It happened. It wasn't fun.

It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. I was expecting cramps and choking but it all came up fairly easy (thank you water).
What gave my brain some serious chills though was that I counted how many times I actually threw up. 8.

It isnt a ridiculous number. That's pretty basic. What bothers me is that I actually fucking counted. I'm worried but calm. I'm worried because of how easily I slipped back into the habit of counting but I feel relieved that my dinner, at least most of it, is out of my body and into the toilet. Before heading to the bathroom I threw away the last three bites, I guess I thought that if I couldn't get all of it out that I could at least limit how much I had actually eaten. I'm proud of myself for not finishing it.

It's for the best, I suppose. I have to hit the sack a little earlier tonight. I'm heading out to a Hockey game with my family tomorrow and we're leaving around 2pm to do some mini shopping/exchanging at the mall. I'm going to have a rice cake before we leave (or just on the way there) and not eat anything until we get to the stadium where I know I'll be expected to eat something (stupid fucking fat stadium food). At least we'll be walking around all day. It's an hour drive and the game doesn't start until 6:30 so I'm okay with 3 1/2 hours worth of walking calories.

I think tonight my 'dessert' is going to be Nyquil. Go me.

I hope everyone had a better day than me. Remember to stay strong.

- fair winds