The premade juice fasts also incorporated something we hadn’t ever included before—the addition of fats. Each of the daily allotments of juice that the Portland shop’s program provided concluded with a nut milk, such as cashew or almond. After hemming and hawing about whether we should replace those with another green juice, we finally decided to bite the bullet and have the nut milk. At the time, we were both exercising—I was running and Mariann was doing Pilates. Though, during juice fasts, we exercised to a very minimal degree, since stamina was still an issue, we felt as though the fat would help increase our energy levels and make the exercise easier.
When we returned to New York City after our Portland adventure, juice had apparently taken over the city. Juice bars were everywhere and juice fast programs were suddenly all the rage. Though they were still very expensive, the fact that there was so much competition also meant that the prices were kept somewhat accessible. We were busy, it was easy, and so, since we had been spoiled with the premade juice fast program in Portland, we continued buying them (as opposed to making them). We still experienced the same benefits from juicing, and our lives became easier in that we no longer had to spend all that time making juices and cleaning the juicer (which, let me tell you, is not nothing).
In retrospect, I’m glad that I started off our juicing, for the first couple of years, solely making them, not buying them. It allowed me to become intimately involved with which fruit and veggie combos work and which don’t. I enjoyed the process, and I would recommend that anyone interested in juicing follow suit and make—not buy—the juices, at least at the beginning, if that’s feasible. But when our juicing evolved, when our bodies evolved, and when our workload evolved—and we started to buy programs rather than making the juices ourselves—I embraced that as the next step for us.
Yet another evolution for our juicing was in store for us. About a year after returning to New York City from Portland, we began to incorporate blended smoothies into our juice fasts as well (made with a blender as opposed to a juicer). The main difference between juices and smoothies is that smoothies keep the fiber intact, whereas juices extract all the fiber. I have personally found that I have greater success with weight loss when I am consuming only juices as opposed to smoothies, but by the time I started incorporating smoothies into my diet as opposed to just juice, weight loss was no longer my primary goal. For me, the benefits of consuming smoothies were still strong—giving myself a break emotionally and physically, and having a distinct period of time when I was consuming a significant amount of vegetables and fruit. Plus, making smoothies was much easier than making juices. It was something we could quickly do ourselves, and it was more cost-effective than juicing because it required less food to make a substantial and healthful smoothie.
Although my juice regimen changed as my goals did, the basic gist of it remained the same—and, like any other relationship, we evolved together.
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So why do juice fasts work? Or should I say, why do they work for me? Well, physically speaking, part of the reason I lost weight from them was for the simple reason that they restrict calories. Ignoring that fact would be ridiculous (and yet I feel that a lot of the marketing material about juicing does choose to ignore it). Given this caloric restriction, weight loss is kind of inevitable on a juice fast, at least if you make the juices heavy on greens and you don’t add in highly caloric nut milks. (And not to state the obvious, but if you go straight back to your old, crappy eating habits after that last glass of juice, you’ll certainly gain it back.)
But aside from the calorie restriction, a big part of the reason I found juice fasting to be so successful was because weight loss was just one tiny part of the benefit I reaped from it. Each juice fast I did became a way to get closer to myself, to have more time in my head to explore the reasons I had been betrayed by the food system in the first place, and to remain present in the enormous physical change I was undergoing. Plus, having the fasts mapped out on my calendar—always having the next one to look forward to—meant that it was an ongoing process, and I was (and remain) committed to that process.
It was a mix of juice fasting regularly, combined with eating a largely whole-foods-based diet during the times I wasn’t juicing, that resulted in my near-one-hundred-pound weight loss—which took a total of two and a half years, with the first seventy-five pounds coming off during the first year. After the initial fast, I was down eleven pounds. The subsequent juice fasts also pushed my weight down—at first with relatively large losses (nine pounds, or seven)—and then, eventually, as I had less weight to lose, with smaller weight losses (such as five pounds).
It is also inevitable that after the juice fast is over, once you start eating again, you will naturally put on a couple of pounds due to the fact that, when you are digesting real food, some of it, including all the fiber, will always be in your colon, on its way to becoming poop. That stuff weighs something. Except for those tiny gains after each juice fast, the overall trajectory of my weight continued to go down. The times when I was eating food did not usually result in any kind of substantial weight loss; it was more a way to maintain my health and not let addictive, processed foods become my normal. The bulk of the weight loss always happened during the fasts. Most important, though, is that if I hadn’t eaten consciously and healthfully during the in-between times, I would have put the weight back on. Doing these things together—juicing and eating really well—were a winning combination for me.
All of this said, I actually don’t think that juice fasts necessarily work for everyone. Many people who struggle with disordered eating or a history thereof, for example, might find that they are triggered by what appears to be the rigid restriction of a juice fast. And juice fasts are not always recommended for people who struggle with health issues such as diabetes, or who have kidney disease or are undergoing chemotherapy, or perhaps other health problems as well that I am unaware of.
And many people are simply too freaked out to wrap their heads around doing a juice fast. It sounds too radical to them to exist solely on juice, even for a limited amount of time. Although I would strongly encourage people who feel that way, and who don’t suffer from problems that would contraindicate it, to commit to trying it anyway (for at least three days—because doing a one-day juice fast is very hard, since you’re detoxing that whole day), I also understand that juicing is not for everybody. Some people try a modified juice regimen—having juice for most of the day, then having a vegetable-centric dinner at night, while avoiding toxins and stimulants like caffeine and alcohol. I will reiterate that if you start with an amended juice fast as opposed to a full-on juice fast, it will be that much more difficult to do a full-on juice fast in the future.
For me and for Mariann, juicing was absolutely the key to sustained and easy-to-reach health, optimal weight, and the overall balance I had been seeking for so many years. And to think, all of that was able to fit into one simple mason jar. Sometimes the answers are so incredibly obvious. We just have to take the first sip.
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What was crucial to both losing the weight and, afterward, maintaining my weight loss and my health wound up being a mixture of my intermittent juice fasting and following a mostly whole-foods-based eating regimen. For me, one could not have existed without the other. If I had continued to eat high-fat, processed foods in between my juice fasts, I would have inevitably put my weight back on in between each cleanse. And had I not juice fasted as part of my whole-foods-based diet, the cravings—both emotionally and physically triggered ones—would have crept back into my life, and my imbalanced eating would have eventually resumed. For me, this pairing of juicing with whole-foods-based eating was the recipe for success, balance, happiness, and optimal health.
I began to crave and eat all I wanted of the widest array of plant-based whole foods you could imagine: leafy greens like kale, collards, and mustard greens; root vegetables like sweet potatoes and carro
ts; beans like chickpeas, mung, black, and pinto (and bean-derived foods like tofu and tempeh); whole grains like quinoa, amaranth, millet, and oats (though, sadly, I gain weight so easily that I find it helps me to limit the grains); and small amounts of healthy fats like almonds, avocados, and nut butters.
One of my first major purchases to support this new way of eating was a Vitamix super-high-powered blender. For dessert, I would regularly blend frozen fruit—cherries are my personal favorite—and make a healthy, satisfying, one-ingredient soft serve. I tried, and soon learned to love, Mariann’s go-to morning drink of unsweetened cocoa (chocolate happens to be full of antioxidants) mixed with hot water. It’s delicious (no, seriously, it is—I don’t understand why no one else likes it!), and it satisfies my longings for chocolate (some cravings you never get rid of). I became adept at ordering at restaurants. Chinese and some other Asian cuisines were particularly easy. I became a fan of steamed tofu and broccoli with brown rice.
In order to make those simple meals a bit more palatable, but no less healthy, I would add nutritional yeast, which, yes, I carried around in my purse. This terribly named vegan staple (I prefer to use its nickname, “Nooch”) is actually absolutely scrumptious, and adds a cheeselike depth to any vegetable dish.
And, just like that, the pounds stayed off, and, with each juice fast, more pounds began to melt off. Perhaps the greatest miracle of all was that one of my biggest fears, of feeling as though I had to limit what I consumed—that I had to deprive myself—turned out to be bogus. My appetite had always been, to say the least, hefty, and the fact is, I’m not sure that really changed with my newfound way of eating. I have always loved to eat heaping portions, and I still do. But instead of consuming heavy, oily, processed foods, I changed my “normal” foods to vegetables, beans, and fruits—and I could suddenly eat pretty much as large a portion as I wanted without the weight coming back on. Portion control (or attempts at portion control that inevitably failed) was over.
What was more, my tastes and cravings followed suit. Much to even my own complete shock, for the first time in my life, I did not feel deprived. Sure, sometimes I wanted cupcakes and bagels, but I didn’t crave them unendingly. I knew that having my cake and eating it, too, was indeed a possibility, and that I didn’t have to wrestle with whether or not I would want a second, third, or fourth slice. I was in charge of whether I ate these foods or not. Miraculously, they didn’t own me anymore.
I also started to rely less on takeout and started to cook a little. I like to think that I developed into a creative and curious cook—though I never followed complicated recipes. Most of the dishes I made were prepared on the stove, from simple ingredients that were on hand. Some of these Jasmin specialties, as Mariann will attest, were more successful than others. But none of them were actually bad. Simple food is actually pretty hard to ruin, and pretty easy to master.
I traded in sautéing in oil for easy, water-based sautés (I know this is shocking, but it actually works). I put vegetables at the center of my plate and explored health-promoting sauces and gravies that were flavorful and umami rich (in other words, savory and substantial). I loved topping simple veggie and bean dishes with various versions of the easy blended sauces in Christy Morgan’s cookbook, Blissful Bites, which focuses largely on mixing things like miso, “Nooch,” tahini, and sometimes a bit of maple syrup for sweetness.
My meals were colorful and filling and full of phytonutrients and antioxidants. If I wasn’t full after eating, I had more. I found that I could eat all I wanted and not worry about packing on the pounds. In fact, by putting unprocessed, whole foods at the center of my plate—combined with my intermittent juice fasts (which evolved to include blended smoothies)—I lost weight without even thinking about it. And, all the while, my dishes were delicious and satisfying. Instead of counting calories or points, I counted the happy moans and proclamations of “delicious!” uttered by those I fed—like Mariann, who became a big fan of my (uncomplicated, instinctual) cooking.
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The next time I went for a physical was the following summer, after first beginning my juice fasts. Two weeks after my appointment—on August 18, 2011—I returned for my test results. My unexcitable doctor told me to have a seat. There was a Diet Coke on his desk, which he intermittently sipped as he stared at my test results on his computer.
My triglycerides were optimal at 108, he reported, and my weight was already down by nearly seventy-five pounds. I sat motionless and quietly asked him to please repeat my triglyceride level. He did, informing me that I had a “clean bill of health.” For several seconds, I didn’t utter a word. Finally, my doctor looked up from his computer—for the first time since I’d walked in—and asked if I was okay. I nodded furiously, trying but failing to hide the tears that surfaced. I had obviously already known that I’d lost the weight, but what became evident to me at that moment was all that I had gained—namely, a sense of control and, literally, a new lease on life. “Yes, I am okay,” I finally said, meaning it like never before.
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None of this is to say that I was (or am) “perfect” in my new, healthy habits. And none of this is to say that I didn’t (and don’t) still enjoy a good cupcake (or vegan bologna sandwich) every now and again. But making the basis of my diet unprocessed whole foods, and eating them abundantly and unapologetically, shifted my desires permanently, and—for the first time—my eating, and my mind-set about my eating, was under control. Being vegan, eating healthfully, and juice fasting intermittently is my key to remaining thin, healthy, satisfied, and joyous. My life is by no means about deprivation—it is about abundance, pure and simple.
They say the proof is in the pudding. In my case, that pudding was made out of tofu and sweetened only moderately with dates. But just like success, balance, and good health—there was nothing more delicious.
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Though I didn’t think of it at the time, the fact that I went vegan before I ever tried to clean up my diet for real actually helped me a lot, since eliminating animal products was one extra hurdle I didn’t have to jump when I started juicing and eating whole foods. My first transition—the one to veganism—was made much easier by simply replacing the foods I was used to eating with the plant-based alternatives. But while the vegan versions of traditionally animal-based foods are still healthier, and certainly much more compassionate, than their animal-based counterparts, vegan sausages (you can’t beat Field Roast), vegan bologna, vegan cheese (I know what you’re thinking, but vegan cheese has really come around in recent years), and vegan ice cream (there are way too many to name—but I’m a fan of So Delicious’s coconut-based version) are hardly “health foods.”
The transition from junk food vegan to healthy eating wasn’t automatic. Just as there was a time when I would have decried the idea of leaving meat off the plate, after going vegan I was sure that leaving off the meat replacement—the plant-based alternative—was simply masochistic. The same held true for the oily, processed foods that made up the bulk of my every meal (fried spring rolls, heavy pastas, heaping portions of rich Indian foods, French fries, New York bagels with two inches of Tofutti cream cheese) as well as the decadent, sugary desserts that I was addicted to (several slices of Peanut Butter Bomb cake, a box of gooey fudge, a bag of chocolate chips, a row of Oreos—which, yep, are vegan).
The good news here is that there is an alternative to literally every single kind of animal product out there—including those central to the Standard American Diet—so anyone claiming that veganism is about deprivation should think again. And, I’d argue, a vegan junk food diet is still a thousand times healthier than a meat-based one—since even the most “sinful” vegan food doesn’t carry nearly as great a risk of causing disease as does a junk food diet that is saturated with animal-derived foods—especially if we’re talking about heart disease. Like lots of things, if vegan junk foods are consumed in moderation, and consciously—as opposed to bei
ng mindlessly shoveled down your throat as if you were in a (vegan) hot dog eating contest—they are not only harmless, but they’re pretty fantastic. However, as is typical for addicts, I had taken them to an extreme, and what should have probably been my “sometimes” foods became my “every time” foods.
Thus, as I proved all too well, it is more than possible to be an unhealthy vegan. It is possible, in fact, to be an obese vegan. And it is certainly possible to be a vegan with triglyceride levels that are a cause for concern.
But vegans don’t have heart disease! one may think. Au contraire. An imbalanced diet is an imbalanced diet—and even veganism didn’t cure my unhealthy mind-set around food. I had simply replaced a diet heavy in processed junk foods with the vegan versions of those processed junk foods—all the while feeling virtuous, because no animals were harmed in the making of my meal.
It wasn’t until I took the next step and started to flood out these “transition foods” with an abundance of cooked and raw vegetables with scrumptious sauces, whole grains (the darker, the more nutritious), beans (which are also budget friendly), and healthy fats like nuts, seeds, and avocados that I really started to get healthy.
There’s another reason that going vegan first, and only later focusing on health, was the right thing for me. Going vegan proved to me, without any shadow of a doubt, that food is indeed the most personal political act there is. And personal politics begins with what (and whom) we consume. I myself needed to wake up to the horror of animal production, and refuse to look away—looking away would have been the easier thing to do. I had to see what that kind of blindness was doing to me on a foundational level—how it was making me live my own life with some degree of blindness toward my own personal issues. And though I went vegan long before I reclaimed my health, the final piece for me was transitioning my diet from junk food vegan to whole-foods-based vegan (with occasional dips into the delicious world of seitan piccata). I needed addiction out of my life, and, for me, that meant going back to basics.
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