Into the Icebox

Oh boy, there's nothing more exciting than trying to decipher a formula for keeping oneself alive as a neurotic bulimic/ binging-purging anorexic. After a several weeks keeping the local medical professionals on the ledge of their opera box getting my serum potassium under control, something in my mind has finally shifted. No need to keep vomiting for half an hour after all evidence points to complete evacuation of stomach contents every single time. Dare I say, I believe I may have even digested some (romaine!) lettuce yesterday.

But the deliberate intake of normal (or really- any) food still seems to elude me. I tried an apple yesterday. It quickly became a party order from Burger King, a vat of semolina cereal, and a bunch of other crap I'm not up for detailing at the moment. I felt such crap just now the thought came to mind that I might just give one of my old standbys the old grad school try again. I lived on these smoothies when I relapsed in my thesis year. Frozen fruit, skim milk, fake sugar. By May, I'd murdered my blender. But you'd better believe I defended that fucking thesis and got my MA.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to work anymore. I don't know if it's just been too long since I bothered with real, healthy food and the feeling in my stomach is rooted in some authentic physical issue. More likely I simply lack the impetus. Either way, I couldn't stomach it. I couldn't bin it, either, though. Apparently I've already blasted through my food stamps for the month.

So I got the bright idea to tip it into my icecube trays. Frozen things seem to work for me, even when they do have nutritional value, provided there's no fat or added sugar. I don't know what else to do.