Happy & Healthy
Detox for Dummies
The festival season isn't even halfway through and I've already partied too much. Too often, too much, too long, everything is fun, everything is cozy, that sort of thing. Add to that all the wine-soaked evenings on terraces and the heavy painkillers I've had to take because my neck was completely cramped, and you understand the state my body is in. I feel sluggish, slightly depressed, and even though I still exercise three times a week, it seems like my belly and thighs are getting thicker. I feel like a walking garbage dump. But the worst part is that I'm really disappointed in myself. Why can't I get a better grip on myself? Why don't I just have one glass less, why don't I go home earlier, why does that bar of Tony's always have to be finished? Why does it seem like I have no control over what I do and don't consume?
I decide to start a detox. I've tried juice fasting before, but that was not a success. On the first day, I thought I was dying. On the second day, I wanted to kill someone. On the third day, I finished a bag of chips. That's why I want to approach it less rigorously now, so the chance that I actually stick with it is greater. I come up with a super simple plan where I gradually rid my body of toxins.
None:
Alcohol
Sugar
Saturated fat
Red meat
Bread
Coffee
Limited:
Dairy
Chicken
Fish
Unlimited:
Vegetables
Fruit
Seeds
Nuts
Herbal tea
Nutritional supplements:
‘In the morning:
Milk thistle, turmeric, chlorella, and artichoke (liver cleansing)
’In the evening:
Probiotics and aloe vera (for the ‘elimination’ of toxins)
In the first few days, I don't really notice a difference. Now that the switch has flipped, strangely enough, I have little trouble saying ‘no’ to certain foods. It gives me an enormous sense of control that I can do that. Never knew that about myself. What helps a lot is that I no longer drink alcohol. If I've had a few glasses of wine (never just one), I'm very inclined to also have that dessert, and come on, that cheese platter too. What I do notice is that others find it very unfriendly if you don't drink. And I find that a bit too. Suddenly, the weather is really nice again, we're sailing through the canals, and I'm craving a glass of Chardonnay. But I hold on (and chew on a stick of celery).
Then on day seven, I have the impression that my belly is a bit less bloated. My thighs also seem to have slimmed down. My pants fit a lot less tightly, and I have hope that I will one day reach my target weight again. I now feel incredibly motivated to continue and laugh as I say no to colleague Lilian, who is passing around Tony's Chocolonely Caramel Sea Salt, normally my favorite. Admiring looks all around. I feel super proud.
On day eight, I wake up for the first time in weeks feeling rested. I feel sharp, my memory seems to be functioning better. I can concentrate very well and run up the stairs without getting out of breath. I'm considering staying detoxed for the rest of my life. This is amazing. Why I ever ate and drank all that crap is a mystery to me.
On day ten, things go wrong. One of my besties has invited me to go to the Zwarte Cross. Her boyfriend is the drummer for the Memphis Maniacs, and we get to stay at their hotel and receive backstage passes. I'm determined to stick to my regime and take a large container of nuts and some raw food bars with me just in case. But: the hotel is half an hour's drive from the venue. I forget my container of nuts. All I see are burger stalls and fries. I need beer to cope with all the clogs, sports sunglasses, and hard rock music. And then the worst part: I smoke a cigarette, even though I stopped that a while ago.
Back in Amsterdam, I'm so disappointed in myself that I eat a box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. The next day, I wake up and feel old-fashioned tired again. I'm really bummed.
But then I realize that I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Balance is about sometimes doing something very healthy to counteract the unhealthy. Soon, I'll just start detoxing again. But first, a weekend in Rome.
Written by Marion Pauw
