As for the pesky issue of having to drink 24 ounces of water before bed? No problem I just steeped all three bags in one cup. While the rational explanation might be that it was stomach cancer after all, I persevered, deciding that if one bag was mildly effective, all three types of tea combined must be triply effective. And, once again, another day, another drought. I refused to give into the shining pink beacon of Pepto-Bismol on my bathroom counter. This time, I went all in, ordering not one but two extra-spicy dishes of rogan josh from the local Indian place. Touting an “ancient Chinese-American recipe” from California, it assured me that both my physical and mental well-being would be significantly enhanced by its faux-mystical healing properties. Once again, the wait was for naught the following morning’s results were even less offensive than the night prior, and the dull ache in my lower abs (fine, upper vag) was still present.Ī utilitarian third box promised the no-nonsense toughness that my earlier two teas had largely sidestepped. While it had only 1,010 milligrams of senna, it did boast over 1,100 milligrams of herbs my mother often overloads in Indian food - coriander root, star anise, cinnamon bark - Asia’s purest diuretic. Undeterred, I moved on to a mint-scented “gentle laxative” the following night that promised to help me Get Regular. There were no ruined sweatpants or sheets my toilet bowl still gleamed. I settled into bed, making sure no blankets would impede a mad dash to the bathroom. Don’t do it.”Īlready unmarriageable to begin with, I brewed a cup of Smooth Move chamomile, boasting a whopping 1,080 milligrams of senna leaf, which promised to “generally a bowel movement in six to twelve hours.” Its woody floral taste was a pleasant surprise and made for an easy drink, even if it did little to decrease my trepidation. “And even then, wear sweatpants.” Another suggested sleeping in the bathroom entirely because, “it’s just that strong.” A third sent back perhaps the most ominous warning of all: “Smooth Move tea ruined my wedding night. “Do NOT take it before bed if you’re an extremely heavy sleeper,” cautioned one friend. More than one friend had looked at me in wide-eyed terror as they scream-whispered that Smooth Move was the holy grail of laxative teas. But, like me, if all you want is to dislodge a bullet, a senna-tea-induced muscle spasm is a fairly safe bet. Though laxative teas do help you drop a few immediate pounds, the actual “detox” aspects are murky at best all you’re losing from your small intestine is undigested water and oil - the dreaded “water weight.” The rest of your toxins have been long absorbed before they even reach the small intestine. The most common laxative teas contain copious amounts of senna root, which works along the same general principles of toothpaste management: The sennosides irritate your colon just enough to get it contracting again to squeeze the, er, backlog out. While the Kardashians and lesser reality stars have made detox teas like Fit Tee and Bootea the celebrity shill du jour, herbal laxative teas have been kicking around the wellness aisles for far longer, intended primarily for clogged pipes rather than meaningful weight loss. Too young to die, too proud to take Metamucil, I instead turned to the earthbound gaia’s designated cure-all: laxative teas. Having only ever referred to constipation as a punch line, I first devoted lucrative amounts of time trying to convince my gynecologist I had stomach cancer. But somewhere around the time Chipotle started offering a burrito-rewards program, my body began retaliating. But of all my oft-used, under-thought clichés, one I never expected to directly confront was “shitting the bed.” Or, in this case, “shitting the leather seat of an airplane in the middle of first class.”įor the first 28 years of my life, I was able to excavate my bowels like clockwork. Dumpster fires have become such a common refrain, I fear a nation of amateur firemen wouldn’t know what to do if their cubicle trashcan lit aflame drinking the Kool-Aid, when you think about it, doesn’t sound half bad. The problem with clichés isn’t just that they’re lazy, it’s that we tend to forget the original meaning.
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