As a mid-thirties housewife with a handful of kids and too much time on my hands, I’ve always thought I could be close to the Goop demographic, minus the ridiculous level of required disposable income, one dear friend named William Joel and with far too much natural idiocy. My attempts at being fancy usually end up with me trying to pass off a gourmet lasagna (whose ingredients cost $75) as some kind of inverted mess after I have to shovel it back in the pan because I spilled it while trying to do a David Lee Roth celebratory kick while taking it out of the oven.
Reading Radar’s post about Gwenyth Paltrow’s annual New Year’s detox diet is all I needed to realize I am SO not her demographic. I don’t have the willpower to not snack between breakfast and my first morning snack (I eat like a hobbit), so the breakdown of the Goop-approved detox just makes me sad.
Day One of Paltrow’s diet, for example, starts off with a glass of “room temperature lemon water.”
At 8 am, dieters may indulge in a mug of herbal tea.
At 10, for breakfast, it’s still more tea with various spices and just two tablespoons of almond butter mixed with half a cup of almond milk.
At 11:30, it’s time for tea or lemon water again.
And at 1:30, her recipe for lunch — which serves four! — includes just one cup of chickpeas, six cups of water, one large onion, juice from three lemons and salt and pepper.
Three hours later, dieters can snack on a paté made from 3/4 cup of walnuts, one cup of lentils, one large onion and seasonings.
Finally, dinner time is 1/4 of a stuffed squash.
Since my method of detox is to go
five three days without circuit training fast food establishments to get a Double Whopper with Cheese (with none of that Satan’s jizz known as mayo), McDonald’s fries and a frosty from Wendy’s to dip them in, I know for a fact I wouldn’t make it past 10am. Whatever the health benefits are, and a licensed nutritionist pretty much smacked the detox in the head with a folding chair WWE-style, the only thing we can be sure of is that Chris Martin is somewhere in a bunker with the kids, canned food, bottled water and a small arsenal of weapons waiting out Gwyneth’s hangry rage.