When I said I'd give anything...

... to get rid of the horrifying weight I've put on, an attack of emotional bulimia REALLY wasn't what I had in mind. One nasty aspect of my weakness for certain types of guys is an inability to stay nourished when the bullshit starts. When I had the first of several extremely ugly splits with the cross-dressing redneck, I lost 20 lbs in SIX DAYS, while drinking beer and eating Doritos with onion dip every night. (I briefly considered whether I might've caught something from one of his yard dogs- he had six, any of whom probably woulda been a better BF). I'm beginning to wonder if this bout is gonna be equally extreme. Of course, the measure of my hopelessness re: losing 58 pounds can be taken from the fact that I kinda wouldn't mind if this were a bad bout. I figure, at least I'm not confused by what's happening, I saw this train coming and chose not to step out of the way. Of course it hurts like a bastard, but I've just gotta wade through the sad stuff. I'm not drinking- hiding from this pain won't help, and will drag the process out unnecessarily- but a few hours (days, weeks) of unconsciousness seems tempting when I allow myself to stop analyzing and just feel. So I'm not doing much feeling. I'm analyzing the non-emotional stuff (with a little help...etc ) to pieces and watching as much Spongebob as possible. And I've lost six or eight pounds in the past two days. It's awfully nice to see my cheekbones again- and, hell, I might as well LOOK good if I can't FEEL good, right?