Cloying and not at all naked, the blue machine got me again. The first time I OD’d on a Naked Juice Smoothie was in the Bahamas where I’d been living on a Steve’s Paleo Kit Diet. I would eat one MRE and one Original each day, and nothing else. Until two days before I was scheduled to leave, when I visited the grocery store and found a 32 oz bottom of Green Machine and a 32 oz bottle of Blue Machine hanging out in the back of the fridge. I bought them in a flash: 100% juice? Apples, bananas, blueberries, blackberries, kiwis, mangos, pineapples? My salted tongue was screaming for something sweet. Before I walked two steps past the register I cracked open a bottle and sucked it down.
All. of. it.
Then repeated my crime with the Blue Machine.
Crime? Crime? Yes! I felt awful. Sick to my fruited stomach. And that feeling began about halfway through the first bottle so I just beat it into myself from the get-go.
I revisited my masochistic ways this morning, gulping down 15.2 oz of Blue Machine from the company cafeteria. My exhaustion lingers and boy I just wanted a pick-me-up. My go-to Bulletproof Coffee was finished and my tired tummy was begging for more. On the walk back to my desk I glanced at the ingredients; shut the front door. Though it says 100% juice in large letters in two conspicuous places, it also contains: maltodextrin, natural flavors (cockroaches anyone?), acetate, niacinamid, d-calcium pantothenate, pyridoxine hydrochloride, and cyanocobalamin. You know, all your fibers and vitamins handy in a bottle.
What births this anger within? No, it is not my susceptibility to fancy marketing ploys, nor is it the fact that I drank 27 blueberries, 3 blackberries, 3 1/4 apples, and 1 banana in less than two minutes; no, not even that I repeated the same mistake three times (ten if you want to talk in equivalencies…goooooooo MCAT!).
What’s annoyed me most is the fact that I have failed to take responsibility for my personal goals. I had a plan: eat a la John Welbourne (sans steroids). Here, he told me that protein sans flesh is okay. Here, he taught me how to become Chuck Norris: the KT version. Here, Tyler Durden stirs my heart.
A week. A whole week. I found John Welbourn a whole week ago. And what have I been doing? I’ve been eating pints of ice cream, begging for a chance to bake, scarfing paleo pizza, and now–juice. Juice which I promptly followed with a Kind bar (chocolate cashew, not even grain free.)
What am I doing to myself?
Reflection yields fruit of the unsweetened variety
- I am exhausted. Why? I don’t know. Hopefully my TMJ specialist will enlighten me ten days from now.
- I’m squirreling programs. 6 WODs a week does not allow for low carb and Lean Gains.
- I’ve stopped trusting the process. After two years of stellar paleo eating, I’ve thrown my “maybe I don’t have the perfect body but hey at least I can function in an undepressed and uncrazy manner” attitude to the wind, replacing it with despair at zero tone, positive belly inches, and insufficient beauty.
Yes, I’ve let myself fall into despondency, and am once again eating my feelings. And my fatigue. Time to reset, remember that no sugar is the best for me, and get back to being a happy person (no matter how sleepy.) (Hopefully in two weeks time I will be a happy and not-sleepy person with an aligned jaw.)
WOD: OHS skill work, 5 rounds 30 OHS #45, 30 v-ups (to do at home tonight)
MCAT: buffers titrations, acids and bases