The Citrus Crash

Isn't it so pretty? The zingy citrus colour of the lemon complemented by the vibrant green of the celery leaf?

I've just had an epiphany. I've found my true calling in life. Cocktail making with a difference. This one won't give you a sugar rush, it doesn't taste half as good as a Mojito or a Cosmopolitan, it won't make you tipsy and it sure won't give you that extra confidence boost to go wild on the dancefloor. But at least it'll leave you squeaky clean on the inside and skinny, so damn skinny.

What more could a girl ask for?

I've just had my fourth pint for the day. And I feel no guilt for it.

I feel no pleasure either mind you.

But it did taste a lot nicer than drinking it out of a mug or plastic bottle.

I got a bit carried away with the whole cocktail making thing and squeezed a little lemon pulp into the juice (Stanley Burroughs*, I'm sorry.) It appears I might be breaking the rules. I'm a cheat. A fraud. I deserve to get fat. (I've also been chewing on sugarfree gum all day. Double penalty points.)

Apart from releasing my frustration, angst and creative juices in the kitchen, I haven't been having too bad of a day. I've now survived almost two days on a liquid diet. Chuck Noland, Mr. Castaway, you've got nothing on me.

The hunger pains are still here and I'm feeling a little weak but I'm still rearing to go. I feel invincible, me. Although I have a feeling my happy diet bubble might be burst tomorrow when I attend a magazine launch and everyone around me is sipping on much tastier liquids and munching on solid food.

For those of you who can't get enough of my toilet escapades, you'll revel in knowing the Sea Salt Flush kicked in this afternoon. The less said about that, the better. But I feel good that my body is finally praising me for drinking all that disgusting water. Even if I can't afford to be more than a few metres away from a bathroom.

Being on this diet is making me realise just how much food is consumed on a daily basis. And a lot of it unnecessarily. Our bodies can survive with far less than what we're feeding them with. Or at least without the junk. I say this now in a moment of elation but when my hair starts falling out by the end of the week, my joints start popping out of their sockets and my skin looks grey and drab and flaky, I might have to eat my words and take them back.

Although having had an ice-cream craving frenzy earlier this morning, the food I'm most longing for is healthy. Brocolli and salmon, a nice fresh salad, some nuts, pure orange juice, hummous, fresh fruit... the only time I crave the bad stuff is when I see it presented so delicately and sex-ed up in an ad on TV. So I figure this tells me something important, our bodies only need the healthy stuff, the junk and all the treats is just us being a little greedy and doing an Oliver, "Pleaser sir, can I have some more?".

And why wouldn't you want more? It tastes so damn good.

P.S. The universe was paying me back for my greedy pulp inclusive ways. As I sipped away on my juice the thin straws got clogged up with small pieces of pulp making me turn blue in the face as I sucked on my straw, oblivious to the obstruction. *Sigh*

* Mr. Burroughs is the creator of this diet which is also known as the Master Cleanse.