The wonders of a juicing machine. Since I got my juicing machine, I have been feeling in tip top health. No, it is not because of the health benefits of the fresh vegetable juice I've been drinking. It's because of a drastic reduction in stress which I've undergone since I began using my juicing machine, a reduction in stress brought on by no longer undergoing a certain painful financial burden: the purchasing of fresh juice in restaurants. I mean, how could they exploit my helplessness, my addiction to the crisp, sweet, earthy flavors of fresh vegetable juice, charging as much as 5 bucks to run a few carrots, a stalk of celery, and an apple through some industrial juicer? How could they put healthfulness at such a premium, once I have become its helpless thrall. In many ways I am not that health-conscious, but I really simply cannot resist fresh juice. I grew up without a juicing machine, in a family which thought “made with real fruit juice” on a label of glorified sugar water meant that they were, somehow, adequately nourishing their young. I believed that “diet” written on my soda, meant that it was good for me, and was sincerely shocked when, at the age of fourteen, I looked at the back of the bottle and discovered that it contained no nutritional content. As any health fanatic might predict from this description of my upbringing, I was not the healthiest of children. I was moody, distracted, had serious problems with attention and concentration. As I hit adolescence, my complexion became a site to behold. The craters on my face were so massive that once NASA sent an explorer probe to its surface. That is until, at the age of 14, I had my first girlfriend, one who changed my life. She was a health nut, and practically lived off of her juicing machine. She drank 3 cups a day of mixed vegetable concoction. Raw beet, spinach, carrot, apple, celery. All mixed up and poured straight down the gullet. I was so socially crippled by my severe acne, that she made me a promise – eat what she told me to, and drink three glasses a day of vegetables from her juicing machine and, within a month, my complexion would clear up. I was more than willing to take her bet because I had nothing to lose, and because it gave me an excuse to spend more time at her house. She was right, but her time line was a little off; I looked dramatically better in a week.