Excuse my absence.

Over the last few days I've been engaged in a fierce battle. It's tested my will to live, my physical endurance, and my spiritual and psychological limits. I've had to face countless demons only to be forced to beat them back against Brobdingnagian tides of adversity. I have lost myself and had to dive to the depths of my very soul to retrieve even a shred of a reason to why I should recover what was lost.

I have been Master Cleansing for 93 now and I feel like I'm going to eat my own arm if I don't get a cheeseburger.

The torture of self-induced starvation is like no other solely because it's something you're doing to your self. I have let my inner slave driver loose upon myself, of all people. I must be insane. I must have, somewhere, somehow, lost my marbles. It's the only explanation.

For those of you who haven't heard of the Master Cleanse, it's basically a 10 day journey into Hades, where the only thing you're allowed to consume is warm salt water, Senna tea, and lemonade made from maple syrup, lemons, and cayenne pepper.

WTF, ya'll.

This magical concoction supposedly has the power to cleanse your system of anything that may be plaguing it. Ulcers? Banished! Mucus? Finished! Acne? Deceased! Third nipple? Ok, you'll have to go to a dermatologist for that. But it's a minor procedure and you could probably do it on your lunch hour.

When I first read about this cleanse, I have to say, I was NOT AT ALL skeptical. I accepted it as mother's milk. I attempted it at that time. I actually got to the very place I am now. The fourth day. But I had a lunch meeting with a client and I felt it would be unprofessional to not eat and only drink from a bottle that I was keeping in my purse. …And I was starving to death. Also, there weren't any mind blowing "results"...if you catch my drift. Ew.

This time around I'm wiser and with that wisdom has come the skepticism. However, regardless I am sticking to it this go-round. I'm determined to do the whole ten days. Even if nothing happens at least I can say I did it all the way through and be able to say with authority that the Master Cleanse is a crock of shit. Whereas the last time there was a little voice in my head that kept nagging me with things like "I bet if you had stuck with it just one more day something big would have happened." I must dispel of these questions and find the truth I so desperately seek.

You may be wondering what it must feel like to not eat for four days. Unless of course you're anorexic. Then you're probably not wondering that at all. For the rest of you I’ll tell you it's hellish. That's the only word I can think of. Sure, there are some benefits that I've noticed. I have a little bit more energy. My circulation seems a bit better. I have more time in the day now that I no longer need a lunch break. Who likes those anyways? I’ve also developed a ridiculous sense of smell. But I don’t know if I would consider any of these things amazing, starve-yourself-stupid-to-get benefits. On the whole I just feel hungry. That's it. It seems to be all I can think of. From what foods I miss, to what foods I want to try, to how much I miss chewing, it's ALL I can think about.

I feel ridiculous and I'm really having the hardest time continuing this. I keep reading all these other people's experiences and I just feel like calling bullshit.

Who knows? Perhaps by tomorrow all will be righted. I don't really see that happening though unless I find my face in a pepperoni personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut®.

Either that or this cleanse forces a brontosaurus from my bowels.

Hi weareverywell,

I recently received the following email from a good friend's boyfriend:

Subject line: love
Body of email: I love you.

This boy has a history of drunkenly pulling me aside at parties to
Tell me that I’m beautiful, etc, etc. I’ve managed to keep this under
wraps and have told no one about any of these incidents. Even if it's
just an affectionate gesture, it still makes me feel awkward because
I don't know him that well. That being said, he is a really great guy
and doesn't set off any warning bells aside from this little quality.

My friend and this guy are in a serious relationship ... met the
parents, talk of moving in together, marriage, etc. after this last
email, I’m officially freaked out. Do I ignore it like I usually do?
or acknowledge it in a joking manner? There’s something different
about seeing it in writing. I want to be able to hang out with them,
my boyfriend and I enjoy double dating with them. Please advise?

Sincerely,
walking on eggshells


Dear Walking,

I understand not wanting to blow something out of proportion and risk a friendship and getting all messy, etc. I understand he's a "great guy and doesn't set off any warning bells aside from this little quality."

You truly are walking on eggshells.

NOT.

Ahem...ARE YOU KIDDING!?

Here's what I would look like after opening such an email:




Even after such a glowing review from you, I still am more focused on your statements “my good friend’s boyfriend” and “I don’t know him that well.”

He very well may be a great, fun guy to hang out with, but he is so out of line here it's incredible. This isn’t a “little quality”. This is a huge red flag. You can see this red flag from outer space. I just received a noise complaint from China about this alarm bell.

Now, if this girl was just having some fun with this guy and was in no way serious, then fine. Let him be the biggest sleaze on the block. No skin off anyone’s back.
But the steps that he and she are talking about taking are major, life-changing, gigantic, serious steps. Everything needs to be on the table and they both need to know what they’re getting into, as well as with whom.

You need to make it clear to him that it was a mistake that you've let things slide in the past, but this is too much and you've drawn the line. The girlfriend has to know. He should ABSOLUTELY be the one to tell her. After all, he made this bed. However, if he refuses, then you'll have to. Either way she has to know. No question.

If a blind person were about to walk barefoot across hot coals, you'd stop them. Right? Right.

People say and do things all the time when they're drunk that they don't mean. However, this isn't the case here. It's a recurring issue and by the sound of things, it's just getting more intense.

As for bringing it up as a joke, I would avoid the lighthearted route. It isn't a joke and it is far from funny.

It's all very unpleasant and embarrassing and you will most likely lose a friend. The fact that you haven't called him out sooner will probably cost you the girl's friendship as well. But, as they get more serious and invested, think of how much more unpleasant and embarrassing it will be when it eventually does surface.

And surface it will. Trust me, it will be ten thousand times more hideous if something isn’t done now.

I'm sorry if you really love to grab drinks with these two crazy kids, but this is a shade more important than that.

Honestly, the best case is that being faced with losing a woman that matters very much to him will make this guy come correct and rededicate to the relationship. If she chooses to forgive him they could get through this. People do. Working through something so difficult can strengthen the relationship once the trust is regained.

The worst case: they break up and you need to find a new couple to do brunch with.

Hello HELLO. Happy New Year and all of it!! There have been so many things that have been happening...where to start? At the beginning I suppose.

So, the beginning…When I last left off I was in the midst of holiday madness, trying to accept with grace the shift in my holiday responsibilities from pretty much nothing to a whole hell of a lot. Or as I have chosen to start referring to it as: from receiver to giver.
Now that the holiday season is over and I have fully tried out my "embrace the hard way" approach, I'd have to say that it was very, very helpful.

In a very surprising turn of events, this mindset helped me with a holiday issue that had been plaguing my season for a while now. Every Christmas I go back to good ol' Texas with visions of crisp, clear air with a hint of firewood and sage, mugs full of cocoa by the fire, a toasty couch to lounge on with all the cable and snacks I could ever consume, giant hugs from gorgeous family and friends that have only managed to get more gorgeous and interesting over the past year, and, of course, a tidy, respectable mountain of gifts. There's also a Maine Coon cat in there somewhere. All in all, a very J. Crew Christmas.

Call me ridiculous. Go ahead. But that's what I see when I think of home for the holidays.

Let me interrupt here to interject a thought that is somewhat relevent. A phenomenon that has always fascinated me was the syndrome that most always accompanies people with eating disorders: those that are afflicted with a severely distorted self-image. These poor people look in the mirror and, although they weigh somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 and a half pounds, they see is a giant walrus staring back at them, condemning their inability to keep control of their disgusting eating habits.
(On a sidenote: The flip side is even more intriguing. You know, those metric ton ladies who are most often seen running around the set of Jerry Springer in a hot, little Fredrick's of Hollywood number. They're almost always accompanied by an entourage of around 11 illegitamate children.)

Well, in case you were wondering the point of that digression, I'd like to say that I too may have been a victim of a distorted self-image... Every year, no matter how convinced I am of the J. Crew-iness awaiting me, from the moment I step off the plane, slowly but surely, my ass is kicked back into the outlet store that is my reality.

The first misconception that comes to my attention is of course the lack of clean, crisp air. Houston is one of the most polluted and humid cities in America. One step out of the airport and my hair is like that damn Garnier commercial and my adorable mitten/hat/scarf set is about as useless as my bathing suit is in February. Of course I brush this disappointment off. "Who needs a white Christmas!!??! Or even a seasonably cool one!!? Not me! No sir. It's good to have some warm gulf air for a change."

My other dreams begin to meet the same fate. There doesn't seem to be one that is completely safe. I do get my mug of cocoa, but sans fireplace. Also, it's a little hard to get that cozy feeling when your father has confined you to the kitchen for fear of soiling the precious white carpet. Heaven forbid.
My couch is there, but the toasty is not. Somehow, by some miracle of modern day science, my father has figured out a way to defy the warmth outside and maintain a deceivingly authentic arctic chill inside...without air-conditioning. How does he work such magic? I think it may have to do with the over-abundance of concrete, marble, and glass. Tré modérne, yes. But again, not conducive to holiday-ness.

As for the snacks...i will say the holidays are a time of abundance in the Porto pantry, what with all the gift basket, but I can only consume so much summer sausage, sugared pecans, and maple candies. I need snacks of substance. Where, I ask, are the Hot Pockets® and the Pizza Rolls®?
And so much for cable. TBS is not cable. Of course I could watch a movie, but considering the only ones in the house are about either the Civil War, Teddy Roosevelt, big game hunting in North America, or some ridiculous combination of the three, I'd have to say there's slim pickings. Maybe I'm being a brat here, but I would venture to say that I'm really not.

And it is at this point that the "I HATE IT HERE" sentiment starts to creep in. Cable and snacks is where I draw the line. Why else would I come home? In the face of my misconceptions and self-delusions, I'm forced to lash out and surrender to the annual sulk-a-thon.

They say that familiarity breeds contempt. I say yes, of course. But reintroduction to a familiarity that you've put in a good year of effort to distort brews quite a different, and inherently more toxic strain of contempt.

Moving on to the family. At this point I am quickly losing my optimism, but perhaps it could all be restored!

But of course, no. It was saddening and almost horrifying at times. Even cousins, who I, for some unknown reason, had looked forward to talking to about their adorable high school adventures, were no comfort. Instead they amounted to average angst-ridden teenagers. But at this point it washed over me with not so much as a raised eyebrow. Why not? I don't have cocoa or a fire or even a goddamn Fair Isle sweater to speak of! Why would anything go right?!

I will say though KUDOS to my tidy, respectable mountain of gifts. There I cannot complain. My family can dole out the cash. Effort, thoughtfulness, and originality really do not mean more to me than some green. It, after all, looks good on everyone. And I have to say money is a wonderful gift. It is the ultimate way to not impose your tastes on your recipient.

And least I forget, of course my beautiful Maine Coon is nothing but a mangy, old beast of a cat named Gypsy that would claw your eyes out as soon as look at you.

Now. After all this complaining, one would think that I have once again returned from the holidays, utterly spent and aghast at a reality that was hell bent on dashing my hopes. Years past of course that was the case. But this year was different. I accepted that things are never as you'd like them.

As I embarked on my journey home not only was I not holding onto any false ideals, but also was not dreading some sort of monster. It would be what it would be. My family may be insane, my house maybe cold and wholly unwelcoming, and there may not be any cozy moments by the fire with cocoa, but that's that.

It amazing when you just accept that certain experiences are what they are. Fighting things takes so much energy and blocks you almost entirely from learning anything. I used to return to NY exhausted from what was supposed to be a vacation in the lowest of moods, feeling hopless and that the universe was conspiring against me.

How absolutely desolate.

But no longer!

I must admit, even accepted for what it is, it's still sad and a little tiring, but at least I didn't rexperience the shock of it all. Perhaps it gets easier.

So that leads me to my New Year's Resolution. My New Year's Resolution is always the same; in as much is that it is 'to try'. This year it's 'to try to let go and let things be'...as well as 'to try to floss regularly'...