Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And THAT Is How I Became an Alcoholic
I feel complete disconnect to the people around me. I drink only if the company displeases me. Surrounded by chemists, scientists, doctors, engineers, and delicious food, I am in my element.
I ask for a helping of bread. People offer, I grab and eat.
"Along with the mustard. The food needs to be thrown up later." She adds. I take a drink. Alcoholic drink. Wine. The more % alcohol by volume, THE BETTER.
I load my plate with salad. I discuss the loveliness of a cheeseburger.
"I look like I am perpetually carrying a 3 month fetus." Says the dangerously thin one. One more drink in my system. Wine chased by vodka.
I down a bowl of soup. I dislike soup, but nevertheless, it is food.
"Sniff the food, eat ice cubes!"
I drown my distaste in alcohol. Whiskey. Jack Daniels. People suddenly feel ... not so annoying.
Desert came. I exclaim in my slurred voice that I'd like a helping, a BIG piece, if I may.
"Good for you... good for you. We can't, we are all tank-asses." The proper weighing man weighs in. I'm thirsty--and there goes another warming liquid down my throat.
I mumble some "appreciate your bodies, you look great as you are" talk.
"I throw up to be skinny." She adds. Nobody reacts. Not news in this department. She got anorexia. He got body dysmorphia. She is bulimic. This one is on strict liquid diet. The other one hasn't touched sugar since they were in kindergarten.
"You do what you gotta do!" I throw my hands excitedly in the air watching that the nth drink in my hand doesn't spill; in my drunken haze it seemed to be the most appropriate answer.
Big mistake, people loved it; I stole the attention of the people on diets. I hug the Bailey's bottle - a friend within friends.
"Not everybody is like you. Some people have to work for it." They snarl at me.
"So how about that party tomorrow?!" I laugh drunkedly while downing some Irish Liqour down my throat. I secretely hate myself. I secretly but so openly hate parties. But she was right: not everybody is like me. Not everybody force feed themselves at least once a day. Not everybody sets an alarm to be alerted to eat; then set two other alarms, each to remind of the first alarm. My medications ruined me; I do not eat because I feel no hunger. I do not eat because most of the food has no taste. I do not eat because whatever I eat tastes like metal. I do not eat because the moment I eat, I feel sick. I eat super spicy food because it reminds that once food tasted. Yea, wouldn't you just love that?
1:32 a.m. - October 22, 2009
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
previous - next
|