It’s the third and final day of the cleanse. It’s the first thing I think about when I wake up. Actually, that’s a lie. The first thing I think about is how badly I need to pee. Then Ernie hits me in the face with his paw, which is the universal sign for, “Get me a treat, woman!” THEN I remember that today is the last day of the cleanse. Is it too early to start day dreaming about what I am going to eat tomorrow?
I weigh myself and I’m only down .8 from yesterday. Hells.
Phil sits down to eat breakfast with me. He doesn’t usually do that. He usually sits in the living room, watching TV while he eats. He’s munching on that cereal that he showed me yesterday and drinking coffee. Amazing, delicious coffee. I am drinking my shake with a half of a banana in it, feeling jealous, but I pretend I’m fine with it. Consequences of choices made. Suck it up, Buttercup.
I am getting my hair colored today. At least that will cheer me up. First, I decide to bless everyone by taking a shower. Then, I decide I should shave my legs. After all, tomorrow morning will be my final chance to see how much weight was lost cleansing. Shaving should cut down a quarter of an ounce or so. Every little bit helps. Guys, women DO actually think like this, so figure out a way to deal with the craziness.
This reminds me of when I went to Los Angeles for one of the Biggest Loser finales. I did personal training for a woman who’s mother was a finalist on the show and she invited me to come to the finale. Trip to LA? Okay. I got to meet a bunch of the previous winners and had my picture taken with Alison Sweeney. It was fun. What was crazy, though, was to hear the stories about what the contestants were doing in the hours leading up to the final weigh in. From eating next to nothing and wearing a ton of layers to sweat water weight out, it was something else. One guy sat and spit into a cup for the last couple of hours before getting on the scale. CRAY CRAY. I won’t be spitting in a cup in the morning. Maybe I won’t. But I will for sure shave my legs.
Next, I’m off to get my hair colored. I tell Castor about the cleanse and his straight face response is that I can eat 900 calories a day all I want. He’s going to continue to eat 900 calories per meal. I can see how that sounds more appealing. And filling. I don’t have the energy to spare with a debate about how great it is.
As I’m sitting with color on my head, complaining about all the water I’m drinking and how little food I’m eating, I’m scrolling through my news feed and see a story about the humanitarian crisis that’s happening in Iraq. Tens of thousands of people have fled to the hills, because the ISIS is killing whoever the hell they feel like. Families trying to save themselves and their kids, have been without shelter, food and water for a week and now, after a week of no food and no water, they are literally dying of starvation and dehydration. I now, officially feel like an ass. The three liters of water and 900 calories that I’m complaining about eating would quite literally save lives there. I am going to quit complaining immediately. Even mentally.
The rest of the day is spent in dressing rooms, watching my daughters model their back to school finds. We do a quick half-time break so I can run home and eat a salad and the girls go off to find deliciousness elsewhere, so I don’t have to smell their food. When they get back, I mix up a shake and we head back out for round two- shoe shopping. After trying on every boot in DSW, their selections are made and we can go home.
I crawl into bed and my tummy growls. Since childhood, going to be hungry is not something I do. I get really upset if I go to bed hungry, but tonight, I pray for the momma’s and daddy’s in the hills of Iraq that are watching their children starve and I feel nothing but gratitude for laying in bed with a growling stomach. There is food in my fridge, water in my tap and I have a safe place to sleep.