I drink a lot of water – but not enough, apparently.
(^Good indication you’re either drinking enough water or too much coffee.)
Truth is, if I had enough money, I’d probably get in the suggested three liters a day because I’d either buy out the Aquafina in the store (and be one of those parasites of the earth contributing to more of the plastic problem) or buy a reverse osmosis filtration system. That latter one’s a mouthful, but it’s really just a system you install to restore your shitty faucet water to a level of Fijian-esque pureness. Why not just do one of those store filters, stupid? Because even with a Brita filter, you don’t get out all the crap out from tap water. I’m not saying that because I have a sixth sense that detects it – but because I can smell the effing chlorine in Virginian agua post-filtration. And I’ve never been a big fan of ingesting pool cleaner.
That said, I may have to start either sacrificing finances or the planet.
Because this chick who followed the suggested ingestion amount for a month is making me rethink my aqueous priorities:
Bish just went from Marina Abromavic to Amelie in a mother-fluffing four weeks.
Ain’t nothing wrong with Marina, but she’s like – 67. And this chick looks closer to that even though she’s only 42. So she undertook the H2O challenge, noting the results along the way. Week one? Better digestion, fewer headaches, improved joint mobility. Week two? Better complexion and brighter eyes. Week three? Supple skin and the departing of dark circles beneath her peepers. I’m still not sure this pic hasn’t gone surgery compliments of Dr. Airbrush’s PhotoShoperation (#cynic). But seeing as these people have nothing to sell me other than what I need to survive, I’m less skeptical about the authenticity.
Especially when I’ve tried it before and know it works.
That’s the funny part. I know that drinking a ton of water is good for you, but I’ve never had an actual number figure that I’ve made myself go by. So, some days (which turn into a week, which turn into a month), if I haven’t kept track, I can fall behind. And then I end up feeling foggy and tubby while cursing Glob for the lavender colored bags under my islands of eyes in a sea of puffy flesh. For future reference, that number to reach is indeed 3 liters, which equates to this:
Ah, that’s why I “forget”. I know I want and require more.
This shit’s just really expensive.
Admittedly, I only consume half – and the other half goes into my coffee, soup, and tea.
Why would I do that? Because my tap water looks like milk and smells like a Holiday Inn. That’s hard to swallow – both literally and figuratively. Because after snooping around the interwebz a bit, I’m seeing how even my beloved Nestle’s and Aquafina have been found to simply fill their bottles with tap water. Granted they purify it beforehand – but are their purification methods any better than the one I bought at the store but stopped using? One fact I came across that’s pissed me off to the point of wanting to ban the bottle forever and break out that store filter was an analogy NatGeo made to the oh-so-expensive gasoline no one can ever afford:
“A gallon of gas costs around $3. If we assume a one-liter bottle of water from the store costs about $2.50, a gallon of the same bottled water should cost about $10. Water, life’s most necessary substance, costs about three times more than gasoline when it comes in a plastic bottle. If you wanted to fill up a car’s 15-gallon tank with gasoline, it would cost you about $45. If you wanted to fill up that same 15-gallon tank with bottled water, it would cost you $150”
Yes. Certainly puts a filter of perception on the filtered tap water I’m buying.
So, am I imagining that swimming pool scent in my faucet’s contents? Mayhaps I’ll do a little more research on the store filters. And if I come to find I’m indeed just having one of my ridiculous phobias that have morphed into an olfactory hallucination, then I’ll strike a happy medium: Break out the Brita for the coffee, tea, and soup. And save the bottles which don’t smell like a bikini so I can sextuple-fist ‘em daily – like this bish did before her face deflated and she re-winded ten years, Death Becomes Her style.
(And, natch, I’ll put the dollars from my three bottle difference toward a fancy filtration system).
Afterthought: Funny how general health wasn’t enough motivation for me – but vanity is.
#priorities