Firstly, I know, I know.
But hear me out. I am a woman who understands a love of food. I basically came out of the womb with a compulsion to binge eat, and my childhood was a whirlwind of double breakfasts and biscuit tin raids, Happy Meals and unhappy PE classes. Forgiving friends and family maintained that I'd grow out of it, but the only thing I actually grew out of was my clothes, and when I got older and realised that bigger wasn't always better, I entered a cycle of desperate restriction and excessive consumption that I've been stuck in ever since.
I'm 24 years in, and spoonfuls of ice cream become still tubfuls, a slice of baguette turns into half. I only learned what those stickers on the share-size bars of chocolates are for about two months ago and I still don't use them. As you can imagine, this has left me just a few lbs (read, a good couple of stone) off of my ideal target weight. Every Monday I promise myself I'll eat healthy and every Friday I find myself face down in a Dominos pizza. It's just how I function, and until recently, I was alright with that.
This year, however, I've somehow become a proper grown up and been invited to several big occasions - birthdays, weddings, engagement parties - the types of occasions where the pictures are printed and put on the mantelpiece forever. As the RSVPs piled up, I realised that nothing puts the fear of god into me like looking at my current face for the rest of my life - you can't detag a photo frame - so I started looking for drastic solutions that would have me looking svelter in three weeks or less. I'd love to tell you I was doing it solely for my health and happiness, but I'd (literally) be a big fat liar. I was doing it to look good in my new dress and feel like a sparkly glamazon rather than an overzealous seal stuffed into a bejewelled condom.
Surgery and soul-selling aside, juicing was the only obvious choice. In the midst of online horror stories of fainting on the tube and being unable to leave the bathroom for days, even I doubted myself, but determined to at least give it a try, I downloaded an exceptionally enthusiastic American handbook ("buts only lead to bigger butts!") and ordered £50 worth of fresh produce, casually avoiding the bemused gaze of the delivery man when he realised I'd purchased 69 apples, 22 limes and a shelfload of their finest pineapples. I got a state of the art juicer and a stack of flasks, and, all consuming love of carbs aside, I was ready.
I'm not going to pretend I breezed through the week with willpower and resolve coming out of my ears. The first day was tough. Physically I wasn't hungry - with 5 juices a day there were honestly no tummy rumblings to speak of - but mentally I craved something biteable, particularly when my flatmate settled on the sofa next to me with a veritable mountain of carbonara. Day two came and went and the urge remained, but for me, it was still brain rather than belly based; although I can't say the same for my boyfriend, who attempted to join me but for the whole week but spent this particular evening consuming an entirely beige burger (seriously, not even a leaf of lettuce).
However, after the first couple of wobbles, I was finally acquainted with my stride. I found myself looking forward the juices as though they were meals, and got into the swing of making them, cleaning the machine - a process ten times more tortuous than drinking the juices themselves - and distracting myself with other projects. To my own great surprise, I was full of energy for chores that are usually bottom of my list (scrubbing the bathroom floor, anyone?!), and it was genuinely amazing how much free time you have room when you're not buying, preparing, eating, and let's be honest, constantly fantasising about food. I was losing 2-3lbs a day, my stomach had handled the extra roughage like a champ, and if I'm honest, I was feeling pretty fucking smug about the whole thing.
The ultimate challenge came at a Friday night dinner party, where I allowed myself three leaves of lettuce and some onion and tomato 'as a treat'. The meal, however, proved less of a problem than the booze.
"Wine is made from grapes and it's a liquid, so it's basically juice, right?" one of my pals reasoned, gripping the bottle triumphantly. "Plus, you haven't eaten for 5 days - imagine how pissed you'd get!"
My smile widened. My resolve weakened. She was right! I'd be slurring my words and missing the last train home before I knew it. With a Friday feeling stronger than a whole box of Crunchies in my heart, I went as far as letting her fill my glass before the inevitable wave of guilt hit. What was the point of all of the initial days of casual misery if I gave up now, when I was actually feeling pretty good? I was on the last 48 hours, the final hurdle - it would have been like climbing most of a mountain and then deciding not to go right to the top. Stoically, I stuck to water, and the next morning, when I woke up another 2lb lighter, I was reluctantly glad I did.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of watermelon and avocado, and then it arrived: final weigh in day. The book I was following advised that this should be your only weigh in day, but I was jumping on the scaled two or three times a day and frankly, this was one of the biggest factors that kept me going, so I don't regret it in the slightest. The numbers popped and there I was, 12lbs down - a crazy loss that would normally take me 3-4 weeks to achieve.
My glory was somewhat reduced when I learned that you cannot - I repeat CANNOT - come straight off a juice cleanse and dive headfirst into a packet of HobNobs and french fries, like a triumphant victory lap of all of the foods you've missed out on for the last week. My body needed to adjust to whole foods in general, let alone greasy takeaways or chocolate coated everything. I spent the next week eating soup, which tasted exceptionally sugary post-purity, and trays of roasted veggies, and only gained 1lb when I'd expected to regain at least half. Gradually I have introduced naughty foods (yes, including the occasional HobNob - Jesus, I'm not made of stone) and of course my weight fluctuates because of this, but I have not, and hopefully will not, gain back everything I've lost, and upon reflection, would happily juice my way back down again pre-wedding/occasion where feeling fat and uncomfortable would detract from my enjoyment.
One of the things that struck me most about the process whilst I was completing it was how utterly fascinated people were by the whole thing. 90% of my conversations this week were about juicing, and even more surprisingly, requests for advice on how others could do it too - and not because I bought the subject up. An idea I thought would be met with scorn and if I'm honest, a vague air of ridicule actually gained me respect in ways I never expected, and whilst initially I was embarrassed by it - after all, confessing that you're trying to lose weight means publicly acknowledging your current weight in the first place - but by the end of the 7 days I'd happily chat through all of the questions with anyone who asked, and now, I'm writing this, so the stigma must be gone.
However, the biggest thing I've learned is how little you can sustain yourself on, and how much unnecessary crap I've been consuming, purely for pleasure and not for health as I'd been telling myself as I tucked into a triple portion of wholemeal pasta for the third time in a week because "anything with the word 'whole' in front of it is healthy!". Obviously juicing is not a long term lifestyle, but it'd given me a much needed boost new appreciation for fresh produce that I probably wouldn't have found otherwise.
If you're thinking of trying juicing, yes, you will have to go without. Yes, you will miss the sensations of crunching and chewing. Yes, you will be a terrible dinner guest and yes, you will have stress dreams about eating hot, buttery toast. But, if you stick with it, you will lose weight and you will feel better. I'm not saying it's a long term solution to weight issues - goodness knows I've still got mine - but feeling healthier and eating loads of fantastically nutritional food, even in the short term, is a wonderful thing to do for your body. Me and plants went from mere acquaintances to BFFs in just 7 days, and as long as they don't pick any fights with my old buddy chocolate biscuit, I think we're all gonna get along just fine.
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