I recently implemented drastic changes to my diet as a part of my journey of self love and self respect. Most of my relationships, as I approached 30, needed a revamp – including my relationship with food. Food shouldn’t be used as a reward or punishment but as fuel. (I know this. You know this…..and yet….here I am.) One of these drastic changes is the amount of water I intake. The recommended amount is 64 oz. a day. I don’t think I’ve ever drank 64 oz. of any liquid in a day, let alone water. So my first day in being part camel, I chugged 16 oz. in the morning. Part of my job is located at a college because one of my clients works there, so for four hours I sit in a dining hall. I drank 6 glasses of water and logged them in as 8 oz each.
I was on my way home from work when I heard a roar seemingly from the pits of hell. It wasn’t hell, it was my gut. If given the choice, I think I would rather have to desperately number 1 than number 2. (what a strange option to be given….and from whom?) I began to imagine every worst case scenarios. What if I was dying? I mean, crapping yourself to death is perfectly plausible. Who knew that all those games of Oregon Trail in childhood were really a premonition. “Here lies Nelle. Cause of Death: Dysentery.” What if the urge made me drive recklessly and I died because I had to use the restroom? What if I was pulled over and I had crapped my pants? (Because then the officer would be like “Do you know why I pulled you over?” and I’d of course respond, “Because I crapped my pants?”) My commute never seemed so long. Then I started getting irritated with my gut. There could not be a worst time. I started reasoning with it, if it had to go so badly then it should have made it known before I got into the car. After an eternity I finally made it home, waddled with clenched cheeks to the door, cursed myself for ever locking the front door, made a mad dash to the bathroom and stepping on the cat’s tail in the process. Sorry to disappoint you, dear reader, but I made it. (And didn’t’ die from dysentery.)
Later that evening, I went over to visit my mother. She asked me how the new diet was going. I told her fine, except I was really concerned if I was able to drink enough water. She went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water that had a little bit of flavor to it. She told me to try it. I took it and looked at the size. It was 16 oz. It then dawned on me that those 8 oz. glasses I was chugging at work were actually 12 oz. (It also occurred to me that I reached adulthood without knowing basic measurements) I was above and beyond my recommended intake for the day and had shocked my system like a fire hydrant. Lesson learned – the metric system matters, folks. Teach your kids. I looked up why water is so important. The reasoning I’ve always been given is that we are mostly made up of water so we need to consistently replenish. However that was not reason enough for me, on the account that up until today, I had been mostly coffee. Water helps cell function. Without enough water to wash out the waste in our cells, the toxins just hang out it in there. My cells must’ve looked like potato chips these past 30 years. I have physically been toxic. Water also helps brain function so that also may have contributed to my crappy math skills. Water also helps with digestion, sleep function, radiant skin etc, etc, ETC.!! Water aides life, period. You want a better life? Drink more water. Out with old – in with the new. New habits, new lifestyle, new clothes, and new paint for the apartment. I’m becoming better and healthier from the inside out.