I'm about halfway through this goddamn juice fast. If I had opted for one that lasted three days, it would almost be time for that free cheeseburger from Cienna. As it is, I'm going till Friday. DUMB IDEA, ME.
I'm trying to ration better for daytime, so I saved half of last night's juice dinner for this morning. And Kelly O gave me some barley tea that tastes like crackers—it's like a snack! Whenever I talk about having a tea snack, Cienna almost cries. And then she eats something.
Yesterday, as I was losing the will to live, I went to Strawberry Moon Juice's website. I was looking for some sparkling copy telling me what, exactly, the point of all this was, which I realized I'd forgotten to think about in the first place. I wanted to believe, even if it was through a juice-haze. There was NOTHING. There's a blog that mentions studies or articles on fasting, but I guess I wanted the full Gwyneth, something dazzling about cleansing and freshness and how it will prevent cancer and make me smarter/better. Nope!
Instead, I feel alternately poetic (lines from Sylvia Plath poems about sickness and injury keep running through my head) and desolate. I am cold and tired all the time. I have a headache. I have to walk past two pizza restaurants on my route home.
I'm going to go drink some lunch.