I think I’d be okay if I never ate again. I need to be checked into detox and I feel like I just had my last bird binge before I am forced to go into withdrawal. Disgusting. I really just want to go to the gym and return to my routine of normalcy, but I’m afraid my ass cheeks will hang out of my running shorts and there will be more jiggle than cranberry Jell-O. Sick. I’m contemplating just continuing this lifestyle of eating and watching movies and football and think I can buy a couch that will last me for at least a few years, giving me some time to grow. When the couch is smaller than my ass, then I will know it is time to order a new one. “Stop judging me,” I’d say, my mouth full of potato chips, “I ran a marathon.”
