Nov 28 2010


Hey Kids.

Recently Ceviche and I decided to do this juice fast. I don’t know what ancient fruit pie decided to call depriving yourself of solid food a fast because when you’re not eating, time is anything but. I’ve yet to meet one person comment on the “oh too fleeting moments” of starvation… “The days just flew by! Enjoy it why you can!”

No! College is fast. Sluts are fast. Fasting is a slow painful torture.

I’ve been having tummy troubles and wanted to kick start some serious weight loss so, thought I’d Gwyneth it up for a few days with an all liquid diet. Nothing too hard core, but enough to get me going. Ceviche claimed she was up for the challenge too and out of the three levels of juicing we chose to go full throttle with “evacuation” level (yes, I realize now how dumb that sounds). Accepting Ceviche’s camaraderie became an apparent mistake when, on the eve of our fast, I watched her polish off two open bottles of chardonnay from my fridge.

“It’s liquid!” she quipped at me when I gave her a judgy look. “I don’t want your wine to go to waste!” Such a martyr.
“We’re supposed to be prepping. Fruits and vegetables only.”
“Honestly Burrito, I don’t have to tell you what wine is made of. You have a degree.”

Later Cevche would use this same defense on day two of our “evacuation” when I came home to find her lying on the sofa with kale juice in her left hand and pinot grigio in her right. Both were delicately poured into expensive Italian wine glasses (classy touch). She alternated sips of each while engaging in a marathon of Keeping up with the Kardashians on E!

“We’re cleansing our bodies, not our minds,” she pointed out with great confidence. “I like Kris Jenner’s hair cut. Would it look good on me?”

It was at that point that I knew delirium was beginning to set in. I’ve told her repeatedly that a pixie cut would not look good on her unless she lost at least 15 pounds. I tactfully reminded her of this.

“No it wouldn’t, fatty.”
“I AM fasting.”
“Well, in that case. By all means.” I swear to God my life is lush with contrarians. But of them all, my mother takes the cake.
“I don’t think I will,” she resolved. “If I cut my hair like that, people would ask me if the chemo was working (quick sip of Kale). It looks cute on her though (long sip of pinot).”

They say when you fast you experience jolts in energy and clarity of mind. Ceviche and I found this to be complete bullshit. Rather, we were so tired and unfocused we walked around like dyslexic zombies. I’ve never done hard drugs before, but I imagine this is what it must feel like coming off of them.

The only thing that we could successfully concentrate on for more than five minutes was planning our first meal, like POWs dreaming of life back home. “First thing I’m gonna do is kiss by block of blue cheese and tear open some tortilla chips. I swear I’ll never take them for granted again!” We were beginning to sound like a lost scene from The Shawshank Redemption, so Ceviche and I decided to focus our attention on something else and get out of the house to shop.

Shopping usually does the trick, but regrettably we chose to shop for furniture. Furniture shopping proved to be a nearly impossible task of discerning as our fatigued foodless bodies found every chair we sat in the most comfortable chairs we’d ever sat in our whole lives…and that includes a wrought iron bar stool.

When we tried to buy a bench that looked like a left over set piece from Beetlejuice the sales lady cautioned us and suggested we go home and “eat on it.” We nodded at her with a vacant sociopathic stare and drug our sluggish bodies back to the car. Driving home I nearly ran off the road twice. We found this hilarious. Wrong reaction?

The next morning I woke at 5 am to the creepy feeling of cannibalism. Ceviche was staring at me like I was a burger so I tossed on some Uggs and ran our asses to the nearest café. True to the “breaking your fast” instructions we stuffed our faces with raw organic fruits and vegetables….. As soon as we polished a couple plates of those off we had eggs, oatmeal, coffee, and whole-wheat toast….with butter…and jam…and hollandaise.

Suddenly my world came into focus…. And after taking in the joy of being able to see color again I was faced with the reality of our appearance. We were in our pajamas, sans make up, both bra-less. Jesus. A small girl with a Bratz doll was staring at me like I was homeless.

“Oh you think I’m pathetic! Bratz dolls went out like 3 years ago.” I shoved the marooned mint garnish in my mouth and grabbed Ceviche.

“Come on! Lets go weigh ourselves!”

As we speed-walked back to my place to put on some proper clothes, Ceviche chimed in with newly found pep…

“I feel great! These cleanses really work!”
“I know! It went by so fast!”