ISA WHA??

There's a new crash diet in town. And I'm all over it. All. Over. It.

Look - I've tried every diet there is. The nutrisystem deliveries? Revolting. Nutritionists? Evolved into whack-job emotional eating therapy sessions. One summer I tried the Montignac/GI Diet/Suzanne Somers thing with a friend of mine. After a month or so we agreed we'd never felt better; never had more energy; never enjoyed so much cheese. She looked tremendous. I couldn't do up my pants. And of course as any who know me know....I'm a Weight Watcher lifer - right down to the app on my iphone.

I know what you're thinking - obviously having been on every diet means that I....erm... needed to be on every diet. Not so. OK, maybe a little, but I was rolling along quite nicely until I got pregnant. Over and over and over again!

With each weekly WW meeting I figured out new and improved ways to beat the system. And then suddenly, the system stopped working for me. Or maybe I stopped following it....Either way, I'd reached that dreaded zone we never-say-diet-it's-a-lifestyler hates: The Plateau.

So when my dear friend told me she was going to do a "cleanse" I poo-poo'd her. Crash diet now, gain it back later. That's what I'd heard, read, studied. Belittling her efforts became a bit of a sport. What was she thinking?

Question is, after she lost 11 lbs in 11 days - what was I thinking? And when could I start?

September 8 was D-Day. After all, Labour Day's the new New Years, right?

Bring on the Isagenix.

My new mantra became shake, shake, meal. Breakfast and lunch are replaced with these shakes, followed by a "healthy" meal. And I must tell you the first day was brutal. BRUTAL. I was warned I might suffer a headache or two, but when I crawled under the covers, fully clothed, ice pack on my head and gel mask on my eyes, I thought I was in rehab. Turns out this cleanse was, in every sense, a detox. I also happened to have had a tetanus shot that morning. I can blame the shot. Or the lack of Diet Dr. Pepper. Either way, I was sure this was it. The end. The end of isagenix, and the end of my life.

But the sun rose again and I carried on. Shake, Shake, Meal. Shake, Shake, Meal. I ditched the gag-inducing Ionix (a Vitamin B liquid/motor oil that failed to get my engine running) and stuck to the shakes. I added a few pineapple chunks and a smattering of mango to the vanilla and I swear, it could've passed for a pina colada. Almost.

And then came cleanse day number one. The moment of truth. I shot back 4 ounces of the Cleanse for Life liquid and waited for the magic to happen. I had to do 4 glasses of the stuff which, while not completely vile, isn't something I'd ever savour. But whatever natural speed/appetite suppressant was in there was working. It was a breeze. So much so that I went for it and did another cleanse day the next day.

Now, if someone had told me I'd drink nothing but 16 ounces of some sort of aloe vera berry juice I'd have shown them the door and ordered Chinese, just to prove them wrong. But I did it. With only mild cheating. A couple of carrots here, a cuke or two there. And then there are the oddly compelling IsaSnacks. Strange little wafers that taste like chalk and yet.....become somewhere comforting when there's nothing else to chew.

And so it went....For 11 days.

I stepped on the scale, whipped out my measuring tape - supplied by the kind folks at Isagenix to prove their point - and....Lo and behold, I'd lost 10 lbs. And 18.5 inches. I don't know how. I don't know why. And to be honest - I don't care. I did get a bit nervous that there may be some sort of heart-attack inducing natural speed in there - but according to my trustworthy chiropractor - it's all good. In fact, he wants to start taking it now too!

It's no secret that the whole isagenix world is based on a pyramid scheme. Tho' I guess it's not a scheme if it works. But there's a shady feeling about the whole thing. And yet... I'm all over it. Hook, line and sinker. I don't miss my diet pops or my processed turkey sticks. I have a new-found appreciation for water, almonds, and tea. I know how evangelical I sound - ironic when you consider one of my many sidelines of work is writing inspirational blogsites - but when something works, it works.

Oh - and for those naysayers who wonder how much more I've gained back? I'm down another 3lbs . Schadenfreude - kiss my shrinking ass! Everybody else, hop on the IsaTrain - it's a sweet, clean ride.....

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION

Looks like summer is officially over. Tomorrow it's back to school. Back to carpool. Back to chauffeuring. Being a night-before stylist. An enforcer. A chef. And my fave - The Warden.

I had all these grandiose plans for the summer....

Seeing lots of movies. Check.

Exercising. Started off well.

Getting back to Bikram yoga. Got too tense - and had nothing to wear that wouldn't either constrict in the most unflattering of ways, or flip over my head and blind me if I bent over.

Writing a script. Did a rewrite... okay, a polish... of an existing project. But that kinda counts.

Spending lots of quality time with my kids. I extended their day camp. But we did hang out a lot at the cottage. And I took them to an amusement park by myself, went on loads of rides, ate as much junk as possible, went onstage during a clown performance, AND got stung by a bee and didn't cry. Yes, I am supermom.

I also saw how enlightening a summer can be, even when you're 1, 4 and 5-and-a-half years old. While my baby conquered walking and learned point instead of scream, my big boys picked up all kinds of other equally important stuff this summer.

They are now gaga masters (that's dodge ball for those of you out of this particular loop). They love archery. They can swim in the deep end and jump off diving boards. They pretty much know the entire Beatles catalogue by heart, and are counting down the days until Beatles Rockband arrives (-2. We pre-ordered). They've become terrific bikers, soccer players, and catchers. They can wield a tennis racquet with the best of 'em - and sometimes even hit the ball. Over the net. They know street names, directions, and how to do English accents. They appreciate the BBQ. They're not afraid of sunscreen, and they like wearing hats. Their phone manner and overall sportsmanship has improved tremendously.

And they can swear like sailors.

It started off innocently enough. Weiners. Balls. Butts 'n bums.

Jackass. Piss. Crap.

Stupid. Idiot. Stupid idiot.

And then shit happened. "Say shit"... "He said shit"... "You're a shit!"

Inevitably, they dropped the big bomb. The F-word cruised into our house on a barrel of laughs and blushing cheeks. Apparently, FUCK was one they learned here at home. From their father, God bless him. That they happened to pick it up only when off at camp and yet blame their dad amazes and amuses me. But it's here to stay (not that it ever left!) And joining the F-word is the B-word (Buck) and the C-word. Everyone gets a little shifty and nervous when they mention the C-word. But - get this - they think it's Cuck! And so it goes with every letter of the alphabet.

Except L.

The L word is Love. As noted by a 5.5 year old.

So while they stub their toes and scream fuuuuuuck like banshees, and call each other dicks, jackasses, and shits - but only "for pretend until school starts" - I take heart that the L word will stick around, even in grade 1.

Fucks, shits and pisses be damned.

Happy back-to-school... for those who go, those who drive, and those who remember!