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The cleanse began the following morning with a bright orange drink that contained eight thousand carrots and all of the ginger in the world. Okay, I exaggerate. It was more like seven thousand carrots and just half of the ginger in all the world. As I finished the drink, I had just one thought. It was this: “I’m still hungry.”

The cleanse continued two hours later with a very green looking concoction that, no doubt, killed every budding cancer cell in my body. Then for lunch came gazpacho juice that, amazingly, tasted just like the real thing. It left me with one thought, “Why not have the real thing? Why oh why?”

Then came another very green drink and then a very orange one followed by a very red one.

You get the idea.

We went on like this for almost three days, breaking the cleanse early because there were no green, orange or red vegetables left in our kitchen or even at the grocery store. My husband had cleaned out the entire produce section, buying everything available and feeding it into our juicer. (Okay, sure, I exaggerate, yet again. He could have bought a radish if he’d wanted to. He didn’t want to. Plus, we were out of money.)

It was after we broke the cleanse that I realized the deep, deep connections between juicing and the rare art of staying in love.

Sometimes You Assume Love Will Stink, And Then It Doesn’t.

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