In search of magic beans

You remember that fairy tale about Jack and the beanstalk (I think it was called “The Guy With the Giant Gross Legume Plant”?), where Jack takes the family cow to market and sells it for some magic beans? And everyone’s like “OMG, you idiot, you’ve ruined us all!”, but it turns out the beans really are magic, and then somehow a giant is involved and I don’t remember what happens after that, but somehow Jack comes out a winner in the end? I think there’s a singing harp? And Jack steals the giant’s food, or the giant falls down the beanstalk and dies and they… eat him? Or something?

Anyway. Things work out for old Jack. It’s about the most fucked up moral to a fairy tale ever– make foolish, rash choices, murder a giant, steal his anthropomorphized harp and win big! Or, more specifically, when given a choice between a moderate, practical solution and magic beans, always choose magic beans.

A huge fan of children’s literature that advocates terrible life choices– hello, Giving Tree!– I have definitely taken this moral to heart. I never stop looking for the magic beans. Even though I’ve never found one that works.

Maybe I’m not giving them enough time. Or maybe I’m expecting too much. But really, Olly, if you’re going to promise me a gummy vitamin made of super foods, I’m gonna be pretty pissed after a few weeks if my skin isn’t glowing and I don’t wake up in the morning not feeling like I was beaten with baseball bats all night. And also, don’t call them super foods if they don’t grant me the gift of flight.

But I never stop trying. See, I’m all about working hard and sacrificing for my goals. But I’m also all about a pill or cream or juice that I can use as directed and then wake up in the morning in the body of a 25-year-old Heidi Klum.

Which is how I ended up with this $15 tower of detox teas:

It blends two of my very favorite things– rigid routines and unrealistic promises. I already had my first cup of the “all day” tea, which tasted of vanilla and dirt with mushroom undertones– a sure sign that this is totally going to work, since my rule of thumb is “the grosser it tastes, the more effective it is.”

So who knows– all scientific evidence points to detoxes being bullshit, so the likely outcome is that I will have consumed 42 very gross cups of tea for nothing. But there’s always a chance that I’ll flush all the toxins from my system and show up wrinkle free and sans eye bags and suddenly equipped with the power of telekinesis, then you’ll know I finally got my magic beans. And maybe committed gigantacide.

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