Adventures in Juicing
A few months ago, I watched the film Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead. Like many who watched the film, I was energized to get healthy. It’s no secret that my health is not good. The film made the whole juicing experience seem to be reasonable.
After all, I spend many years experimenting with my diet. I was a vegetarian (lacto-ovo) for about 20 years; vegan and no sugar for a few of those; I’ve fasted; I’ve liquid dieted; my first husband was allergic to everything and I cooked with spelt and other alternative grains long ago; I owned a natural foods coffeehouse and cooked there for a couple of years. That being said, I didn’t think I wanted to juice-fast. I thought I’d just add juice to my daily diet, maybe substitute breakfast for juice. Very reasonable, very doable.
A friend of mine, with two sweet-tempered little girls, told me that her little ones loved beet, celery, and pear juice. It was pink and with a touch of sweetness and they drank it up eagerly and loved it.
So I bought a juicer. I am a total cheapskate and hate gadgets, but I was in. Then I bought beets, celery, and pears. I juiced it all. It smelled and tasted like grass clippings.
I offered it to my daughter, and eagerly awaiting the anticipated joy she would show and the boost in nutrition her diet would soon have.
“What’s that?” she said. “It’s juice,” I said. “I’m not drinking that,” she said. “But your little friends love it,” I said. “No way. I’m not drinking that.” And she ran off, never to discuss it again.
The juicer went into the attic. Maybe I’ll try selling it on ebay.