Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Could Actually Wear My Sister's Clothes Again...

Well, I nearly died at the gym last night and this time is wasn't due to a massive treadmill malfunction (user error), but instead it was all because of a massively pregnant chick and her side-ponytail. Her name is Sarah. She teaches a class at the gym called Body Attack. Why in the fuck did I think I should go to a group class that foreshadows your impending, self-induced, graphic physical assault right in the name IN ALL CAPS? And exactly how embarrassed should I be that this lady, so pregnant that I could see a foot sticking out of her cooter, kicked my ass all over the studio?

I'm afraid I'll have to blame that class I took with sensual, belly dancing Marya and the torture that is group cycling (aka THIRD CIRCLE OF HELL). I've been sucked into the group class cog and I can't break free. I am a hamster after all.

God, it sounds like I live at the carnival or something, pregnant bellies flying around over here...big, twitching asses over here...a couple of gangly guys in the back of the room (do they stand there to see all the asses in front of them, or is it more because their feet are the size of pontoons?)...all we're missing is that chick that swallows the swords, and frankly I kind of feel like I've got metal shards in my throat, so that's just about the same damn thing.

I know this all sounds very convoluted, but you'll have to keep in mind that my brain is melting because I'm eating about 300 calories a day at this point, and that's just a guess because the packages don't give nutritional information for 1/16 serving sizes. I'm not trying to starve myself or anything, really I'm not (although if this were 15 years ago, we'd have a whole other neurosis on our hands here), last night I made this awesome dinner with GUACAMOLE! and TACO MEAT! and CHIPS! and, well you get the idea, and I made myself up a plate of food, all the while thinking "HA! Yeah right, good luck with that!" and I sat down and ate exactly four bites before my stomach went on strike, and then I stared at my neglected dinner with bedroom eyes and pouted while Gray inhaled his food.

My digestive system is starting to work itself out (at least I think it is...calls to my colon were not immediately returned), but I still get the nausea when I eat food or drink more than a sip of liquid at a time, and I'm thinking the main problem is that my food intake was so ridiculously restricted for so many weeks that my stomach shrunk up like a pair of heterosexual testicles at Gay 90s on pageant night. Now I have to eat little bits all day long and get myself used to ingesting actual non-soup food again.

On the up side, I'm now down to my junior high weight, a modern-day miracle if there ever was one (I realize that will go to hell the moment I start eating again), and my "skinny" clothes are sagging of my hips. On the down side, my belly still looks like a cottage cheese smoothie.