Do you ever have one of those off-the-wagon days with your eating habits - I mean really going off the deep end - and then decide to remedy it by purposely eating more and more terrible crap, so that you absolutely gross yourself out and therefore, in theory, won't act like such a fat kid the next day?
...No? Well I do. It's not an eating disorder, shut up.
Yesterday was one of those days for me. It started when I allowed myself to dunk ginger snaps in my coffee for breakfast. Hey, it was Sunday - why not? After that I polished off Annie's friend's uneaten pop tart after she left our house because she was vomiting with the flu. I was only halfway sure she had not touched it. For lunch we treated ourselves to takeout yumminess since we had a guest over. The hubs and I shared two flat bread pizzas. In other words, I ate a whole flat bread pizza. The rest of the day/evening went downhill from there, with my hunger only seeming to increase the more I fed it. After about a dozen visits to the pantry after dinner to stuff random things in my cheeks like a hibernating squirrel, I finally went upstairs and brushed my teeth to keep myself from doing any further damage to my kidneys. Needless to say, my plan to gross myself out was successful - I've got a pretty vicious food hangover today. I feel like a lethargic, bloated starfish, like I can't put my arms down or bring my legs together because I am retaining so much water (okay, food). I did check in the mirror, and thank God, I don't actually look like a starfish. I look like regular me, except I'm wearing a looser shirt than normal. But I feel disgusting, and my stomach is not speaking to me. Plus I hate this shirt. So it's back on the wagon for me today. Protien and produce, baby - that's it. I mean I only have a week to deprive myself in preparation Easter Sunday, that special time of year when I spiral out of control on ham and candy. Because nothing says "Happy Birthday, Jesus" like crouching in my closet emptying the contents of a bucketful of plastic eggs straight down my gullet. (Still not an eating disorder, get off my back!)
...No? Well I do. It's not an eating disorder, shut up.
Yesterday was one of those days for me. It started when I allowed myself to dunk ginger snaps in my coffee for breakfast. Hey, it was Sunday - why not? After that I polished off Annie's friend's uneaten pop tart after she left our house because she was vomiting with the flu. I was only halfway sure she had not touched it. For lunch we treated ourselves to takeout yumminess since we had a guest over. The hubs and I shared two flat bread pizzas. In other words, I ate a whole flat bread pizza. The rest of the day/evening went downhill from there, with my hunger only seeming to increase the more I fed it. After about a dozen visits to the pantry after dinner to stuff random things in my cheeks like a hibernating squirrel, I finally went upstairs and brushed my teeth to keep myself from doing any further damage to my kidneys. Needless to say, my plan to gross myself out was successful - I've got a pretty vicious food hangover today. I feel like a lethargic, bloated starfish, like I can't put my arms down or bring my legs together because I am retaining so much water (okay, food). I did check in the mirror, and thank God, I don't actually look like a starfish. I look like regular me, except I'm wearing a looser shirt than normal. But I feel disgusting, and my stomach is not speaking to me. Plus I hate this shirt. So it's back on the wagon for me today. Protien and produce, baby - that's it. I mean I only have a week to deprive myself in preparation Easter Sunday, that special time of year when I spiral out of control on ham and candy. Because nothing says "Happy Birthday, Jesus" like crouching in my closet emptying the contents of a bucketful of plastic eggs straight down my gullet. (Still not an eating disorder, get off my back!)
Crackin' a sista up! Seriously....skr8 crackin' boo!
ReplyDelete**This is Ansley by the way. It logged me in under a salon that I am doing some marketing for!**