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The ITG Juice Cleanse Diary: Day 3

ITG Juice Cleanse
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replies

First, catch up on Day 1 and Day 2. And now, Day 3:

Michael :

To My Dearest Juice,

I want you to know that this is the hardest cleanse diary entry that I’ve ever had to write. I’m looking around the room at the life we built over the past three days, your orange bottle caps and freshness seals scattered across the coffee table. My pillow…bunched up on the sofa from those siestas we used to love. Has it really been sixty hours? God. I remember the first day we met. The day Mick Harper and Juice Bottle became Mick Harper and Juice Bottle-Harper. No one believed we would be here sixty hours later. Not even us.

Earlier today, I was talking with Emily and Nick over Skype and they said my skin looked radiant. Radiant! First time in my life anyone has ever said that to me, and I give all the credit to you.

But I think we would both agree that things have been far from perfect for quite awhile. It pains me to say this, but...making drink to you last night felt like a chore. What happened to the juice I fell for three days ago? The juice that introduced me to new flavors? To new ways of cleansing? I opened our refrigerator this morning, and my stomach’s heart sank. This six of you just stared back at me. Bottled up. Cold. I just can’t keep living like this, and I know—I KNOW—you can’t be happy either.

Maybe three days were all we were meant to have. When I hear you talk about selling everything and moving to an ashram in India or opening up a pottery studio outside of Taos with your astrologist friend, Rainbow… I get scared. Those are you r hippie dreams, but what about what I want? I’m human and I need food. I’m not trying to make excuses for the spring-roll affair yesterday, but honestly I’ve needed food this whole time and I now know that’s something you’ll never be able to give me.

I’m going to Las Vegas tomorrow with my friends. I’ll be there for a few days and that should give you enough time to pack up your empty bottles. You can keep all of them if you’d like.

Juice, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but the oscillating deliriousness has convinced me that this is for the best. Who knows, maybe in six months or year we could give it another shot? Wheatgrass, perhaps.

Don’t forget to recycle,

Mick

Emily :

Guys, detoxing in complete solitude is way easier than detoxing IRL. At a lunch at locavore-heaven ABC Kitchen with the team from Tory Burch, I passed on the bread. I passed on the dayboat scallops and the homemade gelato. I nursed two glasses of coconut water and had a kale salad, which contained teeny, pea-sized croutons that I chose to fold in rather than separate out. Thus began my slippery slide into “cheating” on day three, turning what would have been a 72-hour cleanse into a 60-hour jumpstart into a healthier way of eating. That’s right: I’m looking on the bright side, despite the fact that, as my fellow juicers (with the exception of Michael; see above) would attest, no one in the Gloffice is glowing or feeling particularly great. However, I do feel more inclined to make healthier choices in the coming days. I won’t be “transitioning back” with pizza, though when the waitress at ABC brought over a mushroom-and-taleggio pie compliments of the chef, my mouth began to water. And I thought of Kendrick Lamar. I hummed a little song in my head, and it went something like this:

I am a sinner who’s probably gonna sin again

Lord forgive me, Lord forgive me

Things I don't understand

Sometimes I need to be alone

Bitch don't kill my vibe, bitch don't kill my vibe

I can feel your energy from two planets away

I got my drink, I got my music

I would share it but today I'm yelling

Bitch don't kill my vibe, bitch don't kill my vibe

Bitch don't kill my vibe, bitch don't kill my vibe

Cheers to treating your body well. And maybe having one Dr. Green Juice a day for a while, rather than 18 in three days.

Nick :

5pm: I turn to Emily, who's just eaten the accidental croutons on her salad, and tell her: “My skin looks the same, my eyes aren't any clearer, and this isn't fun or interesting anymore. What if my body is breaking down?” She tells me to write that thought down, so I don't forget to include it in my diary. Ugh. But let's back up...

My alarm wakes me up out of a vivid dream in which I'm eating a chocolate-chip cookie. That's the whole dream. Sad. But I really love cookies, and it turns out they're the only thing I miss having on a daily basis. Tate's, I just can't quit you.

I was hoping to greet day three with a newfound clarity and boundless energy. Instead, I feel basically the same. However, the upside, which I discover when I look in the mirror, is that I am now the proud owner of a (temporary) six pack. It's like the juicing scrubbed off those few pounds of abdominal insulation. Do I have Jill's regimen to thank, or the fact that I've consumed slim to no salt and no alcohol—and no Tate's—for three days?

One last thing, a word to the wise: if you must go to a work lunch while juicing, I recommend you do it only with the ladies from Tory Burch. I challenge anyone to find a more understanding, more cleanse-compassionate group of people. This doesn't mean I still didn't feel like an asshole when my mini beaker of wheatgrass arrived as my entrée [photo 7], when everyone else had ordered delicious salads and a pizza. But they made me feel normal.

Elizabeth :

Oh, juice cleanse, I shant miss you. Yes, it was a wonderful experiment, and yes, I am proud I gave it a shot, but man, am I psyched to eat whatever I want again. Yay to food! Good ol' cooked food! Perhaps I'll finally ejoy that cheeseburger I’ve been craving for three days… No, no—now that the cleanse is over, I’m going to attempt a healthier diet. Less processed stuff, more organic (oh man, I’m sounding like one of those weird hat people Michael was talking about…). Basically, a diet that is friendlier to my temple-aspiring body.

Anywho, day three begins with not the brightest of spirits on my part and a deep desire to drop-kick all the food and drinks that One Lucky Duck had prepared for me. I am still planning on doing a five-day cleanse at this point. I think, “If I’m going for it, I should do it all the way!” Fool. (Maybe some of you are a bit stronger than I am, but my recommendation would be: if you're not big on juices in your daily life, opt for a shorter cleanse for your first time. Your stomach, your brain, and probably your friends, family, and coworkers will thank you).

I start to crack around lunchtime. I take out my caesar salad. Definitely not happening. I am a grown (growing?) woman (girl?). I need real human food, not food fit for rabbits. At this point, I'm not even hungry, I am just angry. And frustrated. And I hate everyone. (I promise I’m not generally so full of hostility.) I decide three days is enough: “I’m quitting after tonight. Tomorrow morning, I am getting a peanut butter smoothie from Juice Generation and it will be wonderful,” I say, to no one in particular.

That was it. My mood elevated, I knew the end was near. Sure, I didn't exactly follow my cleanse on the final day (I picked at the meals and didn't finish my drinks), but I definitely gave it a fair shot. I held out until 7pm when I ate my final meal, a Brazil Nut-Crusted Almond and Sea Vegetable Croquette Salad with some “chocolate pudding' on the side. Cut to eleven hours later. I am thrilled to announce that I have been reunited with food. Oh, how I’ve missed it. I will never abandon it again.

Photos: [1] The aftermath, [2-3] Michael's Cleanse, [4-6] Emily's Cleanse, [7] Nick's Cleanse, [8-11] Elizabeth's Cleanse