It’s been a hell of a weekend; a whirlwind of events, traveling, and eating. I was surrounded at all times with people who would become suspicious if I refrained from eating. My mother and I met for breakfast at a darling bistro downtown, but when I scrutinized the menu to find oatmeal..a fruit plate.. her radar must’ve gone off and she insisted I order an omelet. An omelet that is, of course, served with a mountain of potatoes and four pieces of toast. After careful maneuvering, I avoided the potatoes and toast but had to choke down half the entree. The rest of the day consisted of a pizza party for lunch that was hosted by one of the fraternities followed by drinking the night away. I don’t even want to guess at the amount of sugar I consumed from the alcoholic fruit punch – lovingly called Porch Crawler.
At least my dignity remained intact; I didn’t black out, and managed to find a taxi to bring me home alone. When I drink, I tend to flirt and charm anyone and everyone within a twenty foot radius. There have been mornings in my past where I would awake, groan, and look around me to find someone else in my bed. It has been about a year since I’ve brought home a random guy, but the potential of doing so always haunts the back of my mind. Luckily it was only an impressive hangover that greeted me the next morning.
Sunday consisted of nursing that said hangover with food, lots of water, and ibuprofen. Overall, the weekend was a terrible combination of binge drinking and binging on food. Monday was packed to the brim with classes, work, and sorority meetings. I had fasted entirely from Sunday evening around 7pm to the time my sorority meeting ended. I had worn a skirt that accentuated my whittling waist but was still too tight over my giant hips and ass. L caught up with me as I was about to leave and asked me if I’d go with her to get something to eat.. I had a million excuses on my tongue that could have come forward, but instead I agreed.
We went to a local sandwich shop and I had a small veggie sub, but still I felt gross.. weak.. I didn’t need this food, didn’t even want it, yet I was here and eating it. I couldn’t finish the sandwich – my stomach began complaining at halfway, and I didn’t push it. The idea of purging it flashed through my head and I know that I could have easily done so, but I wasn’t alone then and my roommate was at the apartment. I swore to make it up to myself. I fasted entirely on Tuesday, consuming only black coffee, water, and hydroxycut. The work out I had was intense, lots of arm and shoulder weights and plenty of running.
And so I wake early on Wednesday morning, intending to get up and do laundry, to get up and run, to get up to be productive. Yet, I’m still in my bed typing this. I’m too afraid to weigh myself today. I’m tempted to fast for one more day before stepping onto the scale. I dread the numbers. My greatest enemy other than food is that dreaded scale. I know my curiosity will get the better of me and I’ll see that I’ve gained and resolve to extend the fast for even longer. I really must be skinnier by the end of September when we have a photo shoot with our sorority chapter. I refuse to be the fat whale in every shot. Sorry, but it won’t happen if I have anything to say about it.
Love you all, my skinnies,
GG
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