posted by Sandy Fails 0 comments

I did the Master Cleanse a few years ago and developed a love-hate relationship with it. For me, it works. After ten days (actually, I ecstatically consumed some vegetable soup on evening nine and was stricken by nothing more than one puny guilt pang), I felt cleaner, lighter and healthier. My senses were intensified. The grocery store produce aisle was a festival of smells and colors, and that veggie soup released a symphony of flavors in my mouth, not one of which was lemon. Heaven.

            I love less how I feel during the cleanse. The first three days this time were fine – beyond the torture of all that enticing food out there that was not to be eaten. Crested Butte Publishing & Creative hosted the Chamber After Hours on Thursday night and had it catered by Ryce Restaurant – and the celebrants exclaiming as they bit into fragrant crab rangoons and savory chicken wraps almost brought me to tears.

            The good news: you can drink as much lemonade as you want during the cleanse, and you get more energy and nutrients from it than you’d think. The bad news: I have yet to conjure the same satisfaction from downing a slug of lemon-syrup-water as I get from crunching into a hot, spicy crab rangoon.

            I’m on day four now, and I can feel my body going into detox mode. My tongue is turning white, I sense a faint headache, and in the wee hours of the morning I spent more time in the bathroom than a night janitor. (Did I mention the laxative tea?) But soon I’ll feel energized and refreshed – and a few toxic pounds lighter.

            Cleansing once every few years is plenty for me. My current incentive: in two weeks I’ll be wearing shorts on a friend’s sailboat in San Carlos, Mexico. (When health falters as a motivator, vanity kicks in.)

            There’s also something about the changing of seasons in Crested Butte that prompts renewal. I always groan the first time I don a coat in October; winter’s a long haul here. But I love living in a place with such intense seasons. Nature remakes herself, which invites us to do the same, even if it means occasionally drinking lemonade for a few days while dreaming of crab rangoons.