freckle juicer

Gwyneth really threw me a curve ball.  As part of the BE section of GOOP, this week she writes about postpartum depression.

As it turns out, Gwyny struggled with depression after her son Moses was born in 2006.  She keeps her story short and devoid of details, so I can only assume she consulted a postpartum depression detox specialist/doctor/friend, and was back to being the Gwyneth we all know and revile in no time.  

The newsletter also features a section written by actress and known ginger Bryce Dallas “Daughter of Ron” Howard.  Bryce describes her perfectly pleasant pregnancy and the crippling depression after her son’s birth.  Her account is pretty horrifying.  She had no feelings for her baby, who she called “it”, but acted as the beaming new mom everyone expected.  She even lied to her doctor about feeling great while feeling like a failure as a mother.  AND THIS WENT ON FOR A YEAR AND A HALF.  She finally admitted a problem, which she was too embarrassed to talk about before, and used homeopathic therapy to recover.  Scary stuff.

Gwyneth also links to dooce.com, which includes the blogger’s experience with postpartum depression.  I was too bummed out after the Bryce Dallas Howard story to read anymore.
What was interesting about Bryce’s account, besides her “weird usage of quotation marks that got annoying”, was her insistence on natural medicine.  OMG do you guys remember when Tom Cruise called Matt Lauer “glib” when discussing Brooke Shields’ use of antidepressants to treat postpartum depression on his couch-jumping ‘05 media tour????  That was great!  And it still sounds completely insane:

Which nutty insistence is crazier?  That he keeps saying that his understanding of the history of psychiatry makes him an expert on Brooke Shields’ depression?  Or that Matt Lauder not having read studies on antidepressants disqualifies him from even asking Tom the questions?  TOUGH ONE.  One thing is clear:  Tom Cruise is nuts.

Oh, and this just in:  Marion Cotillard is the new Gwyneth Paltrow.

Until next week,

In this week’s GOOP, Gwyneth advises you to GO to San Francisco.  Cool, Gwyneth.  Let’s go!

Oh but wait, I’ve already been.  Twice.

In 2005, I was in my first year of grad school* (*not actual graduate school, but school after undergrad) in New York City.  My classmate and BFF Kamila was getting married the first day of summer break just north of San Francisco.  She invited me (thx!) and another girlfriend (“GF”) from school.  VACATION!!!  GF and I planned a five day trip to the city and surrounding areas. The plan was simple.  We’ve fly in, rent a car, drive to the Marin County wedding, stay there two days, drive back to SF, and spend a few days checking out the city.  It was going to be my first time west of the Mississippi.  I was excited.  A week or so before the big finals week/vacation week extravaganza, GF changed the plans a bit.  She was going to stop home in Idaho first, then we’d meet at the Oakland airport as originally planned.  Um, OK.  

The first leg of the trip went according to plan.  The SuperShuttle driver picked me up at precisely 4:00am as promised.  But I was the only one in the van.  That’s normal right?  It’s also normal for him to take a backroad scenic route through Queens?  And sing to me the whole time?  Good, I thought maybe that was weird. The layover in my hometown of Chicago was so brief I barely had time to get a Cinnabon and Jamocha latte.  As I waited to board with my 3000 calorie breakfast, my phone rings.  It was GF calling from Idaho.  She wasn’t coming.  I called my mom because this is a moment in life when you call your mom.  She offered to come get me at the airport.  Tempting.  I didn’t know how to drive, which was kind of a major part of the vacation.  The flight attendant told me to get off the phone.  I guess I was going.

I called the bride-to-be to explain the situation when I landed in Oakland.  I took a bus north.  Kamila’s fiancé picked me up.  I’m sure a trip to the bus depot to collect someone he barely knew was just the relaxing day-before-the-wedding activity he had in mind.  That or golf.  ”Whoa, what mountain is that?”  I asked half a dozen times.  They were all hills.  The midwest is flat, OK?

I was able to cancel my hotel reservations at the wedding location, a relief after my date stood me up with four nights booked.  Kamila let me stay in her room the night before.  I was turning out to be quite the pain in the ass.  She left me in the care of her sister-in-law on the big day.  Huge mistake.  I was sloshed before the ceremony started.  I hear it was a beautiful wedding.



I crashed with the bridesmaids that night and was able to score a ride down to the city the next day.  My hotwire.com hotel room was nothing to email home about, but it was cheap and centrally located.  Gwyneth recommends staying at the Four Seasons but cautions the brand can be “hit or miss.”  Ha.  I’m pretty sure Four Seasons’ are always a “hit.”  She has some nice looking restaurant choices too.  I ate Quiznos both days.  It was good.  Mmmm mmmm mmmmm mmmm TOASTY!  I hit all the tourist traps BY MYSELF.  Did I mention that I was all ALONE this whole time?  I was alone the whole time.  Gwyneth never mentions Alcatraz or Fisherman’s Wharf.  Glaring oversight.  The SuperShuttle got me back to the airport without further incident.

I went back to San Francisco in 2008 with my boyfriend.  We rented this tiny car.




It had a laminated map with a guided tour through the speakers.  Brilliant!  It couldn’t go up all the hills, so I’d have to get out and push.  Every touristy guide to San Francisco, including GOOP, only has to be six words long: RENT A GOCAR.  POSE WITH IT.




We ended the that trip with a perfect outdoor dinner party across the Bay.  Wes’s cousin and his girlfriend prepared a feast as we talked with their friends about our “total San Fran experience.”  We saw all the sights, even felt an earthquake.  ”Did you have gay sex?” someone asked.  Good point.

Let’s be honest here.  I like the idea of detoxifying my body as much as the next mostly sane person out there who’s not sure a detox is safe or necessary.  I more like the idea of being less fat.  So last night, before my pizza and beer retox binge, I pulled out the scale.  I expected to lose somewhere between 50-100 pounds.  AND?  Three.  

Fuck you, Gwyneth Paltrow.

I had the strangest dream last night.

I was at a church, except the church was the college apartment I shared with four other girls sophomore year.  It had the same mis-matched furniture and the giant 90s era big screen TV.  I was in the middle of the long, thin space sitting at a table eating a huge bowl of Caesar salad and drinking wine out of a chalice/pimp cup.  Then my childhood priest, long dead in real life, burst through the door.  He ripped the pimp cup out of my hand and said “praise be to God.”

Whoa.  Out of all the things I could’ve eaten in my dreamlife I pick Caesar salad?  A fucking salad?  Even my subconscious is under Gwyneth’s spell.  Also, why is a dead priest making a cameo?  Weird.

I couldn’t stomach another blueberry and almond milk smoothie so I just ate the blueberries.  Put me in GOOP jail or whatever.  My tongue got obsessed with the berry remnants in my teeth on the way to work.  I was too busy this morning to really get hungry, but come lunchtime I was RAVENOUS.  Lunch was miso soup.  I went to the little Japanese restaurant near my office and look what was on my straw.

A little flower!  How cuuuute!  The soup was not cute.  The big white spoon was kind of cute, but not straw-wrapper flower cute.

It was tasty.  So tasty, in fact, that it must have been filled with MSG or whatever artificial taste ingredient they use in restaurants.

Dinner was “steamed fish with quinoa and squash.”  I don’t know what quinoa is and I don’t care enough to google.  I don’t care for squash.  It reminds me of Thanksgiving and murdered Native Americans because I have Stage IV White Guilt.  I visited the fancy deli for the third time this week, where they already know I want the salmon.  Today it had the green shit on it again.

I ordered Wes (aka the luckiest man in the world) a Finger Lickin’ Chicken sandwich.  I kept sticking my nose in the bag the whole way home trying to get a whiff of the sweet barbecue sauce.  I kept smelling salmon.  It smelled like fish.  Yuck.  I longingly stared at his delicious meal FOR THE LAST TIME.  And salt.  Oh I miss salt.

And so…this is it?  I’m done?  The sins of day five are still heavy on my mind.  OMG do I have, like, a guilt complex?  The Catholic guilt dream.  The rejection of pilgrim food.  The four beers that I just can’t forget.  I wonder if Gwyneth has any fabulous doctor friends who are guilt detox specialists.

Love,

My internal monologue, immediately upon waking:

When do I have to get up today?  Oh yeah it’s Sunday.  Ahhhh.  Ugh I’m thirsty.  Oh shit.  I drank four beers last night.  Oh my god.  Jesus Michelle.  Beer?  Four beers?  How could you do that?  Gwyneth’s going to be so pissed.

My “I can’t believe I did that last night” morning shame-a-thons are pleasantly rare since I settled into blissful domestic partnership five years ago.  Still, I felt really guilty.  I figured skipping my breakfast blueberry smoothie completely reversed the delicious beer damages of last night.  That makes sense right?  Right.  So, back on track.

I went to a beginners yoga class this morning.  It was pretty great.  The best part might have been the instructor’s tie-dyed spandex pants.  Yoga seems like something new-agers and hippies could have it common, so I guess the pants make sense.  I learned to downward dog.  I’ll be back.  Good call, Gwyneth.

I picked up a piece of salmon for lunch at the fancy prepared foods deli on the way home from the gym.

I had a hair in it.  A blond one.  Yuck.  I still ate it.

The salmon kept me nice and satisfied until dinnertime.  The menu called for Detox Chicken, the same thing I accidentally marinated in balsamic vinaigrette on day two.  I had a chicken breast but it was in the freezer.  It was frozen it there.  Oops.  Should have thought about that.  Back on day two I grilled two pieces of chicken with the idea that my boyfriend would eat the other one.  He politely declined and it had been sitting in my refrigerator ever since.  I called my mom.  Was it safe to eat?  She said yes.  It sure didn’t look appetizing.  

I ate it cold.  I think I’m reaching the end of my GOOP rope.  Good thing I only have to suffer through one more day.

There’s part in Kathy Griffin’s stand up special Allegedly where she lays into Gwyneth Paltrow for being a condescending ”big bag of bullshit.”  She goes onto describe Gwyneth’s annoying lack of self-awareness during the promotional tour of Shallow Hal and their awkward encounter on the red carpet: 

Of course she’s humorless, SHE’S STARVING!  My crabbiness is manifesting a little more like Chris Farley:

Lay off me I’m starving,

I was afraid to drink the Smooth Move tea Friday night.

I have four different part-time jobs.  It’s common in the field.  What’s uncommon is my Saturday office’s strictly enforced no poo policy.   You can poo in the bathroom down the hall but not in the office bathroom.  Someone should tell the rule maker that women don’t switch positions and use the same general expulsion technique and sometimes it just happens.  That someone is not me.

Working Saturdays isn’t all bad.  Every other week my dad takes me out to breakfast beforehand.  There’s common advice that you should learn as much about your elders’ lives as possible.  I wish I was wise enough to ask more about my grandparents first hand before they died.  So I like listening to my dad talk even if he tells the same stories over and over.  He’s an old man in a new world and he’s never really adjusted.   He struggles with technology.  “They did something to my computer and now it defaults to Times New Roman.  Times New Roman!  Can you believe that?  I’m a Comic Sans kind of guy.”  He has his first gay work friend.  “He’s such a likable guy.  I think the girls flock to him because he’s not a threat.”  Duh, dad.  He doesn’t want to retire but his body won’t cooperate.  “I’m still at the top of my game.  I can still spin the magic horseshit.  But I think it’s killing me.”

I ordered a tea only.  He told the waitress I was a “size 2 in training.”  Daaaaaaaaddddd you’re soooo embarrassing!  I ate my blueberry breakfast on the train.  I drank some water.  I was still hungry. 

Lunch was raw vegetables, which Gwyneth calls “crudite” because of course she does.  I bought a bag of green beans. 

I ate about half.  I drank some more water.  I ate my afternoon snack early.  Almonds.  More water.  I was still hungry.  I white knuckled it until 5:30 when I attempted a new recipe, Cucumber and Avocado Soup.  I made a mess.

It looked like guacamole.  It tasted like cucumber foam.  

I don’t really like cucumbers.  Yuck.  I could only handle a few spoonfuls.  I was so hungry.  It wasn’t even 6 o’clock yet.  Then, John called.

John and I spent our early twenties working slow weeknight shifts at a dive bar.  He moved back to Scranton, PA five years ago and only comes to visit once a year or so.  He was in town.  It was on Facebook, apparently, but I must have missed it.  He was down the street at our former place of employment.  I knew better BUT JOHN IS ONLY IN TOWN ONCE A YEAR!  I lasted five minutes before ordering a beer.  A had a few beers and some pretzels and some quesadillas.  I got really full really fast.

I’m pretty sure all I retox-ed all the detox.  I was so hungry.  Ugh.

Love?

I actually worked out this morning!

I start all my days at the gym the same way, by frantically searching for all the Chicago “celebrities” that I hear frequent the place.  I’m still waiting for my first sighting of Guiliana From E!, or Bill from The Apprentice, or Jillian from The Bachelorette.  If I’m there just to exercise with the commoners I try to position myself directly in front of the ESPN2 TV, which is always showing cheerleading or a World’s Strongest Man competition.  But today was Pilates.  I’m happy to report no GOOP-induced limitations on my ability to strengthen my core muscles.

I started doing Pilates a few months ago after it was recommended by several doctors and physical therapists.  My back pain started last summer, intensified in the fall, and crippled me by spring.  I did physical therapy.  I did it for 12 weeks.  12 weeks!  No improvement.  I finally had an MRI and diagnosis this May: osteoarthritis of the spine with several herniated discs.  Yikes.  Arthritis is rare in people my age.  The sciatica from the bulging discs ranges from mildly annoying to unbearable.  Pilates has helped me keep most days in the “mildly annoying” category.  But it’s even more complicated.  I’m a dental hygienist and I’m afraid my days working clinically are numbered.  Ack.  I won’t go into that because this is a FUN blog about self-starvation not a SAD blog about self-pity.  Look for feelingsorryformyselfandlosingperspective.tumblr.com coming soon.  Not really.

I had a blueberry smoothie for breakfast and miso soup for lunch.  Yawn.  I wasn’t really hungry and wasn’t operating in an extended state of delirium like yesterday.  The ambush on my willpower came from the outside.  My neighbor texted me that she got a new case (CASE!) of champagne and asked me over to sample a bottle or two.  Another friend sent a Facebook invite for karaoke tonight.  Two other friends emailed me about seeing Toy Story 3.  Wait, Toy Story 3?  That sounded safe.  Safe UNTIL I was sitting between the two of them and their buttery, salty popcorn for two hours without so much as a stick of gum to munch.  The movie was good.  We cried.   Just three grown women crying at a kids’ movie on a Friday night.  Gwyneth would be so proud.

Before I headed to the theater I had to find a piece of steamed salmon with steamed greens.  Blending skills aside, I’m not much of a cook.  I’d never pull off salmon.  Luckily the place that keeps me plied with wine sells various fancy prepared foods.  This salmon already had green stuff on top!  Two birds, one stone.

I’m sure the oozing yellowy liquid coming from the fish is something organic and Gwyneth-approved.  This is the first delicious thing I’ve eaten all week.  I only shoved half of it in my mouth before I could be bothered to take a picture.  I ate it al fresco with a Fugi water and a Vanity Fair.  Related: I am white.

I’m going to bed now before the hunger I’ve eluted all day can find me.

Love,

At least I felt normal the first two days.

Day three’s breakfast description was surprisingly vague.  ”Oatmeal.”  OK.  Gwyneth didn’t say it couldn’t be the Quaker Instant Oatmeal that I’ve had in my cabinet forever and may or may not be expired I forgot to look so oh well it was good and I even had two envelopes mixed with non filtered water so suck it.

It was warm and familiar.  Turns out the generous portion didn’t do me any favors.  I was really hungry by 10:30am.  The stomach pangs kind of came and went during the morning, but the exhaustion never went away.  I was so tired.  There might have been obnoxious yawning, dropping things that can’t be used once they’ve been on the ground, bumping into doors and walls, and overall grouchiness.  My broccoli soup lunch filled me up (relatively speaking of course, it’s no Chipotle), but never gave me any energy.  At least I didn’t barf it down someone else’s sink this time.

I was looking forward to my afternoon juice “snack.”  I’ve heard from infomercials that juicing is a great source of energy.  Good!  I needed energy!  My $15.99 non-dishwasher safe blender from Walgreens was the biggest equipment investment I was willing to make so The Jack La-Lane Power Juicer was definitely out of the question.  Google let me in on a little secret: there’s a juice bar in the food court on the second floor of Macys.  (Marshall Fields R.I.P.)  Wait, there’s a food court in the middle of Macys?  There’s a food court in the middle of Macys!  The long line gave me the chance to mull my size options.  The small would probably be more GOOP friendly, but the large was only $.50 more.  I ordered the large.

Whoa.  Large is right.  This sucker is 1 and a half apples, 1 beet, and 5 carrots.  It was missing something, not taste like most other GOOP meals, but ice.  Ice would have made it enjoyable.  I drank 2/3rds of it before I heard Gwyneth’s voice in my head.  ”You’ve had enough fatass.”  What a bitch.  I ditched the rest and headed for the gym.

This is now the second day in a row I’ve gone to the gym without working out.  This trip was for the steam room, which Gwyneth promises will rid my skin of toxins.  Boy, it’s hot in there.  I remembered I didn’t take off my mascara just as the first black sweat drop hit my nice white towel.  Oops.  I lasted about 10 minutes before I got too hot and too sweaty and too thirsty.  I hope all those nasty toxins are out of me so I don’t have to pee them out during the night.

I went home and had a bowl of miso soup, sans watercress.  I’m hoping to fall asleep before the hunger starts up again.  Tomorrow morning will be my first attempt at real exercise since I’ve been GOOPing.  I usually have a hard time surviving pilates when I’m fully nourished, so we will see.

Love,

Let’s be honest here: I hate getting up to pee in the middle of the night.  It’s not the peeing, it’s the getting up.  I don’t like getting the mail either, but that’s not really revelent to the GOOP detox.  I PEED FOUR TIMES LAST NIGHT!  I should have expected this to happened with all the smoothie-sipping, soup-eating, and laxative tea-drinking.  By the way, Smooth Move tea, I’m disappointed in you.

I got up early this morning, put on my least pit-stained “Oral Cancer Walk 2006” t-shirt, and headed to the gym.  The sign outside the yoga studio said “Vinyasa Yoga for intermediate and advanced only.”  I don’t even have the balance needed to stand on the bus, let alone survive an advanced yoga class.  I walked home while taking some deep relaxation breaths and called it exercise for the day.  I stopped at Starbucks on the way home with the intention of ordering an herbal tea, per GOOP instuctions.  I caved and bought a small, unsweetened black iced coffee.  Look Gwyneth, I need caffeine.  I can’t handle starving AND having a massive withdrawl headache.  

While locked safely back at home away from coffee chain store temptation, I had hoped a little less aggressive blending would help control the froth on the breakfast smoothie, but today’s concoction was foamy too.  Also, these blueberry drinks aren’t meant for leisurely sipping.  The glass separated into liquid and foamy goop (ha!) in 10 minutes.

OK, you guys, I need to tell you about the coconut water.  First, notice the floaties.

I’ve had some unpleasant things in my mouth before, I had a thing for dirty hipsters in college, but this rivals GU running gel as the most disgusting thing I’ve ever forced myself to swallow.  Sorry Gwyneth.

Lunch was the broccoli soup again.  I heated up my leftovers from yesterday.  It was enjoyably filling.  Then I went to my orthodontist to be fitted for a new retainer.  I only mention it because I barfed up my GOOP soup there.  I’ve never even gagged during an impression before but WHOA I’m glad I made it to the sink.  I wasn’t embarassed as much as annoyed that I’d probably be hungry again soon and I couldn’t eat for hours.  I’m willing to consider the barfing and the detoxing purely coincidental…for now.

I switched the afternoon snack with dinner after my lunch ended up down the drain.  The recipe calls for a chicken breast marinated in balsamic vinegar.  I realized mid-marinade that I bought balsamic vinaigrette on accident.  I hope the extra “ette” doesn’t mess with my detox.  It is organic, by the way, if you couldn’t tell from the 46 times it says so on the bottle.

And I grilled it!  On the grill!

It tasted like chicken in that way that chicken usually does. I made an extra for my boyfriend which he’s so far refused to eat.  Smart man.

My late night snack was miso soup.  

I like miso soup but even the restaurant version doesn’t have much taste.  Gwyneth’s recipe is “Miso Soup With Watercress” but watercress wasn’t clearly marked in Whole Food’s greens’ section so I did without it.  I kind of doubt watercress is make or break with this soup anyway.  It was bland and will probably make me pee all night.  Miso sick of peeing.

Public barfing aside, today was pretty easy.  I wasn’t hungry all day.  Tomorrow’s meals look even more meager, but at least I’ll have less to throw up.  I’m giving this laxative tea another go.  God help me.

Love,

Here we go!

I’ve accepted that I can only leave my apartment for work and the gym.  It’s a big, bad non-macrobiotic world out there.  A week’s worth of social activities is a small price to pay to the GOOP gods.  Today was pretty OK.  Work kept me busy, no one invited me out for happy hour, and now I’m safely locked at home with Gwyneth-approved detox foods only.  Oh wait, I just remembered a have some beer in the fridge.  I shouldn’t have reminded myself.  Let’s get to the play-by-play.

“Upon rising” Gwyneth insists on both a glass of room temperature water with lemon and herbal tea.  Easy enough.

Do you see how I got sneaky and put a lemon in the tea?  I’m so bad!  I’m not sure why room temperature water is a better cleanser than cold water, but it’s certainly not as pleasant.  The tea, meh.  I’m not a big tea person.  These two drinks happen every morning on GOOP.

For breakfast Gwyneth provides a recipe for a blueberry/almond/protein powder smoothie.  Yum?

Well, it’s no Jamba Juice.  I went a little nuts with the pulse button on my new $15.99 Walgreens blender and it came out a little frothy.  Still, I garnished with a bendy straw and sucked it down.  This is breakfast every morning.  I’ll cool it with the blender button power trip tomorrow.

The GOOP detox recommends a mid-morning “snack” of coconut water.  I bought it but forgot to bring it to work.  Whoops.  I’ll try it tomorrow.  Lunch is next!  Today’s selection is a salad of lettuce, onions, and avocado with a carrot/ginger dressing that Gwyneth calls “the jam.”  We’ll see.

Not bad.  The avocados didn’t have much taste, which might be because I don’t know how to select the ripe kind and picked the top one off the heap.  The onions were tasty though.

My mid-afternoon snack was a handful of sunflower seeds.  The organic, unsalted raw kind, not the David’s BBQ and Ranch kind.  Pleasant enough.  Dinner is broccoli soup with elitist arugula blended in.

Gwyneth calls this soup “dynamic” and “peppery.”  I call it bland and strangely textured.  I added some Tony Chacheres seasoning for a little kick.  Worked like a charm.

I’m about to settle in with a hot cup of laxative tea.  I don’t have to work tomorrow, so it seems like the right time to give it a try.  Also tomorrow: my first attempt at yoga and the steam room.  Hunger wasn’t an issue today, but I suspect that won’t last long.

Love,