B&P on Lebanese
This week, I'd made a promise to myself that, from then on, I would not eat after 7:30pm. Some doctors say that food eaten two hours prior to bedtime is more easily stored as fat, due to the body's decreased metabolism during sleep periods. Sounds a little fishy, but it's the perfect excuse to give my friends when they get testy about my lack of food consumption.
Of course, having made that promise only days before, I arrived at home last night to find a tray full of Lebanese food waiting for me - hummus, tabouleh, and a hot, garlicky chicken donair. (Talk about food porn. Lebanese is probably one of the most will-weakening cuisines, IMO.) The clock read 8:30, but still I grabbed the donair and rammed it down my foodhole as quickly as possible. And, for the first time, I began thinking about purging DURING my meal. "Well, the damage is done, so I may as well consume the entire platter. I’ll just purge later." Sick, sick, SICK. I've never done that before.
All told, I know that I only ate half the donair, and a few forkfuls of tabouleh, while the pitas and hummus lay untouched. But I felt like I'd gorged ceaselessly for hours, and my tummy felt full of lard.
My father tried to coerce me into washing the dishes but I feigned illness at having eaten too quickly, and skedaddled off to the washroom. Blarg, up it came, until I was sweaty and dry-heaving. I ran to the bathroom during commercials, half-heartedly trying to get thinspiration from a bony Catherine Zeta Jones, in "America's Sweethearts". (Most a propos quote in the movie: "You buttered my toast. Nobody's ever buttered my toast before. Of course, I don't normally eat toast..." - Ha! She finally admits it! Hehe.)
So now my heart hurts and I'm dehydrated as hell. I feel worse for having purged, but I can't help feel it was better than having that junk in my trunk. I shall let yesterday be a lesson to me - no food after 7:30 at ALL. For real, this time.
Of course, having made that promise only days before, I arrived at home last night to find a tray full of Lebanese food waiting for me - hummus, tabouleh, and a hot, garlicky chicken donair. (Talk about food porn. Lebanese is probably one of the most will-weakening cuisines, IMO.) The clock read 8:30, but still I grabbed the donair and rammed it down my foodhole as quickly as possible. And, for the first time, I began thinking about purging DURING my meal. "Well, the damage is done, so I may as well consume the entire platter. I’ll just purge later." Sick, sick, SICK. I've never done that before.
All told, I know that I only ate half the donair, and a few forkfuls of tabouleh, while the pitas and hummus lay untouched. But I felt like I'd gorged ceaselessly for hours, and my tummy felt full of lard.
My father tried to coerce me into washing the dishes but I feigned illness at having eaten too quickly, and skedaddled off to the washroom. Blarg, up it came, until I was sweaty and dry-heaving. I ran to the bathroom during commercials, half-heartedly trying to get thinspiration from a bony Catherine Zeta Jones, in "America's Sweethearts". (Most a propos quote in the movie: "You buttered my toast. Nobody's ever buttered my toast before. Of course, I don't normally eat toast..." - Ha! She finally admits it! Hehe.)
So now my heart hurts and I'm dehydrated as hell. I feel worse for having purged, but I can't help feel it was better than having that junk in my trunk. I shall let yesterday be a lesson to me - no food after 7:30 at ALL. For real, this time.