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.
DAY 1
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?
DAY 2
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.
DAY 3
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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