my padded room ...

Do you have troubles understanding what an eating disorder is?

Here.

Let me help you with how insane it can be.

I have an allotted amount of chocolate for each day in my cupboard.

That right there is part of an eating disorder.  Limiting how much I allow myself.

Anyway, it gets MUCH more entertaining.

Then there's the fact that I won't allow myself to eat it before 5 o'clock.

If I eat it before 5, then I will just obsess for the remainder of the day about the rest of the chocolate that is in the cupboard and will eat everything else I can get my hands on, even though all I really want is the chocolate, so I try to fill myself up with other things until I'm bloated and sick to my stomach to fill the void that which is the chocolate.

So, I try to eat super healthy until it's chocolate time.  After that, all hell breaks loose.

However, having said that, I have to eat it before 6, otherwise the caffeine will keep me up.  There's this magical 5 - 6 pm time that is like my happy hour.

Seriously, I might as well just stick to the rules and all will go much smoother.

Furthermore, I don't allow myself any more than the allotted amount of chocolate, or I will:

1) have too much sugar in my system creating Candida, then,

2) obsess about what I see in the mirror, then,

3) get on the 'wtf, I already ate that much, I might as well eat the whole damn thing' wagon, then, 

4) eat all the chocolate in the cupboard and have no happy hour the next day, which just sucks, then, 

5) get sick from too much so that I'm lying in a tub like a beached whale, calling my friend to say, "Omg.  I'm so sick.  I just couldn't stop eating it!  And now I can't move from the tub or I'm going to hurl."  (true story)

Anyway.  Among all of the above is also the incessant nattering, the worst of which starts around noon.

"We get chocolate in a while!"  It says.

Then around 1 o'clock.  "I can't wait until we get chocolate!  Here!  You better eat some veggies, brown rice and tahini to calm yourself."

Then around 2, "Oh man.  I don't know if I can hold out much longer!  Here!  Have some goat cheese!  Stat!!"

Around 3, I can be rational and say to myself, "You know, if you eat that chocolate, you're going to be really tired from a sugar crash and you won't get anything done."  That curbs me for a while, because the reality of the mid-day crash is enough to not allow me to make it worse.

But at 4, I seriously start to lose it.  "Omg!  I can't wait much longer.  How about we just eat it now and 'behave' for the rest of the day?!?!?!"

It's at this point that I start to snack on whatever I can find that is snack-able to try to convince my brain that the chocolate has to wait, or make the biggest plate of veggies in the world to keep my mouth busy.

At 5, I RIP THE PACKAGE OPEN AND GORGE IN A PANICKED STATE THAT LOOKS LIKE A COUGAR WHO JUST CAUGHT HIS PREY AFTER NOT EATING FOR A MONTH!!!!!

By 5:10, it's done, and I'm sad that I have to wait another 24 hours before I get to have more.

For the rest of the evening however, I must fight my brain off about the chocolate and remind myself that it just isn't going to happen.

Not to mention, my sugar crash usually keeps me down for the count, and I don't much feel like moving anyway.

This is how I live.

Every day.

This is only part of an eating disorder.

The obsession is manic and I have no control over telling it to shut the fuck up.

I could stop the obsession by abstaining from chocolate all together.

Yes!  I could!

Which I've done in the past.

But I'm in the Dominican Republic people!!!!  The best chocolate and coffee in the world!!!  Why would I want to deprive myself?!?!?!?

So, I obsess.

It must be worth it.

I keep doing it.

i learn from my mistakes

bedlam brain

"Honey?  Can you get me a Pepsi?  I want my breakfast in bed today."

No, I'm not kidding you.

You think I exaggerate?

I don't.

He's fine with living off junk food, but he doesn't understand I can't do that for 2 weeks!

He made me give away all my kitchen stuff last night, in another round of The Great DR Purge.

He's so mean.

He says I don't need them.

Ha!

Because of my food allergies, I can't just go grab a burger or pizza, so I'm forced to actually COOK my food.

At home.

So, getting rid of all my kitchen stuff means I can't cook.

I'd like to say it means I'll be losing weight, because I may be starving to death, but it won't.

It will mean I will be eating staples for the next few weeks.

Staples always includes way too many carbs for this body.

There may be some candida issues, not to mention a few Hurricane Andréa sightings and definitely some bloating.

It's bad enough that The Countdown is down to 12 days and we're freaking out, but a bad diet definitely won't help issues on my part.

I say WE are freaking out.

Yes, we.

On two different occasions yesterday, as per usual, we were asked, "So!  Are you getting excited?!?!"

Every time someone asks that, Papi and I just look at each other for the pause of 'they really don't understand' silence.

Like clockwork, I will spurt out, "Overwhelmed," and Papi will reply, "I wouldn't use the word, 'excited'."

My Eternal Friend knows what it's like.  She packed up and moved to Guatamala.

Everyone else just treats it like we're going for a holiday.

Well, I guess to some we are going on a holiday that lasts more than 2 weeks.

We're not allowed to leave for 2 months if we want residency, so even if I wanted to come home, I can't.

I guess if I only wanted 2 weeks of pain relief, I could do that.

But going back and forth so much during the winter probably won't do me any good.

It will just make my bitch of a back think it's bipolar and drain the bank account pretty damn fast.

On a side note, I just thought I'd let you know I drank an entire cup of coffee without spilling it on my t-shirt.

Not that that has anything to do with this blog.

But then again, this blog kinda started out a little scattered anyway.

That's pretty much how I feel these days.

Scattered.

My brain feels strewn across the city.  I suppose that's the reason for the migraine.

It's still threatening to come back at force.  It seems I can go half a day without pain killers for it, but at some point, it just gets to be too much.

I guess I may be putting off the withdrawal for a few more days.

Anyway, there I go again.

I can't keep any conversation on one thing for more than a minute.

Perhaps it's because we're living amongst chaos.

Bedlam brain.

i follow my dreams, no matter what

That's pretty much it.

big honking mess.

I didn't think it was going to happen.  I'm bloody nervous.

I could tell something was up a few days ago, when my appetite was becoming a tad ravenous, yet I'm not having PMS.

I'm eating so many carbs that I've actually felt my clothes tightening.  That doesn't do good things for my bitch of a back.  Keeping my weight low is wayyyyyy better for the pain.

Not to mention, my candida could errupt.  Too many carbs are about the same thing as eating processed sugar all day long.  I don't need to deal with those repercussions right now!

Then, for 3 nights in a row, I've had a pounding heart.

I'm no stranger to panic attacks, only mine are usually limb flailing dramatic, taking form of a lack of breath and my body parts disappearing one by one.

OK.  It's not that I can't see them.  I'm not delusional, yet.  It's just that I can't feel them.

When they happen, even my head feels like it's a mile higher than my neck.

Anyway, I thought I was going into cardiac arrest.  It actually made my fists begin to clench.

I remember being so tense in life that it was normal that I had that much tension in my body.  I would brush my teeth with one hand, and the other hand was a full fledged fist, ready to pop any predators who tried to sneak up on me in my compromised state.

Well, I had clenched fists the other night as I was trying to do my nightly 'distract my brain so I can sleep' crossword puzzle.

I texted Papi, my pill pusher, and asked, "Do you have anything for anxiety?  I think I'm going to have a fucking heart attack!!"

He offered up the only thing he had in his bucket of fun, a sleeping pill.

The next night it happened, he had some low dose benzos to offer.  They helped.

Last night?  He decided to suggest the big kahuna: a combo sleeping/anxiety pill.

I popped that little culprit, then set my alarm to wake up for my Google+ skype coffee date.

This morning?  My eyes man!  They wouldn't open as I very ungraciously groped around for the suspect siren that was going off.

I would have actually preferred to stay in the nightmare I was experiencing, rather than try to reach consciousness.

My head!  I was counting the seconds until my pain killers kicked in.  That and I prayed the coffee fairies would 'poof' make my coffee appear like magic.

Oh.  Speaking of the coffee?  I cracked my morning egg into my coffee urn.  That was nice.  Then, I cleaned it out and started again.

With a lack of patience, I waited for my water to boil.

And waited ...

And waited ...

I would've been waiting a long time if I hadn't have noticed the burner was never turned on.

But hey!  My toast was ready before everything else.  That's a tragedy.  At least it got the toast in my yak to start my brain thinking better.

Jeeeeeeezus!  That little pill won't be a repeat tonight.

Somehow, I have to find a way to get through the night without Papi's magical pills.  He's trying to turn me into a zombie!

I thought my eye twitching from the new pain killers was already annoying enough.  Well, they certainly are flickering faster than a fluorescent bulb now.

So, it's confirmed.  I'm scared.

I suppose I'm granted that, because people don't go through life changing moments like this every day.

My friends told me how proud they are of me and my bravery.

Would you like to come see me just before I pass out and say that again?

I'm a wreck.

i love and accept my body as it is, and work to make it better

I want a fart machine.

Of course I'm going to offend someone with this post, but I have to be true to myself and say it, because dammit!  I haven't met my piss off quota lately.

I want someone to invent a fart machine.

Not to make the sounds, because we have whoopie cushions and armpits for that.

What I want, is a gizmo that I can press a button and out will come ass stench at will.

I'd use my very own Buffalo Breath if I could gauge when I get the rank, horrid, practically seen breath emerges.

Well, that's not entirely true.  I know I'll get it if I stress out enough, or most mornings.

Oh, another way, is I can get it from too much sugar in my diet (aka: Candida), or from the gads of raw garlic I like to put in foods (to fight the Candida).

Then again, I also get it from taking those hideous pain pills, but then I'd be stuck with that breath all day and what happens if I see someone I like!?!?!

I hate it when that happens!  They don't deserve to give me a hug and smell shit breath!

I'm very self conscious about it with people I like.

I know that really, my Buffalo Breath was a direct result from my eating disorder.  I damaged my stomach with laxatives when I didn't care about the consequences, and thought it was more important to find that 'thin' girl, that to this day, I would never see in the mirror.

Anyway, this really wasn't supposed to be about my Buffalo Breath, nor anorexia.

It's supposed to be about a fart machine.

I want a fart machine that I can turn on at any time, so that the next time I'm stuck near the scum of cigarette stink, I can turn it on.

I understand people have their addiction, but man!  Why am I subject to smelling your malodour?

I don't go around intentionally farting and waving my stinky armpit smells around you!!!

But hey, if I had a fart machine, then I could prove a point.

When they said, "Fuck man!  That thing stinks!  Turn that shit off!"

I'd be able to say, "I will when you butt that rank skank out.  If I have to smell your crud, then you have to smell this.  I'm addicted to making this smell.  I just can't help myself.  It's a sickness."

So.

If there are any scientists out there who would like to indulge, I'm pretty sure it would 'smell' on the market.

... hehehe ... i know, that was really cheesy ...

I know I would buy one!

It would have to be small though.  Maybe a container like my mace that I carry around in my purse.

Wait!

Is it illegal to mace people who occupy my air space with their wafting addiction?

Probably.

Anyway, someone out there, please, make me a fart machine.

I'm sick of being passive aggressive and having to close my fucking house and car windows to escape it.

Fuck!  It sucks old man sweaty balls when I'm relaxing in a comfy, sunny spot, and along comes a smoker who sits right near me.

Then I have to move away for 7 minutes, while they enjoy my seat in their funk, as I wait impatiently for them to finish.

I can only resume my nice spot once they've complete pissing me off with their fetor.

That is of course, unless they're a chain smoker.  Then I'm subject to another bout of mephitis within moments of one of those bitches being put out.

For the love of god, make me a fart machine.

i behave in ways that promote my health more every day

Fasting?

So, my sugar fast is going quite well.

... end sarcasm here ...

I've had a few litres of coconut ice cream, a couple bags of wheat free, choco-chip, oatmeal cookies and another  couple of chocolate bars since finishing off the vat of chocolate my fancy Easter Bunny brought me.

I still have 1 more bucket of the coconut ice cream treat left.  I'll have to eat it to get it off my mind.

This is a fast?

Very fast!  I eat these treats like nobody else.

Gorge?  Why yes I am, thank you very much.

I was starving for so fucking long that I just don't give a shit what I'm putting in my body, I suppose.

I wanted that last bucket of sweet, creamy heaven last night, and had to stop myself from getting it by eating a bag of popcorn and a wheat free bagel with peanut butter.

Then I went to bed and obsessed about my peanut butter swirled, chocolate, coconut ice cream some more.

Seems that this morning, I'm still obsessing about it.

Anyway, I think that once I get that last bad boy out of my freezer and into my belly, I'll be well on my way to eating my normal diet of absolutely no sugar.

It's making me a bit crazy.

The sugar that is.

Like I said, if you want a Hurricane Andréa sighting, just add sugar.

Not to mention, I'm on the verge of a candida eruption!

I was not feeling so fresh last night I'll tell ya.

But today, I go see my baby sister, and I'm sure there will be much more sugar to be had.

Normal people can eat sugar all day, every day without it being an issue.

... or so they think ... right papi?! ...

I'm the odd woman out with my healthy diet of whole, organic foods and no processed crap.

I have to work double time to keep my brain thinking of the positive when there's sugar running rampantly through my blood.

I'm one step ahead of the evil demons who plant horrid thoughts in my head.

I was actually paranoid that my baby sister was influenced by Mommy Dearest and her evil sidekick, Mr. Homophobia, and didn't want to talk to me anymore.

Seriously?!?!?

I know my baby sister loves me oodles and I love her even more than that!

Yet, there I was, writing an email asking if she was mad at me, because she didn't get back to me as quickly as she usually does.

Of course she wrote back to explain how busy she was.  She has a family that's more than busy.  It happens all the time that she can't get back to me.

However, because this happened after the dinner I wasn't invited to, my sugar filled blood whispered sweet nothings to my brain, leaving me hypnotized by my demons.

Blammo!

Instant: 'nobody loves me'!

So strange, isn't it?  How can I be so messed up, just from eating too much sugar?

Oh yeah right.  I'm 'special'.  I have the world's most sensitive body.  You can call me bubble girl.

If you want to know if something is bad for you, feed it to me.  My body will let you know in an instant.

But then, you'll probably just keep eating all those delicious yummies even if they do turn me into a monster, right?

I'm so envious.

i love and respect my body

Candida!!! Horror of all horrors!!!

You may be pleased to know that I've showered.

It's amazing how much body hair can grow in a week.

Wow.

I think the only time in my life that I've had longer armpit hair was when I first came out and noticed all the lesbians around me grew their pits.

So, I thought, "Hey!  If they don't care then neither do I!"

That was short lived.

I'm not that kinda girl.

They were shaved.

I remember the performance I had and I exposed my newly shaved underarm to the club.  "I shaved just for you!" I belted out between songs.

As soon as I flashed my flesh, one of my silliest friends came to the stage and licked my freshly barbered pit.

I squealed with laughter!

Today was not as monumental.

I just shaved that shit off.

But you'll be happy to know I'm less stinky now.

AND!!

I can open my mouth wide enough to take pills without squirming in pain every time I tried to shove those horrid little bastards in my yak.

I was told yesterday that I wasn't drinking enough liquid or getting enough nutrition.  They said I was malnourished and dehydrated.

They told me I need to be drinking orange juice, pop and any other kind of sugary liquid I can get my lips on.

This is problematic in so many ways.

I have candida.  I've never really talked about it to much with 'you', my imaginary friend.

I mean really, when I started talking to 'you' about Papi being a transgender person and ...

... oh whoa is me ...

... how the fuck am I ever going to get over it?!?!

... hehehe ... silly wife ... we'll always love papi no matter what ...

How the hell would I make a segway from my love going through male transformation into, "Hey, by the way, I have candida."

Well, I guess I did today.

I don't eat sugar in my diet and I only eat one serving of fruit a day.  I've always just told people I'm allergic to it, because it's easier than talking about what it really is.  Not to mention the fact that too much sugar makes me a lunatic and homicidal.

But now?   I'm shoving in Canada Dry Ginger Ale, Tropicana OJ, SunRype apple juice and coconut ice cream by the litre.

My body is telling me it's not impressed.

And it's not just the sugar I'm cramming in my belligerent beak.  It's the fact that I had to be on antibiotics for a week.

Both of these add up to a nasty time in candida-land.

Oh.

Dearest boys, if you don't know what candida is, stay in your little bubble of ignorance.  You don't want to know.

Dear girls, stop squirming with the thought of a yeast infection.

Dear helpful healthy tips people, yes, I'm taking my acidophilus.

Anyway, I don't stink.

Now I just have to deal with the fact that I'm fucking hungry and have been craving bacon for two days now.

you never know how strong you really are, until being strong is the only choice you have