Fire

I had to laugh this morning when I came across this picture on facebook.  It was humorless laughter, really, because that is exactly what I had done literally about 10 hours before.  It's an unfounded warning, at least for me.  

I had been rolling the idea of taking a laxative (or five) around in my head for a few days.  I know that, unless I actually need the laxative for its intended purpose, taking laxatives usually causes me pain.  
Intense pain.
But I do it anyway because FUCK I want to be thin!  But I couldn't do it because the last few days I've had too many Zumba classes to be able to afford the pain that usually comes along with taking stimulant laxatives when I don't actually need to.  I should have taken the Miralax then, right?  But I'm too stupid for that. So last night I took laxatives along with my sleeping pills (which is why that picture made me laugh mirthlessly this morning when I saw it first thing.)

I woke up this morning to Corky's alarm going off so he could try to get to the DMV before work.  I fell back asleep pretty quickly and had a dream that I can't remember now.  I woke up again about 25 minutes later and I swear to God my abdomen was on fire.  This burning, horrifying pain that literally made me break out in sweat.  I felt hot, feverish almost.  My stomach felt like it was being ripped apart with steak knives that had been soaking hot sauce for days.

The laxatives! my brain went.  It's the laxatives you stupid bitch!

You deserve it, whispered back my eating disorder.  You are weak and you deserve this pain.

All I could think was that it was a muscle thing.  I breathed in and out to the count of four, seemingly forever, until I finally must have fallen back asleep (or went unconscious) because the next thing I remember is waking up to a text from my friend and my stomach was fine.  

I would love to tell you that I am doing so great right now, but I can't tell you that.  I can't tell you it in either direction, the anorexic direction or the recovered direction (if that makes any sense at all.)  Anorexically speaking I'm doing horribly because I'm fat and disgusting and should be taken to slaughter like fat pig I am.  Recoveringly speaking I'm doing horribly (see previous sentence.)  It's awful!  I hate it!  Being caught in between those two places is the very worst place to be.

On a slightly more humorous note, the balloon saga continues!!!  A few months back (in the spring some time) I wrote about balloons that were appearing out of nowhere and coming near my person, scaring the daylights out of me as I am phobic of balloons.

Two or three weeks ago, Corky and I went to Red Robin for dinner.  We were sitting at a booth, talking about whatever, when suddenly, over Corky's shoulder, a horror scene started unfolding.  At the booth behind him was a man, a woman and a little girl in a high chair.  She couldn't have been more than 2 years old.  From somewhere under the table the mom produced a blue balloon.  She handed the balloon to the little girl who immediately started digging her nails into it.  

"NOPE!" I hollered, and was out of the booth and out the door in under 5 seconds.  In the end, I asked the hostess to reseat us.  She said, "is there a problem?"  I said, "yeah, I'm phobic of balloons and that little girl was playing with one."  Might as well be honest, right?  Lol!

But it gets better!

Today I went to drop an envelope off for our Real Estate Agent, K, at her office near my house.  The office is on the 5th floor of a building, and when you get off the elevators you can see right into the office because the whole front of it is glass with glass doors.  I saw balloons!  Everywhere!!!

Gingerly, I opened the door.  The balloons ran in front of my feet like huge bulbous mice.  Ugh!!!  I approached the front desk, handed the lady the envelope and I had to ask, "why are there balloons everywhere?"

"It's his birthday," she said, gesturing towards a glass-walled cubicle to the left.  It was the most terrifying thing I've ever seen.  Inside the cubicle was balloons.  Oh yeah, and a guy and a computer screen, but that's literally ALL of him you could see!  The rest was just solid latex balloons.  I nearly fainted at the idea of being inside that room!  "Oh!" I said.  "Gotta go!" and I ran out.  

That is the shit that nightmares are made of!  HONESTLY!  If I were the boss someplace and my workers did that to me, they'd all be fired.  End of story.