It’s like a 9 step program… for your colon…

I’ve been in round two of the Teami 30 day detox. I say been because its lasted longer than the thirty days because I have issues committing to new routines. I’ve been pretty good about drinking the Teami Skinny in the mornings, it’s nice to have something warm to drink on the way to work in the morning and I love me some tea. The real issue here is the colon cleanse portion of this. I’ve noticed the same basic routine of emotions that happen when I drink this hulk buster for my colon.

 

Step 1: Ambition.

This is the “I’m going to get my shit together and get my health on!” phase. You think this is a great and easy way to get a kick start on that healthy living lifestyle.

 

Step 2: Indecision.

You’ve made it to this point before, it’s usually while brewing your tea. You still think this is a great idea but then the memories of your experience start floating back in from the deep dark corners of your brain where you sent them to live a life of exile. But this is still a good decision! …right?

 

Step 3: Regret.

This happens when you’ve brewed your tea and get into the PTSD part of this all. Just one whiff of the tea turns the little raindrop memories that were dropping innocently on the conscious part of your brain into a deluge of instant regret. You now remember the gurgling little gremlin that takes up residence in your intestines at the wee hours of the morning and does a little jig and generally wrecks havoc until you have to wake up because the poo cramps are just too much. Either way, you continue your journey all the while thinking, ‘this smells like a big ol’ steaming cup of regret.’

 

Step 4: Unhappiness.

Now your IBG (irritable bowel gremlin) has set forth on his task and you wake up at three am in pain wondering what the hell you did to deserve such an atrocious wake up call.

 

Step 5: Happiness.

Once you have woken up enough to realize that your insides have not in fact up and died on you you start to piece back the puzzle. An epiphany jumps joyfully in to your sleep ridden brain and you realize, ‘I know how to fix this!’ Which is an actual thought that has happened in my brain at 3am. So you get up and go to the bathroom.

 

Step 6: Unhappiness and Regret all rolled into one.

Now that you’ve had your short lived burst of happiness you realize what a lie it really was. Because now you’re on the toilet expelling anything and everything inside you, including that piece of gum you swallowed in third grade, because your IBG has set forth to his job with a new found sense of fervor towards his lifes purpose.

 

Step 7: Hope.

Two or three more rounds of fiery lava, as if Kilimanjaro came out of its dormancy to enact vengeance on it’s parents murderer with extreme prejudice, splattered throughout your morning and you start to think you may just make it through this. But lets be real, if your colon is Kilimanjaro in this scenario that means that it’s also kind of like the Batman of this scenario and we all know what happens when you cross paths with the Batman. … or an active volcano.

 

Step 8: Recovery.

It’s quite possible that you’ve gotten rid of everything that could possibly still be lurking in your colon and lower GI tract. It’s also possible that you are still full of shit and don’t know your own life. Either way, your IBG has settled down for a rest and you are feeling better about this whole experience. You still hold in your farts because you haven’t restored total trust in your booty hole or your bowels, but at least you can go through your day without fearing the absolute worse… death and destruction of your insides and possibly underoos.

 

Step 9: Acceptance.

It’s the end of the day, your innards have regained their peace and cohesion. You drop trow and whip off your shirt and start up the shower, ready to wash away the days woes and worries, the ripe smell of fear and what I assume to be the scent of inside your colon. Then you stop for a moment to look in the mirror and, assuming you’ve been down this road before, notice the effect it has had on you. Bloating is gone. You look slimmer. There’s an outline of the possibility of having abs one day. Your hair, nails, and complexion are becoming more radiant with every trek through this unbearable hell.  And you think to yourself and your happy colon, ‘this may just be worth it.’ And of course its worth it. The shit that you are probably, if you eat like I do, putting in to your body should NOT remain in your body. If you got up and exercised and ate well also you could look hella good and maybe even gain a new level of self esteem.

Beauty is pain! …but I hate being in pain, and i’m pretty happy with the way I look and have self esteem for days. Which is why I have slacked far too often on doing this. I know it’s good for me. But so are salads and the gym, and well, cake and sleeping has always sounded more appealing to me.

As a product, however, it does what it says it’ll do. Detox you into submission. They say that you can drink water before and after your nightly cup of extreme colon annihilation, but honestly it just doesn’t feel like it’s as effective that way. At least when my booty hole dies a thousand deaths every other day I feel some kind of accomplished, beauty is pain after all. …apparently. I don’t know. I call bull shit. But that’s not what this post is about and I don’t have time to delve into that shit storm right now.

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