This week, I decided to turn into a glossy magazine article and try out a 3-day juice diet – I’d seen it on the telly where a bloke did it for 60 days and lost a shedload of weight. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a truck of weight to lose but I am hopelessly addicted to weight loss shows and was curious to see if this one worked. How hard could it be? I think you might already know the answer…
My theory was that I would start out like most of us – a carb-crazed sugar addict – and emerge the other side after three days as a sparkling beacon of juicy health. My skin would shine, my teeth would gleam and people would stop me in the street and ask me what was my secret, upon which I’d go all coy and wave my hands a bit, before proceeding to bore them to death for 24 minutes, approx.
Day One: This got off to a tricky start because as part of my master plan, I hadn’t actually purchased a juicer. I had a blender you see, so surely they were interchangeable? But as soon as I put my carrots in and watched the sad little blender blades slice them into smaller carrots, then slightly smaller carrots still, I knew that perhaps this plan wouldn’t work. I needed a juicer for my juice diet, the clue was in the name. So off I went to Argos to buy a juicer, then into Asda to stock up on my juicing essentials.
Juicer set up, I began to crank through the food at an alarming rate. Breakfast juice was carrots, oranges & beetroot which was a solid sunrise-coloured start, while mid-morning I dined on 300ml of coconut water, packed with more potassium than a banana but far less comedy value. So far I was doing fine – this was going to be a breeze!
Lunch and dinner were a pick ‘n’ mix of chopped saintliness, the result being 500ml of green sludge. Yum. Our kitchen turned into a laboratory of health, the stove stacked with greens, oranges and lemons bouncing around the kitchen floor. Still, I made it through day one with just extreme crankiness to show and did not kill my partner. Result.
Day Two: This started well enough. I juiced some carrots, apples and ginger, drank my hot water with lemon then followed that up with some coconut water: so far, so hydration central. My stomach felt puzzled by the lack of food – 24 hours it could cope with, but what was going on today? No matter, the sun was shining so I decided on a walk, a headache hovering around the corners of my brain.
By the time I came back from the walk the headache had spread itself across my brain with a picnic blanket, hamper and wine and was having a super time – unlike me. Within an hour I was lying prone on the sofa, in an another hour I’d regurgitated my breakfast and snacks, my head throbbing. With my body going into shutdown, I reset to factory settings: I ate some toast and went to bed.
Day Three: I opened my eyes slowly and waited for pain: a mild hover. I crept downstairs and got on the scales: I was 3lb lighter than when I started. Not bad. I juiced, lemoned, coconuted and had a bowl of cereal – I was taking no chances today. Yes, I suppose it was a bit of a cheat on a juice-only diet, but what can I say? I was making it my own.
Lunch brought another glass of green sludge which I managed to stomach, wondering how someone could do this for 60 days. Every time I passed our biscuit tin I paused; every time I went to switch on my beloved Nespresso machine I pouted. No caffeine for me, just peppermint and green teas. I made it through to dinner and cooked my vegetables on the hob, a bowl of blueberries for dessert. I know, I was meant to juice them, but there’s only so much juice this girl can take.
Verdict: Categorically, I’d say I’m not cut out for juicing. They tell me that it gets better if you stick with it, that within a month I’d be a size zero and glowing from the inside out. I’d say I’d also be a basket case and ready to chew your arm off, right after I’d chewed off my own. I’ll stick to solids, ta.