Skip to main content

The Allure of Bulimia

I already know that the title of this post is going to piss some people off, but I really don't have any other way to phrase it than how I did. Stick with me and you'll see what I mean.

First off...I understand that eating disorders are serious. I am in no way attempting to be-little them or make light of the seriousness. People who have them and are subject to their hold should seek help. It's not a good situation.

All I mean by the title I understand how someone could become bulimic. And I found out quite by accident. Well...ok...that's not entirely accurate.

You see, this past Wednesday was Halloween. And in true Blue Hen fashion, we did it up right. Nevermind the rain..we had our fire pit...we had the frozen chocolate pudding shots (SO yummy). And we sat and handed out candy for 2 hours to the 14 kids that braved the elements.

And had about 6 of the frozen chocolate pudding shots.

Which, on a normal night, would have been enough. But I wasn't working on Thursday. So this was clearly NOT a normal night.

It was Scarey-oake at BrewStirs. So, in costume I went. And sang. And drank some more.

I knew I wasn't working the next day and that an alarm clock had no meaning. So I cut loose in such a fashion that I haven't cut loose in for quite some time.

I couldn't tell you what I all I had that night, on top of very little actual food in my stomach. But I can tell you that at the end of the night, Mr. Jager and his bully friend Red showed up to close down the evening (morning).

And stumbling home I went (Must've been around 230AM or so by now).

The rest of the events are a blur.

I remember winding up in my driveway. And at that point revisiting everything I'd consumed that night in a somewhat violent fashion.

I went in to the house (I assume. I don't remember this, but I woke up in my house, so I must have walked in there at some point). And I remember going to bed as the wife was leaving for work.

And I was out until about 1230.  At which time I woke up. The rest of the details aren't as important because they don't really pertain to the title.  So...there's the set up....hadn't eaten shitfaced...puked the entire contents of my stomach out.

The human stomach holds, at any given time, about 5 lbs.

I've been weighing in fairly consistently recently at about 263. I know that a lot of this plateau is the fact that fat is converting to muscle (and I'm trying not to get discouraged by it...but it ain't easy).

On a whim Thursday, I stepped on the scale.

And it said 258.

And I was euphoric.

Read that again, folks....EUPHORIC.

I felt a rush like I'd never felt.  And then it hit me. I only 'lost' that much because I puked. I puked a lot. And I realized how that rush that I felt, coupled with struggling with weight loss, coupled with the stresses that many people normally feel in life could lead to becoming bulimic.

It was quite a wake-up call on several fronts, actually.

It was a cautionary tell to never again let Meister Jager in to the party in my stomach.

But it was also insight. For most of my life, when I heard someone had been struggling with bulimia my first thought was ' could you make yourself puke on purpose??'  Thursday...standing on that scale...experiencing that brief high...I got my answer.

So to anyone in my life that might have faced bulimia, I'm sorry. I won't say that I 'get it'...but I feel that I'm a step or too closer to understanding. And I have to's some scary shit. If I had not instantly recognized that the weight loss was from the vomiting and that it was not a good thing, I could see how it could become addicting.

The scale is back where it should be now. Actually a bit higher thanks to all the left over Halloween Candy (Tootsie Roll Fruit Rolls are the devil). But I'm working on getting it back down...the healthy way.

Happy Monday, y'all.


Popular posts from this blog

Out of Sorts

Not sure what my deal is today. I got up this morning to go for a walk and it was spitting rain, but no biggie. My thriftstore Nikes were kind of hurting my feet, so that didn't help. But it felt good to go for the walk (other than the hurting feet). And it's all going well...and then I get into work and just turn into PMS-Man.  I don't know what my deal is. I just feel bitchy this morning and I'm not sure why. Yeah. That's all I got.

Marriage Material??

I had a friend call me today, fuming. I consider myself a good listener on most days. Considering that I was out of town on a work trip and doing absolutely nothing in my hotel room, my listening game was on-point.

She recounted the exchange that sent her off. I will spare you some of the more personal details, but the gist was, at one point, the dude-bro she was talking to flat out told her that she wasn’t marriage material.

Torn between wanting to be a supportive friend and being completely gobsmacked, I felt her frustration. No. That’s not quite right. I didn’t feel the same frustration she felt. I’m approaching what some consider middle age. I’m white. I’m primarily interested in women. Oh, and I have a penis., I can never truly feel the same frustration she was feeling. Or an anger that comes from the same place her anger came from. No matter how in touch I am witn my feminine side (whatever the fuck that actually means).

Instead, the frustration and anger I was feeling w…

A Tribute to Limozeen may recall that I recently got my very first P.O.S. Electric Guitar back. And you may also recall the folly with the "amp" from Freecycle.

And now, dear readers, I will let you in on the dramatic conclusion to those harrowing tales.

From Bob at work I recently got a Vox Pathfinder 15amp which looks a little (exactly) like this:
I have to say, the amp freakin' rocks. It's got built in tremelo, and this killer overdrive feature which makes the thing sound crunchy as all get out.

So tonight, I decided to try it all out. The amp, the POS Guitar, the FAB distortion pedal (purchased the day of the Sam Ash incident), the Alesis drum machine and the Alesis io2.

The results are just...well, funny.

I give you the theme song to the soon to be hit WB-Series, "My 'Tard Husband." I call it "shortbus." Take a listen here. It's about 3MB in size and 4:14 of unbearable cheese (and the guitars get markedly louder at about the minute mark-you've been …