Alright, let’s talk about raw rhubarb. You hear folks talking about it, mostly for its, uh, “cleansing” properties, right? Like it’s some old-time secret weapon for when you’re feeling a bit… stuck.
Now, I’m not one for fads, but I had my own little dance with this stuff a while back. It wasn’t something I went looking for, mind you. It sort of found me, thanks to my Aunt Millie. She’s one of those who swears by remedies that have been in the family for generations, whether you want them or not. I was feeling generally sluggish, complaining a bit too much probably, and she showed up one day with this bunch of raw rhubarb stalks, looking all stern and knowing.
My “Practical Experience”
So, the “process,” as she called it, was brutally simple. No cooking, no fancy prep. She just chopped up a piece, a surprisingly large piece, I might add, and said, “Chew it well. It’s good for you.” She watched me like a hawk, so there was no escaping it. I remember thinking, “How bad can it be? It’s just a plant.” Famous last words, my friend.
I started chewing. The taste was… intense. Like a battery, but sour. My face must have been a picture. But Aunt Millie was there, nodding encouragingly, or maybe just making sure I didn’t spit it out. So, I got it down. The whole chunk. Swallowed it with a gulp of water and a prayer.
For about an hour, nothing. I thought, “Ha, overrated. I’m tougher than some old weed.” I even felt a bit smug. Then, things started to rumble. A gentle gurgle at first, then a bit more insistent. I was actually in the middle of trying to fix a leaky faucet in my bathroom at the time. I’d been putting it off for weeks, and finally, with that sour taste still in my mouth, I decided to tackle it. Bad timing. Very bad timing.
The “cleansing” effect they talk about? Understatement of the year. It wasn’t a gentle persuasion; it was more like a full-scale eviction notice, served with extreme prejudice. That leaky faucet? It stayed leaky for another day. I was, shall we say, otherwise engaged for the rest of the afternoon and a good part of the evening. My bathroom became my throne room, not by choice.
I remember thinking, “This is what she meant by ‘good for you’?” It was thorough, I’ll give it that. Too thorough. I felt like I’d been wrung out like an old dishcloth. I didn’t dare eat anything solid until the next day.
Why do I remember this so vividly? Well, apart from the, uh, dramatic effects, it was also the week my old car finally decided to give up the ghost. I was supposed to be out looking for a new one, or at least figuring out how to get to work. Instead, I was housebound, first by the rhubarb, then by the general feeling of being internally sandblasted. It was a proper comedy of errors, looking back. Me, trying to negotiate car deals over the phone while simultaneously wondering if I could make it through a test drive without an emergency pit stop.
So, that was my hands-on, or rather, insides-on, experience with raw rhubarb. It definitely has an effect. A very potent one. It’s not some gentle herbal tea, that’s for sure. It’s more like calling in the demolition crew when you just needed a light dusting.
Since then, if Aunt Millie offers me any “traditional remedies,” I ask a lot more questions. A lot. And I usually make sure my schedule is completely clear for the next 24 hours, just in case. You learn these things, don’t you? The hard way, usually.
