Detox is the New Black

Dear all,

 It is the time of year in England when we all, like lemmings, run to health food stores in order to buy tinctures, drops and supplements all in the hopes of detoxing. 

 This year, in order to rid my body of unwanted toxins, I have given up wheat and dairy (except for butter, obviously).  I will not even have the occasional glass of wine until February.  Unless it seems appropriate. Or it might appear rude if I refuse.

 In return for a little discomfort (i.e.:  not eating sleeves of Hob Nob cookies with my tea everyday), I will have a healthy body that will provide me energy and vitality in the coming year.  I will possess clarity of thought.  I will be more motivated.  I will be thin and muscular.  I will become at least 5’7’’, my graying hair will give way to a cascade of golden curls and wrinkles will fade.  The best part?  J will start to look like Daniel Craig. 

To be fair, I am certain detoxing is useless, but it does seem to help the Brits prepare for Champagne Season, which opens in a few short months, generally around the third week of March.   Detoxing is a step up from self-flagellation and seems to give a bit of purpose to the otherwise dull month of January.

I approached detoxing as I approach everything in life:  I went slinking off to the health food store to ask what was the EASIEST way to get through it.  I was sent away with a milk thistle tincture (which tastes almost as bad as the syrup, lemon juice and chili pepper concoction I drank last detox) and a package of detox patches. 

These patches are like magic, so for sure they are a scam, but I don't care.  At nighttime, you slap a patch on the bottom of each foot and go to bed.  In the morning you peel them off.  How do I describe something so vile?  I know we’ve all dealt with some nasty things over the years, that many of you are parents or medically trained or that when you were younger you poked road kill with sticks, but trust me; you’ve never seen something so awful. 

When you peel off these giant band-aid patches, you are left with a pad full of black tarry toxins that are now, by the grace of God, conveniently located OUTSIDE your body and are safely on their way to a bulging landfill where they clearly belong.  Thankfully, they are no longer INSIDE your body making you short, a bit thick in the middle, tired, cranky and unable to devote quality time to anything but a Mamma Mia DVD. 

Hope your new year is off to a warm and sunny start.  Since that only applies to the three of you who live in Florida, I’ll rephrase.  I hope your new year is one filled with love and peace and the courage to endure the American winter.

With love from England,

T-Ann