diet of champions

As if I haven't chronicled my bizarre and crazy eating habits enough, here is one more to throw into the mix:

When I'm stressed, I don't eat.

First things first, I do not have an eating disorder. And by no means am I poking fun at any such disorder - it's a serious medical condition that deserves attention. I fully admit that my eating habits do not err on the side of healthy, but I do not starve myself for any specific purpose. It's just that when I'm stressed, the first thing that is affected is my stomach. Pepto Bismol is my holy water. Case in point, as a banker, I lost 7 pounds. I'm about as built as a six year old whose dad has to bribe the coach to let him play wiffle ball. 7 pounds lighter for me means I look like the alien life form that is Mary Kate Olsen (or is it Ashley? Who the hell knows).

This past week, kinda stressful. Therefore, I didn't eat very much. You know what happens when you don't eat much? You start to feel nauseated. And then you really don't feel like eating. I found myself in this troubling situation last night. Not hungry, but knowing that I had to eat something. I tried to convince myself I craved falafel. "Mmm, falafel" I kept saying to myself (sometimes out loud, oops). I bought my falafel, but sadly it didn't solve the problem. I had about half and then didn't want anymore. But I was hungry. I felt hazy and sleepy and I knew that depriving myself of calories much longer was a bad idea.

And then, like a mirage in the desert, my roommate appeared at my door. "I'm going to get some dinner then probably get some ice cream. Do you want me to pick you up a pint?"

I silently sang "hallelujah!" to myself. He came back a while later, and presented me with a pint of Half-Baked from Ben and Jerry's. Half cookie-dough, half-brownie.

And that, boys and girls, is how the spell of the no-eating-neurotic-stress cadette was broken.

*~*~

Mathilda: "I became ... bulemic."
Derek: "You can read minds?!"

This movie gets better each and every time I watch it.