The 24 Hour Detox
Like any foreigner trying to act like a typical Aussie, I spent my two week spring break frolicking down the coast of Queensland: scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef, clubbing in Mission Beach, exploring the Whitsunday Islands, camping on Fraser Island, and touring around Brisbane, all while meeting fellow backpackers at various hostels and consuming more pizza/beer than I care to acknowledge. It was a fabulous and life-changing experience that unfortunately had to end with a 17 hour Greyhound ride from Brisbane to Sydney in order for me to make it to this class on time.
Upon reuniting with our flatmates and apartment complex friends, my travel partner, B, and I realized that, along with our blonder hair and tanner complexion, we had also packed on a kilo or two (of course, we were too nice to point it out to each other, but the evidence was staring us right in our faces.) Immediately, a diet-and-exercise regime was planned, but first, we decided to detoxify our systems with a liquid solution B’s mom had tried: a solution consisting of fresh squeezed lemons (to cleanse), water, five spoonfuls of pure Canadian maple syrup, and a dash of cayenne pepper (to speed your metabolism, promote circulation, and flush toxins out more quickly.) Apparently Beyonce swears by it: the bootylicious pop singer said she lost 20 pounds (what’s that, 10 kilos?) after 14 days and countless glasses of the aptly named Lemon Drink.
Being that we’re uni students and didn’t touch a single piece of homework over the break, we, along with my flatmate A, decided to shorten the time period to just 48 hours: from Monday night at midnight to midnight on Wednesday. If we survived, we’d hit up Pancakes on the Rocks…and pretty much undo our two days of lemony starvation. After slurping down my wheat-spaghetti-and-steamed-vegetable-pesto, the last solid food I was going to eat until Thursday morning, I stuck my pitcher of Lemon Drink in the fridge and went to bed, dreaming of the hot body I was about to acquire as if by magic.
Tuesday, 9 a.m.: I poured myself a nice big bottle full of Lemon Drink to take to class, in addition to a separate bottle of pure water so I could at least attempt to salvage some of the enamel on my teeth. No hunger pains - an impressive beginning for a breakfast-a-holic like myself.
11:30 a.m.: In class, on break, reading a review about the shitty American remake of Australia’s Kath & Kim on the San Francisco Chronicle’s website. Normally this would be the time when I’d bust out my peanut butter crackers or run down to the cafe for a skim latte, but today I stay put. Still no hunger pains.
1:00 p.m.: Class ends. An image of a turkey sandwich floats before my eyes, but I block it out and take a tasty swig of my Lemon Drink as I saunter out of the room. Turkey smirky, by now I’m quite enjoying my summer beverage.
2:30 p.m.: Out in the courtyard of my apartment complex, listening to an 80s mix on my iPod and writing postcards in the sunshine. A comes to join me, but she’s already caved and is eating an apple, so she’s out. Whatever, she has a major assignment to finish. I focus intently on fitting every detail about the reef’s coral onto Grandma’s postcard and ignore the sound of chomping.
2:35 p.m.: Our friend N emerges from his apartment with a plate of delicious looking Thai food. I beg him not to join us, but A invites him to sit down. He sits across from me and devours his plate of curry goodness while I shade my eyes with a Brisbane postcard, gulping the Lemon Drink in pure frustration.
4:30 p.m.: Watching Scrubs with N on the couch. I text B and tell her I’m hungry and going to eat, but she persuades me to stick with my lemony anorexia. I turn my attention back to the screen and watch JD as he attempts to intimidate his hospital residents.
5:45 p.m.: Fuck this, I yell at A in the courtyard while she’s leisurely enjoying a cigarette with a friend. She’s already cheated again by eating a bean salad. I feel so unproductive and my empty stomach is starting to induce mood swings. I notice B’s flatmate, M, walk into the courtyard with a bag full of groceries. I glare suspiciously at the stalk of celery poking out of one of the bags, knowing instinctively that M didn’t buy it for herself. I march after her into her apartment and accuse B of trying to cheat, which sends B into a fit of laughter as she tries to convince me that celery doesn’t count as cheating, as it’s mostly water and has negative calories. Whatever, I tell her, no solid foods til after Wednesday. She suggests we try the leek soup diet next time.
6:30 p.m.: I leave B’s flat with the intent of grabbing my half empty pitcher and making more Lemon Drink at her place, but when I arrive home I suddenly feel exhausted. I curl up on my bed for a short nap, just to regain the last bit of strength the sun and my lack of food hasn’t managed to extinguish.
11:55 p.m.: My phone alarm goes off with a blinking reminder to purchase Big Day Out tickets at 12:01 a.m. I text N to ensure him I’m awake and he comes running over so I can put his ticket purchase on my credit card too. Bleary-eyed, I type in the necessary information and wait for a confirmation email to pop up in my inbox.
Wednesday, 12:15 a.m.: Still no confirmation email. A freak out ensues as I email the BDO people and beg for my tickets.
12:17 a.m.: I receive my confirmation email. We’re going to Big Day Out! My excitement is hindered by my lack of energy, even after the six-hour, coma-like sleep.
12:55 a.m.: N leaves. Fuck it, I say to A again. I can’t handle feeling this empty and disgusting.
1:00 a.m.: I finish my box of Rice Krispies in record time before moving on to the last of my museli, then brush the Lemon Drink off my teeth and go to bed. It’s hard to sleep after my 5+ hour nap, but it helps that my stomach isn’t growling.
Kudos to Beyonce, but one day was enough for me. I feel cleansed and detoxified, but I’ll just stick to my cookies/cake/gelato ban for weight loss purposes.
