The Perils of Eating Clean

Several weeks ago, I subjected myself to the nightmare known as a Digestive Cleanse. I have since discovered that it is the gift that keeps on giving.

When I finally took my curtain call on Day 5 of the detox drama, I felt like a million bucks, not to mention seemed far less squooshy. I had kicked -- yet again -- my heroine-like addiction to Starbucks Decaf Mochas with Light Whip and removed all traces of chocolate from my system. Fruits and veggies were my long-lost friends who I welcomed back into my life, and my psychotic need/desire for starches had blessedly subsided. Several days after the detox, I continued to eat "clean": no processed foods, no refined sugar, no naughty carbs, and tons of water. Moreover, I was complementing my stellar consumption habits with major doses of fun movement, i.e. hooping, bike riding, and crazysex with the hubster. (FULL DISCLOSURE: My new-found fixation on diet had less to do with health and more to do with the fact that my publicist is now actively working on getting TV appearances for me. Ugh. I've gotten the glass of cold water thrown in my face, reminding me that NOW is officially the answer to "I'll do it when...")

Contrary to the dozens of times I have dieted, deprived myself, and got depressed, I was now eating healthy and moving my body JOYFULLY. Can you imagine? I wasn't even missing my Decaf Mochas, scones, or sausage! My body was feeling a kajillion times better on the inside, and it was slowly, ever-so-slowly, beautifying on the outside. The obnoxious backfat roll I have been sporting for several weeks has decreased in size. Clothes that I hadn't been able to squeeeeeeeeze into now fit comfortably. Even better, my face has been free and clear of any pimple-nasties.

That was until we decided to have Haagen-Daaz.

Sometimes eating steamed vegetables and quinoa just doesn't cut it for the members of the Rose abode. As a special treat, my hubby Michael, daughter Emma, and I decided to get an ice cream cone after consuming our uber-nutritious meal. I savored every last bit of the delectable ditty, (single scoop of Chocolate Peanut Butter on a sugar cone!!) licking it with gusto like a 5-time AVN Award-winner. All was right with the world.

Until the next morning.

My face erupted like Mount Vesuvius. Pimples, pimples, everywhere. It was clear that major blemish surgery was required: hot washcloths, deep cleanser, "manual extractions", toner treatment, and cold washcloth for post-surgerical healing. Over and over and over again. Damn you, Haagen-Daaz! A thirty-nine year-old woman should not have to endure this.

It was then that I realized the fortunate/unfortunate perils of eating clean. Once I get my body clean, it wants to STAY that way. If I decide to roll around in the chocolate peanut butter for a while, my body will make itself known that it is unhappy. This time it was facial eruptions; next time, it may be a God-awful case of constipation or night sweats. My body is now having its way with me, exacting commensurate damage to the toxins I take in. It's new mantra is "You play? You pay."

I guess I'm grateful for my Haagen-Daaz imbroglio. It reminded me to make good choices when it comes to food. I feel so much healthier, more vibrant, and plain ol' prettier when I eat clean, and for the occasional times I want to take a dip -- or double-dip -- into the Dark Side, I better think twice about the choice before I make it. (Especially if I'm gonna be on TV in the near future. As if being videotaped won't be terrifying enough, I don't really want to have to worry about the interviewer calling me Theresa "Pizza Face" Rose.)

Why can't I be one of those freakish chicks that can eat anything she wants and never break out or gain weight? Do they really exist?

Please, Dear Lord, tell me they don't.

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For your consideration and/or comment:

What is your favorite "naughty" food?

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