My friend Rachel and I, psyched on juicing up a storm with our new juicers, (thanks, Mom!) decide to try a one-day juice fast. We vaguely follow a plan outlined by Dr. Gillian Something, in her book Something Something* from which we took notes in our local bookstore, and which prescribed mostly vegetable juices, and broth as well as the solid food of fruit, raw salad, or quinoa with herbs, if met with attacks of hunger. We started our day with hot water and lemon, and juiced serious amounts of celery, carrots, beets, sprouts, apples, and cucumber before our stomachs growled and we made some quinoa to get through the afternoon. Around 3 p.m. I made the mistake of fantasizing about pizza out loud. We talked—excitedly—about abandoning ship. Then our food guru Meghan joined us. A flurry of chopping got the juicer whirring again for another round. I sat sipping our savory creation, enthusiasm renewed, and hunger temporarily satiated. I felt pure and light and cleaned out. All thoughts of pizza, sweets, and other foods vanished; I was so proud of our commitment and willpower. Meghan, suddenly, had to go. Oh no, so soon? Within five minutes of her departure, the effect of her presence vanished with her, Rachel was on the phone ordering the pizza and I was already making popcorn and sugar-free cookies** at the same time. We ended the night feeling splendidly satisfied with ourselves and our choices.
The next day was Monday, and I was working the night shift. I decided to re-commit to the juice fast for both the day and the night. I made miso soup and a potassium-rich vegetable broth of beets, carrots, potatoes, and turnips. I had quinoa and fruit and both fruit and veggie juice. It was hard to maintain my energy level, but I could see how it was possible, on so much less food than I usually had. It was good to reduce food to energy, the minimum needed for fuel, to see how, at times, less food gave me more energy—though the nighttime was mostly a struggle. I broke my fast on Tuesday morning, Valentine’s Day.
*Details to follow
**Re-named ‘oat clumps’ to avoid disappointment