Good morning: I DIDN'T DRINK THE GIN! I just said no, like Nancy Reagan taught me. It was damn close—I was hanging out with friends, and the gin and tonics were flowing, and I mean, there's a whole song about gin and juice... but it just didn't seem worth it, and I have a lot of future gin days ahead of me.
I'd made dinner plans for this week, and when I admitted I could only drink juice because I was on a juice fast, my friend Micah said we should have a juice feast. So with a crew of friends and a lot of produce, we set out to juice. Except we didn't have a juicer, so it was more of a blend feast. And the concoctions were pretty gross. Very colorful, but gross. It was then that I started to appreciate the premade juices, strange as they sometimes are, for at least being well thought-out. For example, last night we made a "juice" with all the orange things—oranges, orange bell peppers, and carrots. Not tasty. Also, carrot chunks. (They said it was better with gin.) But it was still a rad party, and everyone tried eating raw foods. Until they gave up and made an ovenful of naan, and then they started one of those multiple-drinks-in parties where you pull out everything in the fridge for toppings—first hummus, then salami, then smoked salmon, then... I have to stop typing delicious words. I munched on bell peppers and strawberries, like a pet rabbit.
I only have two days left to go. I hate to admit it, but it's getting way easier and it really isn't freaking me out anymore. Who knew eating solid food was something you could have a willpower fight with? The only worrisome thing is that everyone I talk to says I look like a crazy person. But that's not really unusual.