Caution: The following image may disturbing to some readers ;)
So, a couple of weekends ago, the hubs and I were out at dinner on a Friday night, and we ate way too much. Then we got disgusted with ourselves. (That's my belly up there, in all it's glory.) After a quick discussion, we decided to do a 3-day juice cleanse. So went straight to the grocery store to buy fruits and veggies. Then we hit Target and bought a $60 juicer.
All of it.
Oh, we started off great! We got up Saturday morning and pulled out all of our healthy stuff - red and green apples, spinach leaves, kiwi, strawberries, cucumbers, bananas, cantaloupe, pineapple....
We juiced a whole bunch of stuff together and made some breakfast juice.
Mason jars are great, aren't they?! The juice was OK, I suppose. Not great...not terrible, either, though. Tolerable, let's say.
Well, the crap that's left over is just plain gross. It's all the non-juice part of the fruits and veggies.
This was just the spatter on the juicer. I couldn't handle the waste container.
Well, my husband, being the ever-so-intelligent man that he is, decided that the waste parts were still fruits and veggies and shouldn't be wasted. So, he threw all of that nastiness in the blender with some ice and protein powder, and churned it all up into a super thick, super green, and SUPER nasty goo that he made me drink.
Never, EVER, do that. Ever. Seriously.
There's a reason it's called "waste".
Makes me think of this:
So, the final result of that 3-day juice cleanse? I drank juice twice on Saturday, then spent Saturday night, Sunday and Monday in bed, sick as a dog.
Yea. That happened.
Juicing works for some people. I know it does. But not for this chick. I like food.
I turned 34 yesterday. And I have decided that I am perfectly happy with my little belly that I get occasionally. I'm perfectly happy with the soft spots on my thighs and upper arms. I'm even OK with the fact that I had to go up a bra size at Victoria's Secret the other day - for no other reason than the fact that I've gained weight. For the first time in my life, I'm truly happy in my own skin.
Thirty-four looks good on me. ;) Who says aging is a bad thing?