food desire is more of a head game. You can easily survive 30 days without food." EASILY! Really. WHO KNEW. When I told my friend it meant I couldn't drink coffee, she laughed so hard she hit her head on a table.

The company representative said I could choose a three-day fast, but "many people say they start to feel really good on the third day and wished they had gone for the five-day instead." So I went for it. It consists of four 16-ounce juices a day. "Once your juice arrives, remove solid foods from your diet, flood the body with healthy nutrient-dense and enzyme-packed juice," warble the instructions.

This is three days worth of food. I mean juice. I mean, oh, good lord.
  • This is three days' worth of "food." I mean juice. I mean, oh, good lord.
The juice arrived this morning. But because we are nothing if not vigorously scientific here on Slog, Cienna has decided to go on her own QFC Juice Cleanse™, where she just makes up her own liquid diet based on whatever's on sale at the grocery store. Whose juice fast will be faster and juicier? We'll see. Might Cienna die? Eh, probably not. Does wine count as juice? YES.

In the time it took to write this post, I drank my first green-brown juice. It made my mouth tingle with fennel. I feel cleansed-er already. And hungry as fuck.

Meanwhile, Megan Seling just sent an officewide e-mail with a picture of the four different kinds of her fucking amazing cupcakes she just brought in for everybody. She says: "I even brought my culinary torch for the brulee!" I AM NOT KIDDING.

We shall see, Slog. We shall see.