The Master Cleanse: Day Two

The first half of today was drastically different than the second half. But I'll begin with five years ago:

Saturday, November 5, 2005 – Day Two: I awake at 5:50 am, feeling good. I decide to lower the amount of maple syrup in my lemonade -- currently a loathefully sweet iced tea with a peppery aftertaste -- and drink more of it. Also I will ensure it is ice cold. The book recommends using medium-hot water, or cold if you prefer. I discovered quickly the wretchedness of medium-hot maple syrup-sweetened lemonade.

In the evening I go to see Capote, lemonade in tow. The smell of buttery popcorn is luxurious, but I don't feel the need to actually eat it.

I feel like when I look at pictures of food, or when I smell it, I have a better appreciation for what it would taste like. I feel like I would savour it more now. I still don't feel the need to eat really, but I've started making a list of delicious things I'd like to eat when this is done.

• chicken stew
• duck sandwich
• kielbasa

If nothing else, this diet seems to be good for figuring out what you really like to eat. Clearly I'm not and never will be a vegetarian.


I made the switch to more economical water: $2.99 for 9.5 litres. Maple syrup goes by at an alarming rate -- it looks like it will be used up by the end of tomorrow. That's almost $10 of maple syrup per day! Approximately what I would spend eating lunch at Starbucks, which I do depressingly too often, so I guess that's fine.

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All of the above was written around lunch time.

Around 2pm my stomach seemed to become a bottomless pit. I basically had to feed it lemonade ALL THE TIME. Constant 'eating'. I thought, maybe this is what it feels like to be a bird. No wonder so many wild animals are jerks.

Eventually I found myself unable to keep up with the demands of my stomach. The lemonade was SO SWEET, it was not very fun to have to drink it every five minutes. On the bus ride home, my sense of smell was working at its peak, taking in a barrage of after-work sweat and smoke and bad breath, and finally when someone got on wearing some kind of ridiculously pungent patchouliesque cologne, a wave of nausea washed over me.

I went home and passed out, waking later to regurgitate as much lemonade as my body would allow, until there was nothing left to throw up. I ate a couple bites of an apple and a nibble of bread, and then Jay brought me some saltine crackers. Saltines have never tasted so delicious.

I started to feel better and went on to eat a mini pizza, a piece of toast with peanut butter and some lobster pâté with crackers. I've never been so happy to be eating food, and I don't care that I fell off the cleanse wagon. I think throwing up gives you a license to quit anything.