Why I’ll Never ‘Cleanse’ My Body Again

I’ve been conscious of my body for as long as I can remember—its size, its appearance, its strength. It’s hard to ignore when society has drilled it into my head that as a woman, my worth is often tied to how I look. The ideal body is supposed to be slim yet curvy, toned without being bulky, and above all, it must be thin. But now, it feels like simply being thin isn’t enough. You’ve got to fit into those size 00 jeans, or your self-worth seems to plummet. You’re expected to meditate on your chakras while practicing yoga next to your compost bin, all in the name of self-love.

Marketers have definitely caught on to our skewed body images. They understand that while the ultimate goal remains the same—losing weight—the approaches have taken a more eco-friendly twist. So, despite the fact that I turn into a grumpy troll when I’m hungry, I decided to try a juice cleanse last month. After all, “cleanse” sounds so promising! This couldn’t possibly be as bad as the old grapefruit or cabbage soup diets, right? This cleanse would purify me, washing away all the “toxins” from my supposedly dirty lifestyle. Of course, I splurged on the deluxe package, complete with vitamins and veggie supplements. I mean, I deserve the best!

What could possibly go wrong? Let me tell you.

Cleansing Day 1

I wake up thrilled at the thought of being smaller and cleaner! I whip up my “breakfast” smoothie of cucumber, kale, apple, lettuce, and spinach. After one sip, I immediately spit it out and start gagging. Who knew something labeled as “clean” could taste so awful? After some deep breaths and pep talks, I pinch my nose and gulp it down. I feel skinnier already.

Mid-morning brings a juice made from apple and pineapple, followed by a surprisingly decent lemonade spiced with cayenne pepper. As the day rolls on, I blend my dinner concoction of carrots, apples, ginger, lemon juice, and beets. It’s a battle of more affirmations, more gulping, and more gagging.

As a delightful nightcap, I prepare cashew “milk.” After soaking raw cashews and blending them with water, agave nectar, cinnamon, and vanilla, I’m left with a watery sludge that tastes like cashew backwash. What a fantastic start!

I crawl into bed early, eager for Day 1 to end.

Cleansing Day 2

It’s basically a repeat of Day 1, but now I have a headache and feel utterly drained. I cling to the hope that I’m ridding myself of negativity and, of course, losing weight.

Cleansing Day 3

After a restless night, I wake up determined to break free from the societal pressures of beauty. I resolve to quit this cleanse for the sake of all women. But then I step on the scale and see progress, so I decide to stick it out a little longer.

Cleansing Day 4

The roof of my mouth burns from cayenne pepper, and I receive a text from my boyfriend, expressing concern over my distant demeanor. I’m not distant! I’m starving! How could he expect intimacy when I’m deprived of food? I manage to apologize and promise to work on it.

Cleansing Day 5

In an effort to connect, my boyfriend attempts to touch me, but I shoot him a glare that says, “Back off!”—because I might just devour him whole.

Cleansing Day 6

I wake up to find I’ve gained a pound. That’s it—I’m done. I spend the rest of the day munching on everything in sight. I feel like a failure, ready to lash out at anyone nearby.

Cleansing Day 7

Back to my normal eating habits, I find myself researching other quick-fix weight loss solutions. I wish I could shake off the ingrained belief that being skinny equals being worthy. It’s tough to rewire such a deep-seated idea, but I know I need to start somewhere.

The truth is, regardless of the terms like clean or detox, this juice cleanse was just another form of starvation disguised as health. I wasn’t seeking wellness; I was chasing thinness. Acknowledging this fact is the first step toward change, so here I am.

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In summary, I’ve realized that the obsession with cleansing and quick fixes is ultimately unfulfilling. True wellness starts with self-acceptance and understanding that I deserve to nourish my body, not starve it.