Tag Archives: detox

A trip to detox

So promising

So promising

W and I went to rehab Monday night.  Well, actually, we just stuck detox patches on the bottom of our feet before going to sleep, so it’s nothing like that at all pretty much the same thing.

I’ve been waiting to use these patches since W stuffed them in my Christmas stocking but have been holding out for just the right toxin-loaded occasion.

Disclosure: The patches were on my Christmas list.  The mere thought of pairing sleep with having toxins purged from my toxin-riddled body was too good to pass up.  Much like sleeping and weight loss.  Sleeping and writing my memoir.  Sleeping and changing the litter boxes.  Or, sleeping and doing just about anything else for that matter.

When I had a bad migraine on Sunday that rolled into Monday and left me unable to function for most of the day, I decided that it was time to break out the detox patches.

I convinced W to wear the patches, too, just to make her feel silly see if her experience was any different from mine.  This is science after all.

The patches promise toxin removal, improved circulation and increased energy.  It is like reaping the benefits of sex without having any fun at all.

The theory is that the patches extract the toxins that have accumulated in our bodies from things like deadlines and pepperoni and Coca-Cola Zero and teenagers through the pressure points located on the bottom of our feet.  The pads contain exotic ingredients such as bamboo vinegar, dextrin, chitosan and powdered loquat leaves.  Oooh, loquat leaves.

As soon as I open the package, I notice an unpleasant smell.  I assume it’s the bamboo vinegar that’s making the pads smell like dirty feet even before we apply them to our feet.  The irony is not lost.

W sporting detox patch

W sporting detox patch prior to nocturnal activity

We place the pads on out feet before bedtime as per the package instructions and wait.  W reports post-application that her feet are starting to feel warm and tingly.

My feet start to tingle, too, because I am a giant copycat easily influenced by the suggestions of others.

Somehow, we are able to sleep despite all of the excitement and promise of invigoration and refreshment.  I dream that I am a giant Altoid, curiously strong and refreshing.

In the morning, W sits up and peels off her pads, complaining about the stickiness of the detox patch adhesive.  She folds the pads in two, tosses them in the garbage and takes a shower to wash her sticky feet.  She is not much for science.

I wake up with a headache.  A dull headache, but a headache nonetheless.  I do not feel cleansed, refreshed or energized.  I have a headache.  And I am grumpy because it is 6:20 in the morning.  My grumpiness toxin has not been purged.


My patches after a full night’s sleep

I peel off my patches and observe that they are dark.  And they stink.  The surface of the patch is gooey and slimy.  Some sort of scientific reaction happened last night.  I take pictures for documentation.

My feet are sticky from the adhesive, so I can’t wear socks or slippers.  I end up walking around the house in my bare feet and collecting cat hair and other detritus on the bottom of my feet.  Any toxin purification that occurred while I slept is nullified, because I now have actual, visible dirt and hair sticking to my feet.  My feet look like Chewbacca.

When W comes downstairs, I am still complaining about my headache.

She snips at me to make an appointment for acupuncture.  At this point, I’m starting to question whether she woke up cleansed and refreshed.

I snap back before she gets out the door.

After she leaves, I wonder whether the patches just stirred up our toxins instead of drawing them out of our bodies. Or, whether we are so loaded with toxins that we would have to wear these patches every night for the next 20 years to see a real difference.

Or, maybe we are just tired and overworked and prone to bouts of grumpiness and fatigue that can’t be cured overnight by sticking a stinky patch to the soles of our feet.

Part of me hates to give up the idea of too-good-to-be-true because then what do you have left?  Nothing but hard work and elbow grease, which is what got us here in the first place.

So, I’ll stash the remaining patches for a rainy day.  You never know.  They could come in handy.  I could always use them to remove the cat hair from the couches.