Oh man my guts.

Yeah, I missed a few days of fiber. I was eating chocolate cake with chocolate frosting:

Ignore the boxes in the background…they do not exist…stare into this light…don’t I have a pretty singing voice? For a fee I can come to your house and sing all day for you.

The coolest Habitrail EVER

Needless to say , because I lack all sense of self-control and I would fight anyone to the death who would try to stop me…I ate a big ol’ fat slice of cake…and it was good until it wasn’t any more.

After making myself nauseous, I never wanted to see cake again….for about five hours. Thankfully by then much of it was gone. So…no fiber, chocolate cake and….wait for it…cheesy hamburger.

A small animal of some sort is screeching and clawing its way through my intestines like  they’re a twisted, human Habitrail. Slowly. Very slowly.

What have we learned here children?

1. Chrissy is the worst kind of addict who will lie and fight for her drug of choice.
2. Cheese is both my lover and my worst enema…enemy.
3. My daughter and I bicker like two old women.

Lizz has begun karate (pronounced Kah-Rah-Tay by us cool people) and I used the time tonight during her lesson that I would normally use to crochet, draw or write to, instead, walk the dog and do some shopping. Even with the steady rain, I felt better for it afterward. Between the better food choices, even with the cheesy hamburger, things are moving along, in more ways than one.

I divulged in group today that this was the second day free of any purging. I have sporadically been using it to feel better. The logic being “It will help me lose weight“. This is the lie of the century….the scale didn’t move for one pound. So the pain of living like a junkie, coupled with the physical discomfort was all for naught. It’s all pretty insane. So what do I do with this new-found knowledge? I’m not quite sure, as I’m simply grateful for today. I’m praying tonight before sleeping and hope I do it again in the morning before rising. Becoming despondent over behavior is what got me into this mess. It certainly serves no purpose. Taking responsibility, however, allows me to change if I so choose.

Maybe these behaviors serve another purpose other than stress relieving…maybe they are a distraction to keep my eyes off the real issues? That was brought up in group and it hit hard. Maybe my self delusions have delusions?

It’s like the Russian nesting dolls, one nestled inside the other ad infinite. A living, breathing set of nesting dolls

I feel like the hamster on the wheel, now, with my brain racing…maybe it’s time for bed…but first, “I gotta go see a man about a dog“.

Finally.

I may need pain pills…and Lamaze breathing…hold me…Mother?