Eating too much Just Hurts My Tummy

Splurging Hurts My Tummy

So, last night didn’t turn out quite like I planned. There was no diet alternatives at the party. In fact, everything that I enjoy eating too much of was right at my finger tips. And guess who kept eating until I had to ask the host for an Alka Selzer? Yes, I had my red plastic cup in my hand, and guests were asking me what I was drinking. My bland reply….”Something fizzy inside, I think!”

God, I ate guacamole until it came out my ears. Thank you Jennifer Nelson for making it exactly like I enjoy it, with a tab extra cumin. Then chocolate mud-filled cupcakes, fuzzy navels, because there were no diet drink alternatives (note to self: bring your own drinks next time.) Then the pié de resistance: Alex’s Mexican mother made homemade fajitas. Okay. I couldn’t resist, even though I had already eaten dinner. (Could I be more of a glutton?) By the end of the evening, my stomach felt like it was a bulging blimp filled with wet sand. I couldn’t move or sleep last night. I had to get up and fantasize about sleeping in a chair. And… I’m very afraid to get on the scale this morning. I’m waiting for something to give, first.

What if I’ve gained another pound or two? What then? What will be my new plan for losing now 5 pounds?

There is another party tonight? Am I going to act the same and get tipsy and laugh my way through a steak, loaded baked potato and 3 desserts? “OH, BO, WHEN WILL IT STOP?”

I promised someone I wouldn’t mention him in this blog, so the person I’m not supposed to talk about says to me: “Oh my stomach hurts,” before mine even started hurting. And what did I see him eat after mentioning that? A dish of dump cake and some fajita without the bread. I mean really. Have we all gone mad? The table was filled with babbling overeaters, partying.

I guess that’s the point. We eat until we drop. That is our culture. Look at Thanksgiving and every kind of celebration we have. Everything is all about food, volumes of food until you can’t see, or some kind of pie you forgot to taste on your forehead, because you fell asleep in front of the television from food exhaustion.

I’m not sure if I’m done with this food fiasco. I don’t know if I’ve learned my lesson yet. But this morning, there will be no Cracker Barrel pancakes I’ve gotten that far in my morning proclamation! Hallelujah.


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