Photo Credit: Jahzara the Savvy Diva
I’ve been juicing for 24 consecutive days, religiously, so you’ll understand why I questioned my religion when I thought I had accidentally poisoned myself.
The morning was as normal as any other morning, except, I overslept an hour as opposed to my usual 20 minute delay. Once the kid was dressed and fed along with the cats and dogs, I hastened to whip up my protein smoothie with kale greens, apples, bananas, strawberries and oranges. With exactly 10 seconds left to spare I palmed a fistful of ice and threw the cubes into my wonderful, yet powerful HeathMaster. To my surprise, there was a minor glitch in my routine…the HealthMaster was jumping sporadically off of the base while spinning to the rhythm of grinding and merging the contents of my daily breakfast. Without hesitation, I poured the beverage into my smoothie cup once the cycle ended and headed for the stairs to the garage.
Without incident — so I thought silently, I’m backing out of the driveway sipping and sucking the contents through the narrow straw. A salty residue filled my palate each time I retrieved my liquid breakfast, but I forged ahead and thought perhaps my bananas were rotten, or the strawberries fell on the counter that had residue left from the seasoning for the kids breakfast.
Fast forward eight hours later, I return up the stairs from the garage and decide to make me a mid evening smoothie to carry me through the dinner hour. As soon as I grabbed the blender to wash out the morning residue, I noticed a cluster of shredded plastic. Instantly my life flashed before my eyes, my heart started racing, my head starting hurting, my vision blurred and the room seemed like a platform for only the insane and discombobulated. I grabbed my cellphone and yelled out names for the voice dial to activate because I couldn’t see straight enough to select the correct contact. Unfortunately I couldn’t find the voice on command button, so no one would be warned of my impeding demise. Damn.
So I took matters into my own hands because I couldn’t let my son find me foaming at the mouth from my self imposed poisonous concoction. My internal voice of reasoning pulled me out of my mental frenzy when I noticed the clock on the microwave. I mouthed quietly to myself, “I’ve been at work all day, and nothing happened to me.” I had begun to realize exactly nine hours had expired, so there was no way I would die prematurely from ingesting the poisonous ice cubes — the hit would’ve been instant.
Two hours later as I quickly palmed another handful of ice cubes for my water, I halted my stance. I grabbed my iPad and conducted a Google search for my poison of choice — just to confirm that my smoothie was non-toxic and I would live another day to whip up another batch in the morning.