My detox disaster
Obviously feeling pretty unhealthy, my husband recently declared that we were on a detox. He could definitely do with cutting down his alcohol intake, he said. At first I resisted – I’ve been pretty much on the wagon since becoming a mum – but had to admit I’ve not exactly been all about scones and herbal teas either. My need for sugar fixes has increased quite dramatically since Bub arrived, so, after a little prodding from my beer-bellied hubby, I gave in…
I had visions that after a week's detox, I'd be bouncing with boundless energy and baring my fresh and glowing complexion to the world without a scrap of make-up.
But reality check. Detox equals disaster. Worst thing I ever did. Five days into our detox I came to the drastic realisation that denial leads to greed. Not only did I drink more wine in five days than had passed my lips in the previous five months, but my sugar cravings sky rocketed. I've scoffed more Boost bars (have you tried the new peanut one? I have. Lots!) and lollies since D-day than I care to admit. The upshot? I had worse skin and felt flatter than ever. Great idea, hubby.
So, come day six, I ditched the detox altogether.
The moral of my story is simple. Detox is like getting a fringe or almost any big beauty move you make – if it's not your idea in the first place and you're not totally committed, you're heading for a rude shock. And view beauty advice from your man dubiously. At best.