T comes home from work one day and says, “My trainer put together a cleanse I’m going to do next week. V wants to do it to.”
“Okay. I’m in.”
5-day cleanse… how hard could it be, right?
The cleanse consisted of a strange combination of foods that were to be eaten in the same order each day. These foods consisted of things like canned tuna, pears, oranges, unseasoned baked meat, plain baked veggies, hard-boiled egg whites, an entire cucumber, balsamic vinegar, and plain organic chicken broth. You also had to drink a gallon and a half of water per day, and drink absolutely no alcohol or coffee.
On Sunday, before the cleanse started, I told Ginge I had to go to the grocery store to prepare. When he asked what we were doing and I explained the cleanse, he decided he wanted to do it with us too… In retrospect, I never should have let him in on it.
Our refrigerator was packed to the gills with Tupperware upon Tupperware of cut-up, prepared food to take to work with us. I have never spent so much time planning my meals, and that part on its own was exhausting. Also, who would have thought Ginge would turn into a Cleanse Nazi??
At one point on day two, I’m sitting there minding my own business, nibbling on my hard-boiled egg whites when Ginge looks over and goes “No!”
“What???”
He peeks into my bowl and says, “Oh, I thought you were eating part of the yolk.”
O….M….G………
I’m cranky when I’m hungry. I’m also cranky on the same several days each month. This month, those cranky days aligned with me also being constantly hungry, and I may have turned into the Tazmanian Devil. There was an exercise program that was supposed to go along with this cleanse, but Ginge and I decided to start the Insanity program instead. So here we are, the four of us sipping on chicken broth, whining all day over group text about how hungry we are, and then sweating our asses off in the driveway (or at the gym), waiting to be skinny.
You’d think 5 days wouldn’t be a hard task. But when Tuesday comes around and you have your weekly softball game with no beers, it all-of-the-sudden becomes a problem. When your team goes to the bar to celebrate a victory, and you go straight home instead to eat some plain baked asparagus…really, that’s a little depressing.
Mid-week, T texts and asks if we have any questions about the cleanse that she should ask her trainer. I fired off several:
-Are we supposed to be pooping?
-How come I’m not pooping?
-Why is this called a cleanse and not a diet?
-What’s the reasoning behind the combinations of foods at each meal?
V didn’t have any questions, just one comment: “Tell your trainer she sucks.”
If we thought Monday through Thursday was bad… we were in for a rude awakening on Friday. V had already caved on day three when she was offered a free sandwich at work, but T was mainly on track, save a cheat or two (or four) for things like Hershey kisses. Ginge and I were following the cleanse perfectly… [while moaning and complaining the entire time]. Friday night its time for our last meal of the day. We had perfectly saved 4 ounces of chicken each, for the final cleanse meal. It was about 8:30 and we were starving. V had just made pasta, and the delicious smell of it in the kitchen lit a rage inside of me. I left the house to go grab some supplies for the next day, while leaving Ginge to put the four strips of plain chicken in the oven. I figured that was an easy enough task.
Five minutes later I get a picture text…. it was a baking sheet with THREE strips of chicken on it, with the message, “Guess who helped himself to two ounces of chicken?”
I wanted to murder somebody. I leave him alone with our precious protein and a 5-month-old puppy for five minutes, and next I’m going to be left to starve to death. Going to get more chicken was going to delay my shoving my pie-hole with food, and that did not make me happy. The dog, on the other hand, was in his glory for the rest of the evening.
We did it. We finished out the 5-day cleanse, and 5 days of Insanity. I didn’t really feel much skinnier, or cleansed… I actually felt bloated and full of poop, but I figured the amount of crankiness it caused had to be equivalent to weight loss. I set an early alarm Saturday morning to get a last workout in before a day and a weekend filled with wine tasting and other indulgent activities. Before meeting Ginge out on the driveway with a laptop and yoga mats, I went into the bathroom to weigh myself.
Less….than….three….pounds.
I lost less than three pounds. Five days of an 800 calorie diet, no alcohol, and Insanity workouts, and I lost an amount that I could have pooped out in one sitting. I tried to compose myself, but I was mad.
I went outside. Ginge was waiting for me.
“I’m in a really bad mood.”
“Why?”
“I lost less than 3-pounds.”
He made some comments about well, at least I lost something!!! [not helping]. We started the workout. We’re doing the jogging in place, starting the awful warmups and V walks up to the front porch, just returning home from the gym, and says hello. I continue my jogging and say, “I lost less than 3 pounds all week.”
“Ugh…. really? That sucks.”
Ginge, jogging away chimes in, “I only lost 11 pounds.”
I stopped jogging. Tears started flowing. Ginge looks at me, and says, “Are you crying??”
I nodded. I felt so defeated. He came over and hugged me. V offered me some pretty good words of encouragement; but the only ones that really helped were when she said, “Want me to make you some coffee??”
Oh coffee, how I’ve missed you. I could kiss her right now.
My sister was on her way over, so I figured I should pre-warn her about the crying to divert any rude fat comments that were bound to happen (isn’t that what sisters do… call each other fat)? It’s nicer to warn someone about the things you will probably cry about, before they say them and then have to deal with your crying.
“Just warning you I lost less than three pounds all week and I cried. Like actual tears.”
“Don’t cry, little baby. That’s just because your muscles ate up all of the fat…and muscle weighs more than fat!”
That gave me a good laugh all on its own.
What have I learned this week? T’s trainer sucks. I also learned that I could eat a perfectly healthy, well portioned, whole foods diet, not go to happy hour, do intense workouts and drink 5 million gallons of water for 5 days, and lose the same amount of weight as if I were to just take a laxative at the end of the week.
Go suck a fat one, cleanse. Bring on the wine and french fries.
xoxo
Gossip Girl
breathe in, laugh out 