My Own Piss: Day Five

It is Day 5 of drinking My Own Piss™.

Mom, I got your texts. I am not actually “drinking [my] own URINE??!!!”

My Own Piss™, as I have affectionately called it, is a mixture of lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and purified water. Beyonce did it, Jared Leto does it like all the time, and now I will do it. I am doing it.

I am not doing this for my health. I’m doing it because I want to examine an extreme relationship between body and mind, and I have nothing else to do. So, like most dumb people, I waited to do in-depth research on this starvation practice until after I started it, just in case the “biological facts” skewed my experience.

Here are some things that I have found:

1. Nobody seems to think this is insane.

Or, at least the first few pages of Google do not think this is insane. I bring this up because I feel insane. Yesterday I had to leave in the middle of a pleasant social situation to drink My Own Piss™ because I was feeling weak. Excusing oneself to drink maple syrup water by oneself—that is what deranged people do. I am one of those people. This is my life now.

Contributors to these websites are at first cheerful, and then so innocent and disdainful when they suddenly realize they are starving themselves:

“I felt dizzy and hungry! I gained the weight back after I started eating again! This is awful!”

Yes, and it is science. What do these people think about during the day? They are constantly doing Pilates. They approach bowel movements with the intimacy and thoroughness of checking for ticks on a lovers’ body.

I found out that My Own Piss™ is an idea conceived in the 1940s by a man named Stanley Burroughs, who I imagine was the scorned, lonely son of the owner of a candy shop.

Last night I went to a wedding and pretended all the food was plastic.

2. I am not supposed to be drinking alcohol.


3. My tongue is turning a different color.

I didn’t realize this until Eduardo Sanchez, a Master Cleanse testifier from, shared, “My tongue is back to normal now, and quite pink.”

I stick out my tongue; it is gray with purple spots. I am reduced to a combination of childlike revery and blind fear. My emotions are very confusing right now.

I spend a lot of time at The logo of is a four-leaf clover? I imagine this is because a truly clean colon is like finding a four-leaf clover in a meadow—rare, a treasured moment, and everyone pretends to be happy for you but they don’t actually care that much.

4. At the end of the cleanse, I will be “surprised and horrified” by the waste I eliminate.

I can’t wait! I imagine an Alien scenario. The last time I was surprised and horrified by anything that came out of my body, I was thirteen years old. Perhaps this is really when I will become a woman.

5. Apparently I am supposed to be drinking an “herbal laxative tea.”

User “rogyn24” at says, “Drinking the herbal laxative tea was the best part!”

Rogyn24, I am sorry. I know I didn’t do anything to you, but I’m generally sorrowful when I imagine a life in which drinking herbal laxative tea is the “best part” of anything. What are the other best parts of things? If the best part of drinking My Own Piss™ is the herbal laxative tea that accompanies it, then the best part of sex is crying silently in the bathroom afterwards.

I’m sorry again. I am lashing out at you because I am hungry.

Anyway, the tea. I don’t dislike tea, but I will never actively seek out tea. I just can’t swallow the idea of going into a store and buying tea. So that’s ruled out. Tea is also one of those things that just sort of comes to you; you don’t have to go to great lengths to find tea. Calm, reasonable people often “make tea” at their houses, and people give you tea from their boring vacations.

For the record, I did wander into a CVS on the first day of My Own Piss™, vaguely remembering something about a laxative, but then I found myself next to the adult diapers, and Kylie Minogue was playing over the speakers. Suddenly I had to leave, because I was very sad. I forgot about the laxative.

Front page image by Juhan Sonin.

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