I tried to talk myself in to sticking it out. I really did. I kept telling myself all the little motivators I mentioned in my last update. I told myself that if all sorts of other people could do it, I damn well could. I told myself that not only were all my friends and family aware I was doing it, but I was broadcasting it on the internet – to quit would mean failure, and everyone would know.

But then I went to the gym. And I’m totally one of those sick people who genuinely enjoys the gym. I love to sweat, use my muscles, feel all strong and healthy and accomplished. And when I found myself sprawled out on the workout mats, head all fuzzy and discombobulated, too tired and pissed off to do a crunch or run on the treadmill, I thought, this is totally moronic. I’m miserable. I don’t care if I’m so loaded with fucking toxins that I mutate in to the Incredible Hulk, this Master Cleanse sh*t has got to stop.

So, I gathered up my stuff, walked out of the gym, walked to the closest cafe, bought a parfait, and f*%king chowed down. And it was AWESOME. Immediately, everything turned around. I was cheerful, happy, energetic, ready to run on the treadmill and hang out with my boyfriend and paint my room and do all the things that seemed utterly insurmountable while I was living off of f*%king syrup and lemon juice.

Believe me, I know it seems absurd that realizing eating is good was a revelation for me. But in theory the Master Cleanse sounded like such a great idea. Clean out your system! Rid yourself of all your ailments! Reset your body! And honestly, I talked to a number of people who did it and gave it rave reviews. But now I know that these people a) are superheroes, or b) have something profoundly wrong with them. Honestly.

Maybe if I had stuck it out for, like, one more day I would have reached the point where I could have ridden it out, but damn. Every day, it just got worse; I only got more pissed off and had less of a will to get out of bed. It wasn’t even like I was craving food, because I wasn’t, really. I was just exhausted and my brain was all messed up. I was obsessed with the Cleanse; it was all I could think about. Attempts at higher-level thinking, like decision-making or, say, processing something I had just read were damn near impossible. It was like I hadn’t slept in days, when really, sleeping was almost all I was doing.

I will say, though, that I’m glad I tried it. It’s something I needed to experience first hand, and if I had never done it, I would still believe all those people saying it’s glorious. Plus, even though I didn’t do it for the full duration, I still did get some of the benefits. Like, I haven’t wanted an energy drink at all, which just proves that my addiction to them is all in my head. And by not eating for a few days I’ve realized that a lot of times when I eat I’m not even hungry; it’s just force of habit. And I’ve learned that, if need be, I can toss back a quart of salt water, which I’m sure will make me some money somewhere down the line. (“No. No WAY you can chug that. I’ll give you ten bucks if you do.”)

Final conclusions about the Master Cleanse? Here’s what I’ve determined. Sure, it cleans out your body, to some degree, because you’re not putting anything in it. I don’t know about flushing out years worth of built up toxins or whatever, but your colon and intestines are probably squeaky clean. However, a similar effect could be achieved by drinking a fiber shake every morning, if you’re that concerned about it. And as someone mentioned in the comments on my first post about the Cleanse, you do have a new appreciation for food when you’re done because you haven’t had any in TEN DAYS.

And all those euphoric feelings and high energy levels that people reported having while on the Cleanse are probably result of being half-starved and running solely on maple syrup. Thinking about it now, I really can’t believe that consuming only that mixture seemed like a good idea. I get carried away sometimes.

So I guess that’s it. Like I said, I’m glad I did it, I learned some things, but the bottom line is, I need food. Period.

And Stanley Burroughs is a f*%king nutjob.

[That delectable photo is courtesy of cookingdonelight.com]

My day started off OK. I woke up in good spirits feeling ready to take on another day without food when I remembered that it was time for my massive morning dosage of salt water. The night before, I had premixed my oral enema and left it next to my bed in the hopes that I would then drink it immediately when I awoke and I would be so out of it that I wouldn’t fully realize what I was doing. And it worked. At least, a third of the way through it, it worked.

After that I was left to choke down the rest, and though it proved to be more effective than yesterday, I came to the conclusion that a belly full of salt water is no way to kick things off. Tomorrow I’ll be entrusting my a.m. colon purge to Chocolate Smooth Moves; because I’m already struggling to find reasons to wake up in the morning without that staring me in the face.

So, after that I got dressed and left my house for a day of work in Brooklyn, armed with 5 servings worth of the lemonade. I got to the studio where I work and took a seat, pounded a lemonade, and started on my usual tasks. Then someone dropped something and I nearly fell out of my chair reaching for it. Then it happened again. Then I spent about five minutes staring at the materials before me, trying to remember what exactly I was supposed to be doing. Then I stood up to walk to the bathroom and was struck by how limp I felt. By 2 p.m. I had finished all of my lemonade and I knew there was no way I’d make it back to my apartment if I stayed until the end of the day, so I ducked out early in an attempt to avoid going into hypoglycemic shock on the train.

By the time I got home, I was starving and very, very irritable. I drank two glasses of lemonade mixed with some digestive supplements I picked up from Whole Foods on the way home (which, I learned from some research online, are a highly recommended addition to the Cleanse) and sat on the couch, trying to rally my energy to make it to the gym.

Eventually I forced myself into my gym clothes and out the door. On the walk to the gym I considered calling people back who had called me during the day, but I realized that I had no desire to make friendly chit chat with anyone. I got to the gym and managed to churn out my entire usual workout, and felt surprisingly chipper when I was done. Endorphins are amazing.

I walked into my apartment to find my roommate and his girlfriend eating homemade burritos and drinking beer. He looked up guiltily and apologized for the food being everywhere, to which I replied, “Dude, don’t worry about it. Just because I’m not eating doesn’t mean no one else can. It’s my choice.”

Which, I guess is the whole point, and the most irritating part of this little endeavor. I could quit, literally, any time. I could have dug into the rice and black beans and veggies on the stove and it would have been over, plain and simple. And I wouldn’t die, and the world wouldn’t end, I would have just given up on a rather unscientific diet developed by a borderline crack-pot with mediocre-at-best writing skills. But for some reason, I keep trying to convince myself to persevere.

Just wait until the first few days are over, then see. Just wait until you run out of syrup and then you can think about stopping. Just aim for a week; sevens days are certainly better than nothing. Even though the Master Cleanse is interfering with my social life and my work and my immediate happiness, I keep holding on, though I can’t pinpoint why. Is it the genuine desire to rid my body of the toxins Stanley Burroughs tells me are lurking in it? Is it the sense of competition – that if others can do it I certainly can? Is it to experience how my body feels after fasting 10 days? Is it to renew my sense of taste and my body’s response to food?

I suppose it’s a mish-mash of all of the above. I just wonder if it’s enough to keep me going until next Friday.

Immediately after guzzling the truly foul concoction, I supposedly had an hour in which I would be pooping my brains out. As I had developed a stomach ache and was kind of hating life, I opted to spend this hour taking a nap, during which I had a dream that I was eating a Subway Veggie Sub, only to realize halfway through that I was supposed to be Master Cleansing and got really pissed at myself. I woke up starving and made myself a lemonade, then promptly fell back asleep. I woke up at 12:15 in the afternoon without having pooped at all, nor having any need to.

Well, at least I drank all that salt water.

The rest of my day was pretty much spent drinking the lemonade and napping or lounging about because I was totally exhausted. The only time I left the house was to go to the gym where I did my normal workout, but took half an hour longer than usual to do it because of all the breathers I had to take. Later I attempted to leave the house to go to a viewing of a film my roommate had worked on, but felt so beat I decided it was a pointless endeavor and watched a while lot of Comedy Central instead.

Throughout the day, my feelings about the Master Cleanse fluctuated wildly. One moment I was thinking that it was insane and there was no way it could possibly be good for me, then I’d remember all the rave reviews I had heard about it from others, then I’d think that food is awesome and not eating is not and I was totally over it, then I’d tell myself to take it one step at a time and I was feeling fine at the moment, wasn’t I? And really, when I thought about it, that was the truth; while I was tired and had moments of extreme hunger (namely while on the treadmill), and wasn’t exactly Miss Social Suzy Sunshine, I didn’t feel all that bad. I was surviving just fine.

Burroughs and the people I talked to who actually did it all report that the first few days of the Cleanse are the worst. Burroughs attributes this to all the toxins being loosened and floating around your body, where as I’m more inclined to think that it’s because you’re used to eating food and when you’re Master Cleansing you’re, uh, not doing that. But I DO have a sore throat…perhaps triggered by evil body-harming toxins that were previously lying dormant in my lymph nodes? Or merely a result of drinking copious amounts of lemon juice and cayenne pepper? Tough call.

For now, I’ve made a deal with myself that I have to tough out at least the first four days, and then see how I’m feeling. Baby steps, yo.

I just hope I poop soon.