Like many women, one of my New Year’s resolutions had been to embrace a healthier lifestyle. The stress and frankly overall fuckery of 2017 had led me to eat a lot of junk food while not drinking nearly enough water and it showed. My skin was dull, I looked tired, and despite being slim I had a bit of podge. I was on the hunt for a miracle.
That’s when I discovered a three-day juice cleanse on Pinterest. At first, I’ll admit I was sceptical. I figured my kidneys and liver were doing a great job cleansing my body of toxins like it was their damn job because it was their damn job. I was finally sold on the cleanse however after learning it was recommended not only by Dr. Mercola but by the great Gwyneth Paltrow. Exceptionally talented, fabulously wealthy, and apparently woke as fuck there was no way Paltrow would steer me wrong.
The first day of my juice cleanse was difficult. I was a bit snippy towards those around me and I found myself fantasising about foods I don’t even like. The internet had told me to expect this, so I decided to patiently persevere and ride it out to the promised land where I would be greeted with skin like an angel and the body of a goddess.
The second day was much harder. It was the weekend and my husband insisted that we continue with our family tradition of visiting the park and later hitting up our local biryani joint. I found the outdoors annoying and the laughter of children, including our own, was grating on my last nerve. Next up the Hyderabad House, or as I was referring to it the seventh circle of hell.
Don’t remember much about our trip to the Hyderabadi Biryani place. I sat there miserably nursing my juice when the waiter brought a platter of chicken 65 to our table and that’s when it happened. I entered a state of white hot rage and began attacking the plates of fellow diners like some sort of zombie, except with a hunger for naan and kebabs instead of brains. My husband said it was both horrifying and impressive.
I’m currently out on bond and awaiting sentencing having plead guilty, with the viral surveillance footage plastered all over the internet I really didn’t have any other options. Fingers crossed. On the bright side I should have plenty of time to get in killer shape during yard time.
Lauren Pathak for PF Magazine