The Unbalancing Act Read Online Free PDF Page B

Christmas candy. I ate a solid chocolate Santa, four of those delicious little peanut butter and chocolate Christmas trees, a piece of cherry pie, about a half a pound of cinnamon bears, and then I needed something salty so I made popcorn. I ate it. I had never in my life eaten so much and I felt like I was ready to blow. I thought about it for a second, and had what I felt was an epiphany. Why don’t I go puke this shit up and pretend like it never happened? That’s right. I’ll just start puking after I eat and then I don’t have to worry about the rest of this baby weight, it will fall right off!  Brilliant! Why hadn’t I thought of this before?
     
    Now look, I am not body obsessed, but I am body conscious and I gained sixty pounds with my third pregnancy. I ate everything I could get my mouth around. I am normally about one hundred and ten pounds so you can bet I looked like I was a reflection in a funhouse mirror when I was nine months along. Even my eyelids were fat. My nose spread so far that the skin on it looked like an orange peel from my pores being stretched so far. I still have a few pounds to lose to fit into my “goal jeans” but for crying out loud, I’ve come a long way. Besides, I learned after my first baby, even if the weight comes off, the body parts don’t always shift back to the same place.
     
    Anyway, my two big boys were at school and the baby was napping. I went in to the toilet and of course wiped all the boys piss off with spray and paper towels to prepare for my glorious purging event. I stuck my finger down my throat and nothing happened. I did it again, further this time. What the hell! Why wasn’t this working?  I thought it was my stance so I put one leg up on the toilet and gave a big poke down the back of my throat. Up came a gigantic gag…just a loud gag…but still no treats. I tried again, just a dry heave, and again the same thing. I shot a glance at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and teary from the gagging and my face burned. I learned that I was the loudest non-puking-puker ever to walk the earth. I also decided, fuck this shit, the baby is going to wake up any minute and I haven’t accomplished a thing except now I feel shitty. Right then and there I had decided this bulimia thing was not for me. First of all, I suck at it, and second of all, I just plain don’t have the time for it. I wiped my eyes, and then I saw a figure move in the hallway. It was Eric, who had gotten home early. He had seen the whole miserable event. He looked as white as a sheet.
     
    “How long has it been, Vadie? How long have you been doing this?”
     
    “Just today,” I said, still wiping my eyes.
     
    He sat down at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and then looked up at me.
     
    “Don’t fuck around with me, tell me the truth! This is serious. I feel so bad that I didn’t even notice. What are we going to do? There are places that can help you; we need to tell your mom Vadie. How could I have missed this? You’ve been eating so much lately!”
     
    “Well thanks a lot, you ass, but you don’t understand. This is all so funny!”  I couldn’t stop laughing. “I was just trying to see if I could do it, that’s all and I can’t, so it’s over. Don’t worry about it! Now don’t make me feel like I’m crazy or something.” I tried to grab his waist and hug it all better but he stopped me.
     
    “Vada, why do you try to make everything a joke? You are the mother of my children and I’m not going to let you do this to yourself.” He went on and on. I have to admit I was trying not to laugh at that point, but it did make me feel good that he cared so much. As I looked into his brown eyes filled with fear and his lip shaking like it always does when he is nervous, something came over me. I knew I wasn’t going to win this argument. I gave him a huge hug and gave in. I let him think that I needed help. I promised him that I would never do it again. I kept