(Erik M. Lunsford/St. Louis…)
By now you have probably heard of the juicing craze that is taking over the nation. Friends, siblings and co-workers everywhere have likely bombarded you with questions such as, "Do you juice?" "Have you watched that juicing documentary?" "Skip steroids. Why don't you try a natural juice instead?" Because it's happened to me.
After months of resistance, I acquiesced and decided to eliminate kettle chips and other nutritional staples from my diet. I fell victim to the juicing epidemic ... for almost three days! Here is my totally fake diary of the experience.
7 a.m.: I am pumped and excited for this juicing thing to begin! I can't wait to tell everyone about what I'm doing and convert others into juicing.
Noon: I just had my first juice of the day—carrot and spinach. It's so weird eating vegetables on purpose. All my co-workers are asking me why I'm drinking juice. I tell them I'm trying to better myself and get healthier. Clearly, I am better than them.
7 p.m.: Juice No. 2 is pineapple, sweet potato and celery. Yum! It's not exactly the pepperoni pizza my boyfriend is eating next to me. This juice is way better—and who cares if the pizza has this buttery golden crust that looks like it's straight from a commercial. Or if the pepperoni is a little burned at the edges, just the way I love it, and he got extra mozzarella. WHO THE F CARES! I don't.
7:07 p.m.: Would it be bad if I patted the pizza with a napkin and then juiced the napkin?
8:30 a.m.: Made some strange tomato concoction that tastes like V8. I hate it. I also hate everything.
Noon: Everyone thinks I'm being moody this morning, just because I scowl at them and call them idiots. They're just jelly that I'm way healthier than them. I am tempted to teach them all a lesson and unplug the refrigerator.
3 p.m.: The office manager ordered a giant ice cream cake for some fatty in the office. I should quit my job. Clearly, no one here wants me to be happy or succeed.
2 a.m.: Can't go to sleep, so I'm looking at Buca di Beppo' s online menu. I'm imagining consuming everything on their menu. Not even chewing, just swallowing. I know Buca di Beppo isn't exactly gourmet, but all I want to do is swim in a pool of their spaghetti and their half-pound meatballs. Forever.
7 a.m.: I'm going to say it. I'm not that fat, I was never sick, and yet, it's only when I'm juicing that I feel like I'm dying. Don't do it, guys. I don't know how much longer I'm going to last ...
11 a.m.: Treating myself to some carrot and orange juice. I have nothing else to say.
11:22 a.m.: I have been studying the Buca di Beppo menu at work all morning. Productivity low. Energy high.
Noon: I'm going to go out for a little. I swear I'm not going to order fettuccine alfredo with chicken and two meatballs. I swear.
7 p.m.: Burp. ... That was a bad idea. I'm not going to say what was a bad idea. But let's just say whatever I did between noon and 3 p.m. was a terrible idea.
Jen Kim is a RedEye special contributor.
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