But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Binge Buddies! I have come to the conclusion that everyone needs an eating disorder buddy. It is the only way to truly accept this awful disease. Thank God for Tali. My mom had an appt. out of town, right around where my friend lives. We met, and had three hours to ourselves. Dangerous! First stop, the donut shop. We salivated in front of the screen, trying to find the perfect dozen for what seemed forever. As we got into the car we started devouring them as if we hadn't eaten in years, driving to the ice cream shop. I had already finished my six off by the time we got there. We walk in. I stare at all the flavors and finally decide on a chocolate malt. Tali gets a sunday. Mmmmm... Back in the car we go. Tali runs to the downstairs bathroom as I laugh my ass off. Too many laxatives in her system! Then upstairs she goes. I hear the water running. I patiently wait as I know she is throwing up. My food hasn't settled yet. I must wait for the perfect moment. Also, I have never puked anywhere besides my house, and I am doubting that it is possible. After she finishes, stomach totally flat, (I am so jeleous. Mine is starting to poof out) we try and catch her cat. She looks at me, sniffs my hand, and then won't come near me. Am I really that scary? After Tali runs back to the bathroom with the runs, onto the drugstore we go. I do believe this is the most obviously eating disordered purchase I have ever made. We stare at the laxatives like they are precious gold, looking for the perfect box. Bingo. Dulcolax. Then we turn to the diet pills, which, conveniently, are right across from the laxatives. Imagine that! What should we get? After looking at every bottle, reading all the things they promise, we settle on Metabolife. (Thank you Tali for sharing!) Our check out is hilarious. The old lady is helping the new cashier ring up our prices. "Can I see your ID?" "No, you need to pull it out of your wallet!" "Ugh, she's old enough." Can we get some cigarettes too? Out in the parking lot we burst into gales of laughter. This is so much fun! Uh oh. One of Tali's friends. Quick! She hands me her cigarette. I am now holding two! Realizing what a dork I look like, she takes it back. Her friend just talks to her for a few minutes and then says, "Call me sometime. I miss you counseling me." This sends me into another fit of laughter when we get in the car. It is hard to imagine us counseling anyone in our state of affairs. I am beginning to feel very nauseous. When we get back to the clinic my mom still isn't done. "Tali, I gotta puke." We go to the bathroom. Reluctantly, she agrees to guard the door for me. I'm scared, having never puked in a public place. I know I can trust her though. I lean over, stick my fingers down my throat, and, to my suprise, stuff actually starts coming up. "You are so quiet" she marvels. "Not usually" I say, "If I wasn't so scared I would put alot more effort into it." All that came up was a bit of my shake and soda. I wipe off the toilet seat which is now splattered with barf. Just then, an old lady walks in as I am walking out. She goes directly into my stall. This cracks me up! We leave and go sit in the waiting room. Tali fixes her ballet slippers. "I gotta go to the bathroom again." "Okay, lets go." We go, I try and puke, but only acid and a nasty donut taste come up. "Ugh! It's too late! Lets go outside and smoke?" So we do. We sit above the stairs in the parking garage, smoke, and debate about whether I would get caught if I puked on the stairs. After all, no one uses them. I look around. Too obvious. Back to the bathroom, no success. We walk out to my mom's car and I grab a soda. Just then, she comes out with her morbidly obese husband. Time to go! We hug, say our good-byes, and smile. This has been the best day ever. I fall asleep on the ride to Hometown Buffet, and am suprised that we stop here. My mom loads up her plate like she hasn't ever seen food in her life. I eat the cheese off a slice of pizza, a bite of sausage, some lettuce, 1/3 cup soft serve, and four bites of fruit. I think, "Does my mom usually eat this much when we come here?" She has a plate of pasta, some fried fish, salad, a bowl of bread pudding, a piece of cheesecake, a bowl of soft serve, a bowl of apple crisp, and then more bread pudding. I am usually so wrapped up in my binge I don't notice what other people eat. She is the last one eating. Before we leave she asks, "Does anyone need to use the restroom?" Um, no, we went twenty minutes ago! She dissapears to the bathroom. I think, "Could my mom be bulimic? No way." We drive back to town, stop at Vons, pick up milk, and come home. My mom says she is going to bed. I make an omelette and head for the computer. I just heard her barfing. Loud. Wonder if she did that on purpose? Whatever... She always said she could understand bulimia and not anorexia. Is this why? Goodnight all. I hope that you had as good of a day as I did. Take care of yourselves! *Dimstar 9:32 p.m. - 2003-02-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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