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The serving size is 2 shots of wheatgrass juice; I promptly thawed four. I left my couch-rest only to attend therapy and procure the lawn clippings pictured above. I was unable to locate fresh wheatgrass  juice, and as I live in a city and have no lawn or space in which to cultivate my own grain (is it a grain? I’ll have to ask Dr. Google), I went for second best, the flash frozen, pre-measured shots. Something tells me I’d enjoy the “shot” a little more if it was poured by a hottie at a swim-up  tiki bar and accompanied by a yummy frosty adult beverage with an umbrella. Alas, I will settle for a chaser of D.HEA and a few other shots of hormones directly to the gut.

For dessert

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Just one little glass. The ovaries were so sad without it.

I know that a last ditch shot (or 4) of lawn clippings isn’t going to be the miracle savior of this cycle, but my desperation is a palpable, and it tastes like your backyard.

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