This morning, I looked at the empty fresh press with sorrow. Just seven days into my supposed “detox” I had gulped down 5 cups of coffee and chased it with a nice plate of eggs and avocado. I felt like I had woken up next piles of hookers and blow (yes, piles of hookers) when I knew I should be in rehab. I was a failure…
OK, not really. This is just my dorky way of telling you that I cut my vegan/caffeine-alcohol-flour-free detox short. I made it about a week but now I’m calling it quits. Surprisingly, it is not because I am suffering. It’s just because I’m not excited about it.
I probably done four or five detoxes like this in the past couple of years with varying degrees of restriction and enthusiasm. The first one actually inspired me to eat dairy/egg/flesh-free* for a full year afterwards, I felt so good. But this time, I am really charged up about my sugar-challenge, but not so much about the detox.
Oddly, this easy quit is almost a victory for me. When it comes to diet, I can be a bit of an extremist. Calmly walking away when it isn’t working anymore is a step towards what I really want to achieve with this sugar cleanse: moderation. So, I am back to eating pretty normally, with the exception of the added sugars. So far, it’s been a piece of cake. (Oh, geez.)
*I am avoiding the word “vegan” here because it is not completely accurate. I wore used leather, ate honey, and didn’t put a whole lot of effort into making my household goods vegan. Vegans who do these kinds of things likely would say that I wasn’t vegan at all.