Happy New Year, I'm on a detox. For the next 21 days, I will consume as many organic fruits and vegetables as I please. I will nosh on seaweed, legumes, oats, and brown rice. I will partake in salt baths, chakra cleansing, skin brushing, yoga, meditation, and massage. I will carry a crystal in my pocket. My mind altering substances will be limited to Watermelon Flower Essence and a peculiar mix of roots and twigs I bought from the herbalist next door to my hairdresser.
My detox book suggests keeping a "detox diary" and assures me that it can be "most illuminating and quite amusing" to look back upon one's feelings during body purification. Readers are encouraged to be open and honest in an effort to rid the mind of emotional baggage, and are assured that, "after all, nobody else will read it." Well. If I'm going to abstain from sugar, salt, meat, dairy, alcohol, wheat, and all the other fun stuff for the next 21 days, somebody is going to hear about it.
And although I might sound slightly whiny about this, I will admit that I'm actually quite thrilled. I look forward to the "fresh, sweet smelling breath" and svelte, cellulite free body my book promises me I will have in a short three weeks. Not that my breath isn't already fresh and sweet.
So it's day one, and I believe I've already learned the most important lesson I will learn in this toxin-less journey. My patient and enduring husband loves me even more than I knew. Because I'm not flying solo on this detox here. And as much as he may think I'm crazy every time I make him take three drops of Watermelon Flower Essence under his tongue and think fertile thoughts, he never says so.