“Mark, your father is outside barbecuing a flank steak and I’m just about done with the mashed potatoes. Would you come downstairs?”
I say nothing. Garlic, coriander and rosemary waft upstairs as if bee-lining for my nostrils. I hear my mother say, “Ouch! That’s hot,” as she pulls garlic bread out of the oven.
“Steak’s done!” exclaims my father proudly, closing the sliding-glass door behind him.
“Mark, will you please come downstairs? We’re about to eat.”
I stay silent. Has she forgotten? Is she doing this to torture me?
I hear footsteps making their way towards the bottom of the stairs. The footsteps start up the stairs.
“Mark, your father has just cooked a delicious flank steak and we’ve got mashed potatoes and garlic bread and sal — oh wait, you’re doing that stupid cleanse. Well, have fun with your lemonade!”
She giggles as she scampers down the stairs. “I got him good,” she says to my dad.
“Ha ha! What a douche bag!”
“Yeah. Let’s eat. I’m starving!”
End Scene.
This has become my life. I’m sick of it. I’m done. The Master Cleanse is stupid. It’s not healthy. Not consuming protein is not healthy.
I’ve made it past the hard part—the “three days”—and I’m not stoked. I’m not “energetic”; I don’t feel like I’m eighteen again: I feel hungry as shit and irritable. I want to stick my head into the refrigerator and bite into a block of cheese, or go to Safeway and steal a bucket of General Tso’s. I want to get in the drive-through line at McDonald’s and spend five minutes ordering two of everything on the menu. I want to go to Thai Tom’s and guzzle peanut sauce. I want to inhale—literally breathe in—a bag of Doritos. I want food!
Which is why, tomorrow, at 11:00am PST, I will eat. Or more accurately: I will eat soup. And it will be wonderful. And please don’t call me a quitter, because I am not quitting. I have conquered the three most difficult days in the Master Cleanse program—have eaten no solid foods for three days—and now, having proven my worth, will resume my normal habits in the name of sanity and joie de vivre.
“And on the fourth day he said, ‘Let there be Chipotle.’”
-Wetzler
Tomorrow on Where’s Wetzler?:
Master Cleanse Day 4 Video Update and Final Recap
plus
Boots Gone Wild!: Naked Photos of Chauncey
This entry was written by , posted on December 11, 2008 at 1:06 am, filed under Ravenna, master cleanse, the boot and tagged bar rafaeli, beyonce, gisele, master cleanse, tony tave, wetzler. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.