The Fasting Diary: Day 1

A cross between a cry for help and a PSA, the next few items are extracted from a diary and emails to some pals I wrote while attempting to do a “cleansing” fast shortly before I moved from Santa Cruz to Sacramento.

It’s 3:15 p.m. on Saturday, and I started a fast today. And because
I’m trying not to think about food right now, I’ve decided you all
need to suffer along with me. Sympathy notes encouraged.

I decided to do it as a “spring cleaning”-lose a couple pounds-get the
cobwebs-out thing. I did a little surfing online last week, checking
out possible fasting regimes (did you know there’s something called a
“potato fast”–whatever…). I decided to go with one that C**** went
on, a “lemonade fast.” It’s 10 days long, but hey, I get to drink
lemonade. So, okay, I’m going with it. I download the recipe and
“instructions.”

The fast involves drinking 6 – 10 glasses of “lemonade” each day,
supplemented by as much water and herbal tea as I want. First, I have
to overcome my annoyance at the rather zealous instructions…which,
among other things, highly recommend laxative teas and enemas (ahem)
and tell me very authoritatively that foods such as milk, meat, and
cheese are “toxic.” I’m also treated to an extended discussion of the
amount of toxins in my mucous membranes, liver, kidneys and other
organs. Well, the liver part is probably true. But these people take
themselves far too seriously. Screw it…where’s the lemonade part?

Oh, here it is: a glass of water with two tablespoons of fresh lemon juice mixed with two
tablespoons of organic grade B maple syrup, with a quarter teaspoon of
– what? — cayenne pepper. Hmmm. I investigate further. It turns out
that the cayenne pepper is necessary to “warm my blood.” Well…uh,
okay. What with the whole being a mammal thing, I’ll take it. Next, I
am assured (again, in an officious tone reeking of knowledge greater
than my own) that I will receive *full* nutritional benefits from the
lemon juice and maple syrup. My body, the instructions note, will need
no other vitamins or minerals beyond those supplied by these two
miraculous foods. Who are these guys kidding?

Anyway, suspending my disbelief, I plunge into the abyss. I am not
sure if I am going for the whole 10-day thing (these guys sound a bit
*extreme* to me, so the claim that anything less than 10 days will do
absolutely no good is under advisement).  I squeeze some lemons,
measure out the required amounts of maple syrup and mix it all up. I
take a sip. Hey now, that doesn’t suck. I’m certain it will by Monday,
when I know I won’t want to see another lemon as long as I live. I’m
shooting for Monday to end the fast, but may go longer if I am feeling
okay. My only remaining question is “Why grade B maple syrup? Why not
A? Why? Why?” The all-knowing ones do not deign to answer. (Doesn’t
matter…I went with grade A. Because I’m worth it.)

Time for the cayenne. I sprinkle a bit into the mixture, and decide
it’s not quite a quarter teaspoon. I gently, gingerly,
ever-so-carefully tilt the little spice bottle over the lemonade
and…well, a bit more than planned comes out. I suspect my blood will
be sufficiently warmed. As I drink my first batch, I find that, in
fact, *everything* is warm: starting with my cheeks and lips, my
tongue, my esophagus, all the way to my stomach. I resolve to use less
cayenne in the next batch. Also, it is morning, which is when I am
accustomed to drinking coffee. What to do? Alarmed at this horrifying
turn of events, I think about it for a few minutes, holding the empty
carafe. Finally, the answer comes to me. The fast allows for herbal
tea–which is, essentially, plant matter steeped in hot water. Coffee
is plant matter. One can “brew” tea, and that same miraculous verb
applies to the process for making coffee. Well, I’m satisfied: coffee
counts as herbal tea. I brew my damned coffee.

The morning went fine, a few minor hunger pangs…quickly obliterated
by the cayenne-impregnated lemonade. (Now I know why it’s in
there…once my tastebuds start burning, I forget the hunger pangs.) I
open a book to take my mind off of eating. The book is Peter Mayle’s
“Toujours Provence.” After the second detailed description of the
gastronomic delights of a 10-course meal, I realize that I am reading
a very bad book. I go to the bookstore, then the pet store, then the
video store. It has occurred to me that I am desperately trying to
think about something other than food. I go to the herbal store and
buy a wild batch of herbs to make a decongestant steam for this
afternoon. On a whim, I buy a Neti Pot, which is essentially a little
teapot that you use to pour saltwater into your sinuses. I’m so cool.
I am going to have the cayenne-lemonade-cleanest mucous membranes in
Santa Cruz–and I am fairly certain that is saying something.

In pursuit of, uh, purity?

Click here to read Day 2.