Last night I went to David 2’s place to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race. I wasn’t there very long, but he made me tacos anyways. By that, I mean a very loose interpretation of a taco: it was corn tortillas and al pastor seasoned ground pork, and nothing else. They were fine for what they were. I was only there for a few hours, and then I went home.
When I got home, I had to think very hard about whether I wanted to make myself sick. It’s a strange, but familiar internal conversation. I had not binged. I didn’t feel guilty for what I’d eaten, but some part of my mind was like, "You should definitely throw it up. You remember that nice feeling afterward. Do it."
I did not do it.
I thought about it, and it wasn’t necessary, and before bed I actually ate a PB&J sammich, just to spite that part of my brain that thought we needed to purge last night.
It’s peculiar how quickly old habits can be resurrected. I’m sure it’s going to be a regular battle to push it back down again… since I just had lunch and my body is ready and willing to purge that, too. I’m pushing it down with NOS right now…