That Time I Tried to ‘Eat Clean’ and Accidentally Invented a Smoothie That Tasted Like Regret

It was January. I was full of ambition, bloat, and Pinterest quotes. You know the vibe—"New Year, New Me" energy mixed with a little "I just Googled how to detox my spleen."

Somehow, I found myself sucked into the glossy vortex of clean eating. Everyone online seemed to be thriving on greens, seeds, and foods that look like they’ve been touched by woodland elves.

So I thought: What could possibly go wrong?

A lot.

A lot could go wrong.

Starting with my blender.

And ending with a smoothie that tasted like wet sadness and betrayal.

Let’s talk about it.

Step 1: The Shopping Spree of Shame

I entered the health food store like someone on a spiritual quest. I didn’t have a list—I had a vague feeling and $47 to ruin.

I bought:

Kale (duh)

Chia seeds (they look like trust issues)

Almond butter (expensive peanut butter in disguise)

Spirulina (it smells like a fish made a bad decision)

A weird grain called “quinoa” that I still pronounce “kwi-noah” in my head

I also bought coconut water, which tastes like regular water after it’s been filtered through someone’s gym sock.

But I was committed.

I was cleansing.

Step 2: My First Clean Breakfast (Also Known As Chewing Regret)

I woke up ready to glow. I made overnight oats with almond milk, chia seeds, and a prayer.

They looked amazing in the photo I took.

They tasted like wet cardboard sprinkled with guilt.

But I ate it. I smiled. I said, “This is so good” out loud to absolutely no one, which is a classic sign of nutritional delusion.

Step 3: The Smoothie Incident

This was the moment everything fell apart.

I had seen a reel that said:

“This green smoothie will CHANGE your life! Just add kale, banana, almond butter, flaxseeds, spirulina, coconut water, avocado, and a handful of dreams.”

So I did.

I added it all.

I blended it.

I poured it into a mason jar because aesthetic.

I even put a paper straw in it, like a responsible citizen of Clean-Eating Nation.

Then I tasted it.

It was like licking a pond.

Not a fresh, babbling brook. No.

A murky, algae-filled, slightly haunted pond.

It was thick. It was warm (WHY?), and it had the aftertaste of someone else’s disappointment.

I stared at it for a full minute, trying to figure out if it was drinkable or if I had just created a biological weapon.

Then I drank it anyway.

Because I had already committed. And also because almond butter is $11 a jar and I don’t waste that kind of money without consequences.

Step 4: The Midday Breakdown (Featuring a Muffin)

By lunchtime, I was starving.

And not like, “oh I could eat.”

Like, “I am going to eat the air freshener if I don’t get a real carb soon.”

I tried to hold out. I ate a handful of raw almonds and pretended they were satisfying.

They were not.

Eventually, I caved and walked to the café down the street, where I bought a muffin the size of my face and ate it with the joy of someone who had escaped a flavorless cult.

Was it clean?

No.

Was it necessary?

Absolutely.

Step 5: A Brief Existential Crisis in the Produce Aisle

Later that day, I returned to the grocery store to "try again." Clean eating, I thought, was just a matter of finding the right clean things. Maybe I started too hard. Too spirulina.

But as I stood in the produce aisle holding a spaghetti squash in one hand and a bag of baby carrots in the other, I thought: Is this who I am now?

Do I want to spend 45 minutes turning vegetables into zoodles just so I can say I’ve “reset my gut biome”?

And what is a gut biome anyway?

Can I reset it with mac and cheese?

As I stood there spiraling, a toddler walked by holding a cookie the size of a steering wheel. I swear he looked me dead in the eyes like, “Run while you still can.”

I did not buy the squash.

Step 6: Acceptance (And a Toasted Cheese Sandwich)

The next morning, I woke up with a new mindset.

Clean eating is fine. It’s good, even. But only if it:

Doesn’t make me cry into a bowl of kale

Doesn’t involve powders that smell like sadness

Doesn’t make me feel like I’m in trouble for being hungry

So I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich with love and zero shame.

And guess what? I still felt great.

I added a few spinach leaves to feel balanced. They didn’t fight me on it. We made peace.

What I Learned From Eating Clean (and Failing Dirty)

Healthy doesn’t mean joyless.

You’re allowed to nourish your body and your tastebuds. If your food makes you cry a little on the inside, it’s not a lifestyle—it’s a warning sign.

Instagram is not a doctor.

Just because someone with perfect lighting and a juicer says spirulina changed their life doesn’t mean it has to change yours. Maybe you're more of a smoothie-with-peanut-butter-and-zero-kale person.

Balance > Perfection.

A handful of carrots and a cookie can coexist. This is the kind of peace that nutrition labels can’t teach you.

There is no shame in knowing what your body hates.

Mine hates spirulina. And possibly quinoa, but that trial is still pending.

Would I Eat Clean Again?

Yes.

But in a way that makes sense for me. With more flavor, less pressure, and absolutely no smoothies that smell like aquarium gravel.

Because food isn’t just fuel—it’s comfort, it’s culture, it’s joy.

And honestly? I can love myself without having to love chia pudding.