Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Day 3: – Tuesday, 12. February


I wake up in better spirits, but with a funny taste in my mouth and a mild headache. I'm also a little cold and my back hurts. So there is some poison in me, after all! I manage a few half-assed sun salutations and get on the Google, where everyone agrees that the 3rd day of not eating is the hardest, because on this day, the body finally switched into self-support mode.

It think it's a really good thing to know that your body, just as you are now, is able to go on by itself for weeks and weeks. A very empowering thought on many levels!

Anyhow, I still have this headache, and as people advise for any kind of problem during the cleanse, have another go with the tiny micro-enema. Surprise: an hour later, I really feel brilliant, except for still being a little cold (but to be fair, it is a really cold day today).

At 1pm, I lie down for the magical detox hot water bottle over the right side of my belly (“to help the liver detox”) and wake up... 3 hours later. So that's that for going into town today. Instead, I go for a walk around Little Venice and yes, feel a little light-headed. On the way back, I stock up on juice at the Sainsburys, where lots of ads ask me “How would you like your pancake?”. Hm, pancake...

When I get back, I tackle a project I've been meaning to accomplish for the last two months: mend some clothes, and above all, figure out if I still really want to wear all that stuff that has been sitting in suitcases for the last two years. Turns out mending doesn't take that long, and yes, it all still fits me and I like it. After all, I cleaned out 90% of my belongings before I first left, and it seems things have not changed all that much since.

As the sun sets, my self-pity grows into a giant monster that tells me “You can stop anytime!”. Trying to study Japanese doesn't help, so I bury myself in a marathon of watching “Tatort”, this time the Zurich edition. But the Swiss are not great at doing crime fiction, and it doesn't help that every single German show I watch seems to have a carnival theme and people are eating lots of sweets.

I then turn to the worst thing you can do: reading food blogs and checking cookbook reviews on Amazon. As a consequence, the voices in my head get so loud that I nibble on a flapjack from my Graze box, which is luckily divided into three parts. After one third, I stop and pity myself and finally fall asleep around 2 am. Not a good day at all.

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