GOOP-approved cleanse told me that I am toxic
“Time has a way of slowing down on a cleanse,” I keep thinking on Day Five of the weeklong “CLEAN 7” detox, a program designed to “supercharge my body’s natural ability to heal itself.”
I’m surprised I managed to jot that thought down, since, at that point in the cleanse, I was usually too weak and famished to hold a pen.
But, according to “Clean 7: The OneWeek Breakthrough Detox Program,” a book recently released by celebrity health guru Dr. Alejandro Junger, “journaling” is an important part of getting clean. So, I persevered and, that day, also managed to scribble this slightly hackneyed line: “I did the GOOP cleanse so you don’t have to.”
OK, it’s not actually a GOOP cleanse. But Gwyneth Paltrow did blurb this book and, for years, has been very supportive of Junger’s cleanses, which are a mash-up of Ayurvedic medicine, “functional medicine” (alternative, as far as I can tell) and intermittent fasting. Together, the three are supposed to make a super-cleanse that claims to promote mental clarity, equanimity, weight loss, energy surges, deeper sleep and beauty.
THE PRE-CLEANSE
For the record, I agreed to do this before the book was released, so I had no idea what I was getting into.
When I got the book, I realized I was going shopping for a lot of items that I don’t exactly consider pantry staples, such as dulse, MCT oil, tiger nuts, flax meal, coconut nectar, skin brushes and DIY enema kits — to name a few.
In addition to shopping, I had to take a quiz to discover my “toxicity” level. Did I ever have stiff joints, headaches or difficulty concentrating? Did I ever crave sugar, starch or dairy? Did I feel tired?
All of these are telltale signs of being toxic, apparently.
I feel so judged, especially since I just thought everyone felt that way after, say, the age of 30.
Turns out, though, that I’m not tired because I’m old — I’m toxic. As such, I’m supposed to do a three-day “precleanse” and give up caffeine, alcohol, sugar and, from what I can tell, pretty much all of the food that humans eat.
Since I’ve only blocked off seven days for this in my calendar, this is not going to happen. Plus, I’m not an idiot. This is just a trick to get you to do a 10-day cleanse.
What can I eat? Not dairy, eggs, tomatoes, tofu, bananas, pork, beef, honey, wheat, peanut butter, oats or sushi (to name just a few).
As restricted as this list is, though, it’s about to get worse, since I have to take a second test to personalize my cleanse, one that focuses on how long my neck is, how quickly I speak, my faith, my financial habits and the shape of my belly button all, apparently, standard questions in the Ayurvedic “dosha” test to determine my specific body type.
Finally, a diet that factors in the shape of my belly button!
THE CLEANSE
Days One and Two: My meal plan is a liquid breakfast (shake), a small quantity of real food determined for me according to the length of my neck for lunch and a liquid dinner consisting of a shake or soup — not ideal, but manageable. I slept well both nights (eight and nine hours), but still couldn’t get through either day without a nap. It might have been the lack of coffee.
On the third day, my lunch is reduced to a snack. To clarify what a “snack” consists of, there are recipes in the back. For example, one snack was a single taco with two ounces of chicken. Hey, with a lunch like that, who needs dinner? Me, it would seem, according to my journal entry: “Hungry, hangry, cold, confused, foggy and irritable.” And, according to my (admittedly unreliable) scale, I appear to have gained a pound.
Day Four: This is where things get ugly. Same snack lunch, but my liquid dinner is now reduced to a cup of tea. Worse yet, tea is the last “meal” I’ll get ‘til my next shake, which isn’t scheduled ‘til the following day for lunch.
It’s at this point that I realize I’m not so much cleansing as experimenting with something like a starvation diet. On social media, people often suggest that intermittent fasting is pretty much the same as anorexia, something I’m ambivalent about, since I think a lot of fasters (including myself ) eat pretty well, with the exception of skipping breakfast — a controversial topic.
To me, it feels pretty good to postpone my first meal of the day. It does not feel good to have tea for dinner. So I didn’t. Instead, I ate half a grass-fed rib-eye with a side of broccolini.
I’m the kind of person who likes to finish things I start, even if I’ve decided it’s a ridiculous thing, so I tried to resume it and follow it as closely as possible for the next three days. At the end, lots of sleep, no energy and one killer headache. Weight loss? Nope.
POST-CLEANSE
Day Eight: I’m bounding down Bloor Street to do some holiday shopping. I feel great, since I’ve just had an espresso — my first caffeine in seven days. Looks like I’m far more dependent on coffee than I ever realized.
That’s not the only thing I learned. I realized I forget to drink tea, even though I like it. And while I will never drink it instead of eating a meal, it’s a great idea for quelling that intense snack craving I seem to have at exactly 5:12 p.m. every day.
I won’t ever do this again (let alone four times a year, as Junger recommends), but I get why people do cleanses like this. It shakes things up and forces you to examine your daily habits — good and bad. We often don’t have time to really think about it that closely, but the cleanse forces you to take the time and think, obsessively, about what you eat.
You’ve finally got time. In fact, by the time you hit Day Four, it’s slowed down so much it feels like you’ve got nothing but time.