When I was a little kid, it was apple juice, which was pretty challenging, but by the end of the Lenten period my parents let me chug an entire quart of it so it seemed worth it to me. As I got older, teachers taught us to take a more conventional route; giving up things like chocolate, hamburgers, and soda. When I was in middle school and trying to act anti-everything with my girlfriends, we would purposely pick out things that didn't even matter just to be difficult and upset the teachers (Who ever heard of giving up prune juice for Lent? I did my whole eighth grade reflection for Mrs. Grace about this). But in highschool, one of my favorite religion sisters, Sister Liz Hathaway (who I feel so bad, hit a deer with her car and we didn't get our tests back for a whole week one time because of it) suggested to do something a little bit more spiritual then giving up Cheetos; rather than doing something like food, we should pick out a moral vice or physical indulgence and sacrifice that for the time period. So, from this point forward, I've secretly taken Sr. Liz's advice and have given up something like this every year whether or not others have actually known it; gossiping, reality television, making out with boys, and swearing are just a few examples.
My challenge this year? Cleavage (With the exception of my birthday outfit, that is). Whether you're religious or not, it's totally in right now to give up something, so why not? Below are my non-conventional fasting suggestions:
- Patron. You can drink other beverages, but you know that tequila always leads to bad things, so put the craziness on hold for the next month.
- Bloomingdales. For the entire Lenten period, you cannot go in, sale or otherwise. You'll just have to be a plebe and make friends with H&M.
- PerezHilton.com. Because how much time to you blow every day looking at where Khloe Kardashian took a poop? (and, frankly, I would never want to see that.)
- Drunk text-messaging. It could actually be a good thing and save you from a lot of embarrassment. Have a "safe" friend who you pass your phone off to after one a.m. every night.
- Dancing. If you're at a club and a guy asks you why you're not dancing, tell him you're a modern-day Puritan. At least you'll get your jollies.
- Talking smack. That fugly girl you work with? You're bitchy boss? Osama bin Laden? Nope, for the next forty days, you'll have to be Susie Sunshine.
- Booty calls. Unless you're in a monogamous relationship, you're going to be walking the next forty days in the path of a true celibate (This item often coincides with drunk text-messaging).
- Dining Out. Put your apron on, Paula Dean! With the economy being awful, this is the perfect way to save some money and still deprive yourself for some good ol' Lenten reflection. Just don't burn your house down.
- Paying With Credit Cards. Pay for everything with cash for the next forty days. Buying a house? A car? A down payment? It's all about the benjamins, baby.
Got any other great Lental ideas for fasting? Comment and let me know. In the meantime, I'll be seeing you all in turtle necks from this point forth. Hopefully I'll be able to find some that come in animal print.
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