Day 2 of the cleanse starts out well. I love apples, bananas and grapes, so it feels like quite a treat at first. And then I get home from work.
As I step into the door, the fabulous aroma of garlic bread and spaghetti washes over me. My calm demeanor vanishes.
“OHMYGOSH, I SMELL SPAGHETTI!! I SMELL GARLIC BREAD! YOU MADE SPAGHETTI?!?!?!”
Jon looks at me nervously. “It’s just a frozen meal,” he assures me.
(You know I’ve gone crazy when a 97-cent processed Banquet meal smells like a slice of heaven.)
I make a large effort to calm myself down. And then I burst into tears.
“I just can’t DO this! I’m so BAD at this! Even if I ever manage to get skinny, I won’t be PRETTY skinny! I’ll look even more like a….like a….” *Dissolves into sobs*
Jon, who looks like he’s afraid he’s about to step into a minefield asks, “Like what?”
“Like a FOOTBALL! A hungry, starving, FOOTBALL!”
Jon makes a valiant effort to stifle his laughter and asks what on earth I am talking about. And so, I show him this picture (a failed attempt to take my own LinkedIn photo, in which my more-pronounced-than-ever Leno chin resembles one end of a football and my forehead forms the other.
Jon cracks up and assures me that I do not look like a football. The tears keep rolling. He tries again, “Well, at least you are a beautiful football!”
Sobs mix with slightly manic laughter. The rational part of my brain–what little of it is left–realizes I’m being 110% crazy. The other part is so tired and calorie-deprived, it can’t catch up with reality.
Now that I have calmed down and consumed a bit more food, I can say with clarity that I don’t look like a football.
I look like an Easter egg–and I’m fine with that. It’s a big improvement over a beach ball.
In an effort to hold on to my brain cells, I’m holed out upstairs, which has not yet been permated by the sweet scent of garlic. I’m also counting down the hours to weigh-in: 40, in case you were wondering. 40 hours, 23 minutes. I can do this. I just need to stay away from food and stay near a toilet; this cleanse is called the Fruit Flush and let’s just say the name is accurate.