This morning I woke up feeling relatively thin. Wasn't disgusted when I climbed into the shower. Told Hubs that it made me want to not eat.
See, anorexics don't like to eat because they know it will make their tummy "pooch." I knew that one bite of breakfast and the thin feeling would be over. Not that I'm anorexic. I love food too much. But I totally get the mindset.
So I ruined it with a donut and milk for breakfast, with a chaser of a frappuccino. And for lunch I had a cherry Pepsi (made with grenadine), chips and salsa, chips and espinaca, a Pepsi refill, and some fiesta nachos. (Couldn't let quatro de Mayo, the lesser known holiday, pass without my participation.)
And spent the next two hours trying to convince my husband that I really should go throw up. (He wouldn't let me. I think he knows that I'm continually on the edge of a disorder.) I thought I might explode. When I told my MIL that, she thought I had some exciting news come in on the email. No, I literally thought that if I didn't throw up, I would explode. Not figurative in the least.
Ugh. Still didn't want to eat tonight, but the growling stomach made me do it anyway. I hope this indigestion will soon go away.
Should have stuck with the anorexic tendencies of the AM, 'cause I'm paying for the denial of the inner crazy lady tonight.