Last week, before I started fasting, we had a potluck list for the POTLUCK that took place today. 1 word-CHILAQUILES. One of the parents brought in 2 varieties of this tasty mexican treat. The air was rife with the scents of onions and cilantro. There were refried beans, donuts, and fucking CAKE...at 10 in the morning. My carrot apple ginger juice was NO match. I put up a brave front, but I was dying inside. The other very helpful and generous parents continued to offer me food, me politely declining each time. They just couldn't understand why a sane person could pass up such a bounteous feast. I was persuaded to at least take a plate home to give my son for lunch. I made a small portion and put in my bag with every intention of doing just that.
Me and my son got home and I showed him the plate of delicious chilaquiles. He took one look and was having none of it. I made him a sandwich and then fell upon the chilaquiles like a ravenous beast. With sauce dripping from my chin like the blood that flows from the neck of a freshly killed dear, I came out of this haze of chewing and swallowing and said one word...'FAIL'.
I FAILED SO BAD...and the aftermath was equally horrendous. Stomach cramps, fatigue, and the overwhelming sense that I let myself down. But after I awoke from my chilaquiles fueled nap, I went to the kitchen, started my juicer and made me some MEAN GREEN with added tomatoes and garlic.
Even though I failed, I'm not going to STOP. I just have to be even more diligent. I also need to know that I'm not trying to win a record for the most perfect juice fast ever. I'm human and we all make mistakes, but it IS up to me to keep going, not make this one act an excuse for me to stop. It's my choice, and I choose the juice.