It sounds like all of you had a wonderful Pagan day–complete with more gifts than chocolate. Of course, in an effort to control the proliferation of little plastic crap around here, I went for small amounts of gifts and a rather large amount of chocolate. I’m such a Goddess-forsaken moron.
I didn’t go back to work today. I should have, but…
But I’ve got this thing with my digestion–it’s pretty disgusting, mostly, and it can be controlled with diet, and I’m not an idiot–I know that if I eat too much chocolate, ice-cream, caffeine, motrin, or low-fat, low-sugar ANYTHING my intestines will develop a small rupture, fill up with blood, and my next couple of days will be highly uncomfortable and, well, did I mention disgusting?
I was up all last night with stomach cramps because I ate too much chocolate. I couldn’t go into work today because I was suffering the consequences. I state that all totally flatly and without inflection, because, quite honestly, I wanted to avoid mentioning this whole mess because I felt like an idiot.
But, damn–it really is sort of funny, in an “I’m too dumb to tie my own shoes” way, isn’t it? My kids were fine–they enjoyed their gifts and their easter egg hunt, and the deviled eggs that followed. We went to my parent’s house, they played outside until the little ones were just sort of moving aimlessly in what should have been their sleep, and all in all it was an excellent family day. We had to pull Ladybug out of an orgiastic face-plant in the M&M bowl, but once we got some solid food into her and a nice, healthy bottle of toddler formula, she was peachy. But Mom? No. Mom ate so much chocolate it gave her a stomach ache of epic proportions. You know, your mom always told you that too much chocolate was bad for you and you didn’t believe it? Here I am, living proof.
I’m going to go eat some cooked vegetables now, followed by a half a portion of cream based soup, and follow it up with a nap because I was up ’til 4:30 in the morning–calling a sub and wondering what the minimum requirement was for being smart enough to live.
I think I’m just sort of marginally there.
(Oh yeah–Ladybug’s easter dress? Was made of cotton eyelet…it wasn’t going to get done, so I’m finishing it now. I don’t know when she’ll wear it, but at least I was functional for her first Easter egg hunt, so it’s a fair trade off…)
Darling, I am not laughing AT you, I am laughing WITH you.
I suffer from a similar ailment, and also? I canNOT be taught. And I have the added pleasure that, upon contact with my teeth, things like caramel, marshmallows and any other “sticky” sweet will cause me to rock back and forth in my chair wailing in AGONY.
Does this stop me from pouncing on said sticky sweets and shoveling them into my maw as fast as humanly possible, if not faster?
No. No it does not. Nor does the KNOWN FACT that I will be held by invisible tether to a radius of no more than four feet from a bathroom for the 24 hours following said hedonistic behavior.
Argh.
I call her the binge monster. She rears her ugly head at the strangest of times — things can seem to be going so well, and lo and behold an extra large bowl of buttered popcorn will fall down my throat. Or things can be awful and I’ll find an entire bag of chocolate covered raisins is gone.
I blame it on the binge monster, that nasty bitch. See, you have learned, but she hasn’t. And why is that? Because she up and disappears as soon as you take the last swallow. You’re transformed back into your intelligent, smart, witty, in-control self, and she’s no where to be found. You have to suffer her mishap all alone, learning miserably over and over again from her mistakes. But of course she doesn’t know it because she’s gone.
Hope you feel better soon. And keep that bitchy binge monster at bay!
My verification word is ssgfegck, which sounds a lot like how you must feel. ;(
Oh. sweetie, what a miserable situation. Bless your dear heart (and intestines.)The really hard part is figuring how much is tooo much. Bummer. Heal fast. I’m sending good energy your way.