By: Talyn Terzian-Gilmour
What have you done in the name of vanity? How much has it cost you? Has it been sustainable…or like everything touched by time, fleeting? The price of vanity is steep, its currency is an emotional one, and I’ve paid and paid and paid…and still continue to pay! Will I never learn?
My most recent attempt at “bettering myself” started in anticipation of a trip to Paradise and after I realized that I had quietly put on a few (ok, several) extra pounds thanks to my winter hibernation. While feeling a bit down that I hadn’t been able to get bikini-body-ready for my trip, I was quite satisfied that at least I was going to be somewhat comfortable in my track pants on the flight over. Only, I decided I looked too scruffy so vanity struck and I chose a different pair of pants which essentially cut what little blood circulation I had above my waist to virtually nothing, and left me freezing cold the entire 15 hours of my trip.
Upon arrival, I forgot about my “extra baggage” and made sure to take in the beautiful sunshine and indulge in every kind of coconut and sugary dessert I could find. I staged a strike against my vanity – instead, I focused on my indulgences and gave into every, last decadent desire. Which meant that upon my return, my already too-tight pants had become even tighter.
As an aside, similar to my vanity quest, not fitting into pants at the end of a trip seems to be a recurring theme (nightmare) for me. The first time I ever went to Hawaii was for my honeymoon. Then, I took all of my cues from Mr. Niceguy who’d travelled there once before, and only packed one pair of pants. Like most, the stress of the wedding meant that I had dropped well below my normal weight. After two weeks of lounging on the beach, my body (more than) bounced back and when it came time to go home, I could not zip up my one and only pair of pants and with tears stinging the corners of my eyes, I prayed that airport security would not ask me to lift my shirt to check if I might set off any alarms…
As it happens, following my Spring Break Mania trip, I fell into the vanity trap once again…
While visiting a friend, I also saw her husband when he walked into the room with a definite glow. I was told that he had just completed a five-day, juice detox that he ordered off the internet which left him lighter and feeling great! The writing should have been on the wall…but vanity will cloud this girl’s judgement each and every time.
You know I tried it. My juices arrived and on day 1 of my five-day detox I started off my day with a green juice that had a cute, catchy, empowering name only it tasted positively foreign. By the afternoon, I really started to miss solid food but my friend boosted my morale and reminded me of my genetic resilience thanks to my Armenian heritage and I powered through a juice that’s as black as ink thanks to its two main ingredients: maple syrup and charcoal…CHARCOAL! This stuff didn’t taste right and I’m quite sure no human is supposed to have this concoction…how would I get through FOUR AND A HALF MORE DAYS OF THIS STUFF?!
Within a couple of hours, I was no longer thinking OR seeing clearly. While these juices were ridding my body of toxins, they were also wreaking havoc on my eyesight and my head! I could barely read – it was as if my eyes were permanently crossed and had coke bottle bottoms taped onto them. And, OH MY HEAD…I felt like my brain was going to break open and ooze out of my forehead onto my keyboard at work.
I really don’t know how I made it home after that blank ink juice. Somehow, I managed to pick up my kids and get them home, do homework, feed them dinner and guzzle down the next 300 ml of lime green juice packed with everything you might find in a meadow or living on some ocean floor.
My boys were witnessing their mother brave through a juice detox program with the same voracity as a tiger chasing its prey…only, the grimace on my face and the fact that I was pinching my nose and trying to suck this horrible green goo through a straw led the 9 year old to shout, “Come on mommy! Just chug it!” And ‘chug it’ I tried…
Well, it was just too much. Too much for my head, too much for my eyes and too much for my stomach! Within minutes my stomach had ballooned out to look like I was five months pregnant. Minutes later, I felt weak, like I could no longer stand. I excused myself, using every last ounce of strength to scream, “I’ll be right back!” and “No one come upstairs!!” and within seconds was hurling a microbiome of green goodness.
Sadly, this process went on for the better part of an hour and ended with me passed out, in bed, at 7:30pm, only to wake sometime past midnight and do a quick check that all was still ok, doors were locked and children were tucked safely into bed…because on top of it all, it was Mr. Niceguy’s night away.
When I investigated as to why this cleanse had been so disagreeable, I was told, “well, it must be you” and “this rarely ever happens!” The operative word here is rarely…
Well universe, I hear you loud and clear. I will recover and I’m fine just the way I am. Besides, these 10 lbs look good on me…and once the weather warms up, they’ll simply melt away. Or maybe I can try that new…
