March was not kind to my body, so I thought I’d end it off with a nice little detox. Turns out I hadn’t experienced the last of Maliciously Menacing March 2009.
I capitalised the month with a little back spasm, underscored it with a severely twisted ankle, italicised it with a gashed finger and now I was about to punctuate it with a little spurt, if you would, of stomach trouble.
We enjoyed a week of excess with the Jules’ Thai friends. It involved a lot of food, a lot of beer, more beer and more food. A liquidised diet, was just the ticket for a quick cleanse. No alcohol, no meat, just fluidly goodness.
It all seemed so harmless.
Day 1 was easy. Day 1 of any diet is always easy. Day 2 was fun, I started to enjoy throwing a bunch of stuff in the blender and producing a meal-in-a-glass 2 minutes later. I also played Ultimate on Day 2, it was Tuesday. I think that was my first mistake.
Day 3 I had withdrawal symptoms. Or so I thought. Looking back on it now I was probably just dehydrated. It was painful. Headache, stomach cramps, generally not feeling great. Correctly guessing my body needed something, I decided to make a simple veggie soup, which, of course, I liquidised. Jules (lucky her) had something on, so she missed out on this meal.
Because I incorrectly guessed exactly what my body needed, I made mistake number 2: I added garlic and chilli from my stash in the fridge, both of which were chopped up some time ago and were thus quite mature – no problem for a healthy stomach, but one which had just been flushed of all things vile obviously is susceptible to anything.
On Wednesday night the flood gates opened and wow, if I was looking for a system flush I so found it. Wednesday was novel – woohoo, I thought, toxins begone. Thursday I literally flushed the novelty down the loo – several times. Friday I developed an intense disliking for the loo and, after 6 trips there on Saturday, I became catatonic in an effort to not stir any part of my bowels whatsoever.
Fully aware that it’s quite possible to shit yourself to death, regardless of how much water you drink, I cleverly added adequate amounts of rehydration salts to the tons of water I was drinking. Good move.
On Saturday I reluctantly went to celebrate Earth Hour at the Loft. Upon hearing my sop(ping) story, Pip suggested I try a Guinness to calm my stomach. It’s supposedly recommended for pregnant women’s health, so why not stretch the goodness of Guinness a wee bit further? One RM24 Guinness later I hoped for a miracle.
Call it a placebo, call it inevitable, call it a great urban legend, but following the Guinness my stomach quieted down and my constitution solidified once more.
All I can say is that I’m glad March is over and I’m still in once piece. And that’s all I have to say about that.