The Detox Diaries: Day Three
My run to the bathroom ritual complete, I begin my day as it has the last couple, however, no oatmeal this morning. I cannot stomach the thought. Pills and tincture swallowed, I head to work, headache firmly in tow.
My Starbucks gal still looks at me strangely as I continue to change up my regular order: ‘Grande Jade Citrus Mint Green Tea’ say I. “What’s up?” asks she. “Detox and Cleanse,” say I. “Oh…Have a great day!” Ouch. I feel idiot-slapped.
Lunch comes and goes; the container of lemon juice in my desk begins to decrease as I pour it once again on my green salad. I spice it up today with a scoop of Tuna. Neither I nor Sarah my lunch lady behind the counter, have any idea how much mayonnaise was added to this innocent scoop of protein.
Day 3 and I am slipping. I glance around the restaurant in a guilty tuna induced haze. Did anyone see me order that?
My vegetarian husband is allowing a small amount of fish this cleanse and I have to shop for dinner tonight—fish chowder with lots of veggies from the Wild Rose Meal Plan and Cookbook. I remember making this last year when I did the cleanse—easy prep and quite yummy. My drum, drum, drum headache moves to just behind my eyes for the remainder of the day. Not debilitating but a constant reminder that my body is cleansing and detoxing, I virtuously keep telling myself. Everyone at my office is noticing my endless running back and forth to the Boys Room but no verbal jesting…yet.
My day runs much longer than anticipated so my trip to the St. Lawrence Market and Mike’s Seafood is re-routed to the local Metro store: Slim pickings for Cod, so I settle for Halibut instead.
Dinner is prepped, quickly assembled and delicious: Tons of texture from the vegetables in a lightly fish-scented broth. I have thrown in a couple of potatoes (allowed from the 20% preferable foods column) for some extra taste and texture. I plan to take the left-overs for lunch tomorrow, it’s quite good.
Things seem to be moving along quite well. I am going to officially weigh myself tomorrow and see what has happened.
Bedtime is early. In bed, I watch Peter Mansbridge for the first 20 minutes of The National, stomach and attitude grumbling at the television. Lights are out by 9:30.
A bathroom run wakes me from my slumber at around 11:30 (the herbal laxative is sure working) and the rest of the night is full-sleep.