Thinner Thumbs and Blomiting

Thumbs UP to Bidding Farewell to Fat Pants.

A week ago I was thrilled to discover my freshly washed Phase 3 Fat Pants were sagging. Today I’m in Phase 4 FP, which is down another size on the "Savant Scale of Fat Pantery."

[a moment of silence and/or a single tear falls slowly and/or cue victory anthem]

I shared my excited news with Jellay (“Mrs. Jelly Belly” to you).

I said to Jellay, I said, “Jellay,” I said, “You know what I think rekindled my weight loss?” I said.
(I like to imagine at this point she asked, “What Kel? WHAT triggered your weight loss?” [It was an email.] I imagine that she added some stuff about longing to hear my pearls o’ wisdom, and that I looked thinner indeed.)

I went on to explain:

We went to the Golden Corral last week Wednesday (AKA the Golden Calf; Canaan).
They were out of liver.
Out. Of liver.
I know.
[silence...tear...music again]

I LOVE liver and ignorance is bliss.

So my third plate [the first two being assorted MEAT that I picked up while circling the empty Liver Trough] was mashed potatoes and a blur of other starches. I believe there was mac 'n cheese, cuz I love GC's mac 'n cheese.

My fourth plate was something covered in frosting. Several somethings covered actually, in frostings and fillings and CHOC-OMG-LATE.

I didn't sweat and shake like I sometimes do with a Big Cheat like that, which makes my bloated self doubly attractive.
I joked with Mr. Savant that perhaps I flipped the Skinny Switch.
Perhaps...

Does my theory hold water?

Jellay (Mrs. JB to you) said, “Yes,” followed by some smart stuff about how it worked in an email which I’ve lost,
(but if I shared that email here it’d be more about Jellay [MJB2U] and less about me, and you know I don’t roll like that.)

Thumbs UP to weight loss brought on by eating like a pig. Who’s with me? And how often must I make that sacrifice?

Thumbs DOWN to roaring tinnitus, raging vertigo, vomiting bile.

I’ve never been as sick as I was on Tuesday. Never in My Life. I’d rather give birth. To a Third Grader.

I’ve had Ménière's disease for over 15 years. This flare was The Worst.

I have tinnitus often, hearing loss always, vertigo occasionally and have vomited bile only once. Several times actually; on Tuesday.

I barfed so hard my legs hurt. I couldn’t lift my head (because of the vertigo), so I slept with my face on the toilet, curled up in the tiny space, cramping. Both of my arms fell asleep, but the mere act of spitting out the yukky taste triggered the Technicolor Yawn all over again so I remained immobile, but for the eleventy episodes of Yelling Lunch into the White Throne. For an hour and a half.

Total time of my world spinning whilst I Whistled Beef; 4 hours. I was Shouting Groceries for an added 2.5 hours whilst lying on the floor of our bedroom, drenched in sweat and shivering uncontrollably.

Puking and sleep are the only “remedy” to a flare like this. Thumbs UP to valium, meclizine, and Ambien, not necessarily a bad combo, despite the label warnings. (What? I could die? At this point I’m just not skeered.)

What happens after you dry heave for 20 minutes? You vomit bile, and It’s Remarkable.
After the most Grueling Horrific Hours of my Entire Life "Bingo the Wonder Fail" came in to express his Wimpathies. He took one whiff o’ my breath and said, “Yum. You smell like homemade dogfood. I think you vomited a** Mom.”

On the bright side, Talking to Ralph on the Porcelain Phone burned some calories. It worked my abs, for sure, and my legs, which for some not-funny-then-but-funny-now-reason spasmed hard every time I heaved.

I got rid of an entire meal while Practicing to be a SuperModel (the downside of which is the resultant association and inability to ever, EVER eat that again, ever.)

Thank the small g god of the Porcelain Altar that it wasn’t liver.

Gimme sympathy.