I've already blathered about how I feel the need to purge in spring. It seems that the sun also brings out the will to expiate for sins of overindulgence; namely, too much alcohol, coffee, food and nonessential clothing items. I'm considering purifying and punishing my weak old self with a fast. Master Cleanse, anyone?
Now, I'm not fool enough to think any related weight loss would be permanent. There is also no proof that such a fast does actually cleanse the body of toxins any more than the trusty liver would, if left unsullied to do its work. But after even The New Yorker sent a reporter to a fasting spa, I began to feel irresistibly drawn to the idea. One tidbit from that story stuck with me: After days of not-eating, said reporter still had a productive colonic. Just how long does crap linger?
So, no food. Talk about clean! Talk about minimalism! Talk about walking gently on the earth! Plus, I dig extremes, and have such exceptionally weak willpower that drastic measures are almost always necessary for achievement.
My friend P. has done the Cleanse twice, taking in nothing but a lemon juice 'n maple syrup concoction for 10 days or so, along with her spouse. She reports exemplary results; skin like a baby, energy, euphoria, the whole bit. But these people are athletes — the triathlon, iron man/woman, butt kickin' kind — and are used to battering themselves. I fasted for three days back in 1995 with a group of colleagues, including my boss. A singularly bad idea, that, some of the effects of fasting being bitchiness and the near-constant need for a bathroom.