Gone Organic

There are two types of dietitians. Those who go organic. And those who roll there eyes at the Whole Foods Freaks. I'm of the latter type. I work with kids. Sick kids. Poor, sick kids. Organic buckwheat may be nice and vitamin-infusing, but, for my kids, Skippy peanut butter and apples are luxury items. I don't get to be picky about farm techniques - unless "cheap" and "available" are techniques. (Prepare for hot-button topic...) Since reliable scientific research has revealed no benefit to "organic" foods or those purchased in "whole food" markets, I roll my eyes in the general direction of the trendy.

But I'm desperate lately.

I've tried yoga, meditation, prayer, poetry, self-help, earth wisdom, astrology, tarot, tea leaves, and even talked to my angels. And it's a no-go. I get the same advice from all: seize the day, release your power, visualize your outcome, pursue your dream. Never surrender.

The same bland message from every source and I got to tell 'em something: it ain't siezed, released, visualized, or pursued. I'm at the same dead end I've been trying to escape for years. Meanwhile, every piece of my past is enjoying fulfillment, ecstasy, and the realization of my dreams while I feel lost in a life I don't wish to own.

I won't take it anymore.

I'll do anything.

Anything.

Anything.

To find a new outcome. Have a new kind of day. Correct the course. Because 2007 had damn well better be my year.

So, I am now following up on every lead from Dr. Phil to Star Trek. Without prejudice, I seek all information on how to have a happier life. If someone told me that dancing naked around Great Aunt Arlene while singing the Wonderwall Mashup would lead to self-fulfillment and longevity, I would plan a trip and buy a videocamera with pre-stamped envelope for FOX TV's Caught On Camera. I don't care how ludicrous, ridiculous, or embarrassing. If it gets me past this funk, I'm giving it the ole college try.

This new attitude led me straight to the Whole Foods Market. I decided to try the Master Cleanse* in order to purge the self-mocking hatred I've discovered sub-consciously lurking behind my verbal conscience. I picked up the maple syrup, cleansing tea, de-ionized salt, and massive water bottle. Then I went on a hunt for 100% pure, organic lemon juice.

*sigh*

You'd think that stuff was controlled by the FDA. I wandered the halls with arms aching from gallons of foul-tasting elements. Honestly - I think you must not have taste buds if you eat this crap all the time. Even the cheese was gross. How do you make cheese gross??!!

I tripped over an employee, who must have been severely stunted from trying to find taste amidst the green grasses his parents claimed to be dinner. "Do you have lemon juice?" I asked.

He pondered. And pondered. And pondered. Then left.

I sighed. Deeply. Another employee walked by. "Do you have lemon juice?" I asked.

"Whoa! Are you doing the Master Cleanse?" he asked in an annoyingly loud voice.

I felt immediately humiliated. Did he have to announce it? What if people saw me? What if they told the rolling eyes group that I'd been spotted in Whole Foods. My entire life of mockery would end! I'd be forced to eat lunch with the Whole Food Weirdos, chomping on dry spinach leaves while discussing the latest low-fat organic walnuts grown hydroponically in upper mid-state Washington! I wished I could hush him, but he was already spouting the supposed benefits of self-induced starvation.

"You need to press your own lemons. Otherwise, it won't work."

No way in hell am I wasting that much time on this? I thought. I smiled gently and repeated my question.

"No. Really. You totally need to squeeze the juice fresh each morning."

Well, now that you said 'totally', I mocked. "Thanks for the input," I said dismissively.

I found the lemon juice and snuck to the far corner, now completely paranoid that the American Dietetic Association had spies in each organic market and would be posting my picture on the Practical Dietitian Sell-Out site.

"Hey! Are you doing the Master Cleanse?!" the checker asked energetically.

My hell! How can this be my first in-time trend? How did I miss iPods and clogs but get the Master Cleanse? What does this say about me?

"You totally have the wrong tea," he added helpfully.

I grimaced. I'd spent 20 minutes choosing a tea. Unless I turn bulimic, there's no way I'm putting senna purposefully in my body. It's practically toxic. So, I had chosen a tea without toxic chemicals meant to dehydrate the body.

"And I think you meant to buy the larger bottle of syrup."

My lips pursed before I forced a smile. "I like the tea and I'll take the half-price syrup. If I make it 12 hours on this thing, it'll be a modern miracle of biblical proportions. Look for the burning bushes."

He laughed. "Okay. I won't mention the lemons."

I grinned back. "Already heard that. Apparently, I've got cheap tickets to the hottest bandwagon in town."

He shrugged and completed my purchase. I shuddered at the thought of video cameras as I left the store and wondered what the next 24 hours would mean to me.

24 hours later, I report: I have become one of them. I don't miss eating. I haven't craved good food or chocolate. I wonder when I became anorexic. I never stopped eating long enough to notice, I suppose.

Ah, hell. Next I'll start discussing the benefits of Rose Hips oil. Please. Someone. Pass me a cupcake.