Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Sunday, November 18, 2007 Lost Weekend
Marvin's been adopted. I confess that I considered getting him as a birthday surprise for Trash, claws and all, but someone else has snapped him up. You may or may not be reading about that in another person's blog at some point. Whether you do or not isn't up to me, but he's got a good home.
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Ever noticed how slow cat hair grows? Strat's ass-cancer surgery is almost two weeks behind him now, but that spot on his front leg and a large area of his bum are still quite bald.
This is what I found myself thinking of very early the other morning, when I half-awoke to find something alive, warm, and only partially hairy pressed against my face (kids, it's not the monster in the dark you have to fear; it's the recently shorn, stitched-up cat asses). I can't describe my relief upon realizing that the hair/skin combo actually belonged to M. Small. I've never been so glad he climbed in bed with us before in my life.
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I came to an upsetting realization about myself this weekend: I'm an involuntary slow bulimic.
This thought came to me yesterday morning, during my tenth bathroom trip of the bathroom as the half-glass of white grape juice I'd dared to drink a half hour before was coming back up again. I remembered how a couple of years ago, I'd had a bout of stomach flu or food poisoning (or so I'd thought at the time) that scooped out my insides and left me feeling as exhausted as if I'd run a marathon. Except instead of a normal marathon that you run with your feet, I had run this one with my esophagus and my sphincter.
And now here I was again, having spent most of Saturday morning in and out of the bathroom (mostly in) and ending up drained of energy to the point where I could barely maintain my bipedal form.
Coincidence? I had been thinking I'd been gaining a little weight, what with the book crunch-time and the attendant lack of exercise over the past several weeks. And now here I was, forcibly ejecting a good thirty pounds of water weight.
So is this a pattern for me? I binge for two years or so and then purge for a weekend? Granted, it's cheaper than a health club membership, but then how do you determine the monetary value of a lost weekend?
So I think this qualifies as an eating disorder. Clearly I need to find an involuntary slow bulimic support group. On the plus side, now that I'm feeling better, I have a couple of years before I have to get around to it.
It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the Mongolian barbecue I'd had the night before, right? posted by M. Giant 4:45 PM 4 comments
The problem with these involuntary slow bulimic episodes, or as they are known in my house: tummy flu, the problem as I say is you don't lose a pound. Three days of nothing going in and everything going out and I gain three pounds. This is contrary to the laws of physics, something about conservation of energy, and someone has a doctoral dissertation here. But not me.
Oh, now I feel bad that I had my mom adopt Marvin! I took it seriously that you couldn't have a clawed cat! Truly, though, she and my dad and sister are totally in love with him now.
Ugh, I had this recently. My condolences.
Please don't feel bad, Stephanie. We were serious about not getting a clawed cat. I'm glad to have the temptation removed, and even gladder that Marvin has a good home.