Are You What You Eat?

I am into day seventeen of my twenty-four day cleanse. Well, that's not entirely true. It's been seventeen days since the cleanse package arrived, but I'm not exactly "into" day seventeen. For seventeen days, I have woken up to a stack of boxes containing mysteriously named supplements that, when taken in some scientifically determined amount, sequence, and combination, promise to greatly enhance my sense of well-being. I admit I have been a bit haphazard about sticking to the protocol.

Not surprisingly, the improvements have been slow to reveal themselves. Okay, well that's not entirely true either. Unless you consider only gaining three pounds and feeling like crap only some of the time to be an improvement, there has been little in the way of noticeable enhancement. For the first few days, I was religious about the not as vile as I thought it would be fruity energy drink and the much more hideous than I could have imagined fiber concoction and the pills that are so big they must contain lots of good stuff although for the life of me I couldn't tell you what. By day five, though, I was slipping off the wagon. (The energy drink also claims to help with mental focus, but by day seven, when I completely forgot I was even attempting the cleanse, I was dubious.)

Today, as I have for most of the past seventeen, I woke up with every intention of doing it right. Again, not entirely true. I had every intention of starting my day off with a heavy dose of coffee and nonprescription pain killers. The cleanse will wait; there's no way I can even consider all that good living and quasi-deprivation until my head stops pounding and my joints loosen up.

I actually thought a twenty-four day challenge would be fun. I had forgotten that January in Chicago is challenging enough, and I suppose I had forgotten that there's a good reason I avoid diets and all sorts of self-improvement regimens like the plague. I am capable of obeying basic rules but woefully incompetent when it comes to following long lists of instructions. It's why I don't cook. Well, that's not entirely true. I just prefer food as a finished product.

There are indeed positives buried within this somewhat misguided cleanse episode, other than capping the weight gain at three pounds. I have learned a lot about myself, and I thrive on self discovery. For starters, the only thing I find more tedious than hearing about somebody else's cleanse is trying to do one myself. When I am hungry I want to sink my teeth into something delicious, not choke down a tasteless capsule that somehow manages to have an aftertaste. Or a drink that bears an uncanny resemblance to things you don't really want to think about when you're eating. At least I have given up diet soda. Having blown my wad on the cleanse, I am quenching my thirst with tap water and attempting to offset the cost of the cleanse by eliminating my daily trip through the McDonald's drive-thru for the perfect diet coke. I am not totally incapable of sacrifice.

And, at the end of the day, I still think a good day is one of accomplishment or good effort or pleasant conversation or a random good deed, and tends to involve little or no thought of dietary supplements. The Advil and coffee are taking effect, and day seventeen is off to a good start.