A Case of the Januarys

You’ve heard the saying, “everything in moderation, including moderation.” I suppose I resemble that remark, most of the time. However, in the first month of the year, it would seem my mantra shifts to something more akin to “Hedonism in December, masochism in January.” I eat, drink, and make merry all holiday season, and then do the exact opposite come the new year. For those who have lost count, it is now January 75, and I have felt each and every single, solitary day. This is the month that never ends.

This was me, all glorious December long.

I will admit, I reveled in food in December I had not eaten in years. Gluten, dairy, fast food— it was all fair, glorious game. I may or may not have even revisited my old friend the Taco Bell Crunch Wrap Supreme (and it was mana from heaven). There was a maelstrom of martinis and a tidal wave of takeout. And while it was delicious fun while it lasted, now the only thing left in my closet that fits are my earrings. It’s time to course correct in a major way. Hello, January.

In addition to cutting out our near daily DoorDash deliveries (sob), we are also trying to eat as little processed food as possible. Read: eliminate joy at all costs. Substitute apples and baby carrots. Replace happiness with fresh produce. If it tastes good, best to consider it contraband. Dessert will now consist solely of gummy vitamins.

Powerless to resist a gimmick, I also ordered a seven day cleanse that cropped up in my Instagram feed for some added motivation to hopefully kickstart some healthier eating habits. (At this point, the box it shipped in would be healthier than what I have been consuming). For the low price of $140, I got some holy basil tea, packets of chocolate protein powder to create nutritious smoothies, a very abysmal “golden latte” made from some mystical mushroom blend that I was never completely able to force down, and supplements to use during my intermittent fasting windows to nourish my gut and improve my overall health.

The cleanse also claims to reduce overall inflammation, which is a relief since I recently had a holistic masseuse whisper to me in a horrified voice, “your entire system is on fire.” This will undoubtedly be the closest—outside of cremation—I ever come to having a smoking hot body, but still, not exactly my ideal. Misery loves company, and yet Clint swears he does not remember his oath to do a modified version of said cleanse alongside me, which would explain why, when I was enjoying my pureed zucchini celery soup for dinner, he chose pulled pork and sweet potato fries. Modified, indeed.

My 7-Day Cleanse package. Heaven knows my system could use a good cleaning at this point.

I made it through the week-long cleanse, and even managed the dreaded 24-hour fasting period without killing anyone (I was warned that I was being somewhat unpleasant, which can happen when you are drinking black coffee and your spouse is chewing Twizzlers, just to be fair). I dropped a few pounds, which hopefully takes my weight below that of a college football wide receiver, but still leaves me quite a way to go. The sins of December linger long into the months that follow, she said with a sigh.

Still, I will feel better when we have all gotten January under our (tightened) belts. To add to the misery, we committed to Dry January as well. My husband equates falling snow with sipping bourbon by a fire, so naturally we have had not one but two (admittedly miniscule) snowfalls during this prohibition as well. My cranberry spritzer mocktails have apparently scratched no one’s itch, fresh squeezed juices be damned. To paraphrase Wilson Philips, hold on just a few more days. Although there is still much work to be done, we can get back to it with the occasional cocktail here and there to ease the tension, celebrate our success, and/or drown our sorrows.

Starting with a big CHEERS to say farewell to my least favorite month of the year! Happy trails, January!