I Can't Handle Ugly

Yesterday I managed to keep myself in control (mostly) but today? Notsomuch.

I had a 6:30 softball game then headed over to Baby Patrol afterwards. (No baby, still belly) My mom and I ended up staying the night and when I woke up: grapes and 2 bowls of corn flakes then more grapes and a couple slices of watermelon. AND THEN(!) when we got before noon I ate rice cakes with peanut butter-ish  and eggwhites on toast.

Le sigh.

But still, I thought, I'll just not eat the rest of the day. I'll be okay. I can do this! (exclamation point  = enthusiasm = coffee) And that exclamation point extended itself to my mom's idea to bake a cake (to welcome baby when baby's birthed) and I was like, "CUP cakes! Yes! Let's bake some cupcakes!". We decided both. She do cake, I do cupcakes.

Right when the cake was ready to be frosted my mom bounced out to go walk Ms. Preggers leaving me to decorate the cake [and cupcakes]. 

Disaster after decorating disaster followed. My efforts of "touching up" these "hiccups" resulted in hideousness. (And self-loathing.) (Lots and lots of self-loathing.) I tried to get my mom to rethink the whole cake thing; passing it along to a random homeless seemed perfectly reasonable (not to mention charitable). Mother Dearest did not agree. 

(Sorry random homeless dude)

Still with a smidge of a smidgen of hope and determined to redeem my decorating and creative abilities I tried to get a little fancypants with the cupcakes. 

FAIL. 

Luckily cupcakes are salvagable. They ended up simple and pretty cute. But one more look at the cake catastrophe sent me over the edge. I wanted to go straight ostrich in this biotch and bury my head in the ground. The toilet swallowed my head instead. That's right:

Binge, binge binge.

Purge, purge, purge.

Le sigh. I hate myself. Emotions and feelings suck. And you know what the worst part of it is? (Well, let me tell you!) It's not even the throwing up that is the bad part to me. It's satisfying. The contents traveling up my esophagus-that feeling, I like. I imagine cutters feeling similarly about the pain of slicing their own flesh. I hate (HATE! HATE!! HATE!!!) the calories of the binge. And the after isn't great. The worst is the anxiety I get when my body is hellbent on digestion and the fear of not being able to bring anything up. But the way it consumes my mind that's what I do it for. The ugliness was gone for that bit. The world outside of food, fingers and flushing wasn't there.

I regret eating more than purging.

Not.

Normal.