Summer of 2014. Picture me. Fresh graduate of a Southern Illinois high school and soon to be Los Angeles transplant. An unfathomably thick angst clogged my arteries leaving me with a breathless anticipation that was only slightly less painful than coronary disease. While my LDL levels were fine, the plaque-y anxiety must have caused inadequate blood flow to my brain, as I played with the idea of renovation. My immediate post-graduation thoughts were screams demanding self-betterment—in the physical sense, of course.

I needed to lose ten pounds before college. I needed the quickest fix for any physical imperfection. Heck, I was about to be a Nutritional Science major. How could I be average and expect people to take me seriously? I needed Cassey Ho’s sculpted abs if I were to ever succeed in my dream of being a health expert.

Part of me saw the danger of this train of thought, but I ignored the whimpering objections of my conscience and purchased my first teatox. At this point, I had seen Insta post after Insta post of “fitspo” models touting the tea. They were flawless: tight waists, thighs chiseled to perfection, dainty hands casually clutching eco-friendly bags painted with words like “SKINNY” “BOO-TEA-FULL” “FIT”—A.K.A all I wanted! For only $39.95!! I kinda hated myself for my gullibility, but I had to test out this hype.

I completed my first two-week detox and was hooked. In addition to my morning and evening mugs, I cut out most dairies and all processed foods and increased my workouts to about two and a half hours daily. Was I dashing to the toilet every morning with cramps and other ungodly side effects? Yup. But in a few days I wasn’t bloated! I decided to overlook the toll it was taking on my digestive system and order an additional teatox.

And man-- my digestive system was a mess. This often happens with teatoxing because the mixes usually contain Senna leaf—an insanely strong laxative that is generally only prescribed to constipated elderly. It irritates the lining of your bowels so your body rejects it, “purifying” your system (Non-scientific speak—you poop a lot. But that doesn't sound as nice for marketing). The U.S. National Library of Medicine states that it is unsafe to take senna for longer than two weeks. I drank the teas for approximately six. Not only were the physical side effects atrocious (cramps, nausea, constipation, then actually nearly defecating yourself in the morning) but I was also steadily building a mental reliance on the tea. Obsessed with progress and terrified of mediocrity, detoxing rapidly drove me to an unhealthy body image. Why didn’t my body look like the fitspiration, twenty-pound transformation from their Insta? Was I boo-tea-ful yet? I was taking all the right steps but was never content. I was unaware that laxative abuse and incessant body criticism are both blazing red flags for an eating disorder.

After I finished my third round, I begrudgingly decided to stop once I moved into Pepperdine. It was shocking to move into the college culture where it seemed people really didn’t care what they put into their bodies. Apprehensively, I went out with my new friends to sushi. Then I would eat a donut when I wanted one. Then maybe two, if my soul so requested. It took baby steps and lots of time, but living with no tea and no scale eventually became blissful. I listened to my body, ate natural foods, and finally accepted my extra pounds, if that meant I could nom on the occasional Jack in the Box burrito.

In hindsight, I realize how much teatoxing made me hate my body. It made me think something about my body was poisonous, unclean, and needing purifying. It wrecked my digestive system and my self-confidence, and I immediately gained back any “water weight” I lost. The take-away here is simple: Teatoxing was a temporary solution to a deeper issue: a poor self-image.

So before you fork over $120 for your “dream bod” like I did, remember that there is no “quick fix” to physical and mental health and no amount of Instagram promoters can sell you self-love.