Earlier today I asked the guy at the juice bar for a recommendation and he said, “The Mean Green is what i’d recommend if you’re feeling low on nutrients.”
Well, heck yeah, I’m low on nutrients. My diet could certainly be better and I never can remember my multivitamin. Strangely, though, I never forget my coffee. He didn’t peg me as caffeine-deficient. This guy was good.
“It’s a super pick-me-up that’ll leave you feeling great!” he promised. With a smile. And sincerity.
I needed to feel great. The night before I enjoyed the company of several friends and three glasses of wine. I wasn’t hungover but low on nutrients? Definitely.
Mean Green juice consists of kale (which I don’t eat, so why, oh, lord, why, would I drink it?), cucumber, celery, lemons, and apples.
“It has a nice, lemony finish to it that hides the taste of the greens,” said the affable, juice-toting hipster. Still, without any trace of sarcasm.
Um, why am I drinking green juice if i want to HIDE the taste of the greens? That’s like attempting to hide a brachiosaurus behind a bicycle.
It was bitter. And earthy. And it tasted immensely of celery. But dammit if there wasn’t a lemony finish.
In the same way you have to treat a salty/soapy colonoscopy prep drink like a shooter, I guzzled the green juice. Blergh. Healthy it may be, but I might as well have been drinking my front yard.
And that’s not even the worst part. I didn’t have to drink the stuff. But I did. You know why? Because it cost six freaking dollars and fifty cents, before the tip.
And now, here I sit. Feeling worse, not better. All because I wanted a quick fix. I wanted to erase wine with kale. Just like I want to lose weight by watching Project Runway. And that? Not working out so well.
But what if the green juice had worked? What if it did “pick me up?” What if a mere glass of the miracle juice restored my misspent health? That $6.50 would suddenly seem like a bargain. And me and the juice hipster? Would have become fast friends during my daily, if pricey, visits to the juice bar.