The Cleansing: Day Two (2)

I've survived another 24 hours, and feel like I'm just beginning to get the hang of this. I slept better last night, although waking up and removing myself from the bed was about as difficult as usual. My BMs came a lot less frequently yesterday afternoon and evening, although I'm still afraid to fart since I fear the unpredictable wrath of the liquid I'm carrying inside of me. That's a bad thing, too, because this stuff is making me really gassy. Nine times out of ten, I'll feel a powerful force that urges me to take a seat aboard the porcelain throne, take a seat in the bathroom, and proceed to cut a series of weak, dry, emotionless blasts of wind. Unfulfilled, I'll realize the experience is over and await my next such adventure. It's that ten percent chance of pure liquid discharge, however, that keeps me hurrying back with fear in my eyes. I've also been pissing about four or five times more than usual every day, which is something I really should've anticipated, but for some reason overlooked.

After a long session in the bathroom this morning, my stomach was doing cartwheels. I felt extremely queasy, didn't feel comfortable with the half-hour drive to work, and used one of my sick days to enjoy one final day of rest before returning to the full daily grind. I'm glad I did, too. For most of the morning I was miserable, but around noon I suddenly felt at ease and pleasant. I feel lighter than usual, and upon weighing myself I realized that I'd lost four pounds in the last 48 hours. It's not really the physical weight that I felt had been lifted, though. It's tough to describe... it's like I was carrying myself differently, and my body felt simplified, fresher than usual. Those feelings passed after about ten minutes, and now I feel about average, maybe a little bit better. There's something different about my body, but it's so subtle and faded that I only really notice it when I'm concentrating.

My taste for the lemonade has almost completely transformed. I can scarcely taste the pepper any more, and I'm really enjoying the flavor of the lemon juice. I don't even taste the maple syrup, and the actual act of drinking the stuff is much more pleasant than it was Saturday night. It feels like it has a lot less substance than it did initially, and I've already finished about 55 ounces of the stuff as of this writing (3:45pm). I may approach the maximum recommended daily intake of 100oz by the end of the day, if I keep it up. My tolerance for the tea, unfortunately, has gone in the opposite direction. I cannot stand that stuff, and find myself eager to remove it from my life. If it weren't for one or two glasses of that crap every day, I could imagine myself lasting a lot longer on this diet.

I had a few serious hunger pangs last night, and a few grumbles of the stomach have accompanied me this afternoon. It's nowhere near as urgent a cry as I'd anticipated, though, and it's quickly silenced by a gulp or two of lemonade. I do wish Taco Bell would quit advertising their glorious beef burritos when I'm in front of the set, though. I'm like a Pavlovian dog now, salivating at the opening tunes of their commercials. Again, it's not so much a physical need as it is a mental yearning. So many of my waking hours have been scheduled around my meals, I'm finding it hard to function without food in hand.

It's been about sixty five hours since my last meal, and I feel no worse for the wear. Where last night, I was counting the days until I could enjoy another hamburger, today I feel pleased with my current predicament.