Food hangovers exist! More specifically, ice cream hangovers. What’s the cure for an ice cream hangover? More ice cream. I broke the seal, now I’m stuck riding the frozen dairy train until it dumps me off with my pancreas in tatters.
I like food…nay, I LOVE food. Owning a gut that wants nothing to do with digesting all of the crap I throw at it is tragic. Still, I’ve got serious portion distortion. If I serve someone the same amount of food that I’ve piled onto my own plate, they sit there wide-eyed and bewildered. I eat a lot (when I can eat). Sometimes I eat even when I can’t (I’ve got a running list of foods that taste decent while being harfed up), and sometimes I eat to soothe myself (see ’14/’15).
Lately, I’ve been good about eating small amounts of calorie dense food frequently, rather than stuffing myself and crying in the fetal position because of it for 6 hours. It ain’t workin’. The weight is stealthily disappearing. It’s probably not healthy to yo-yo 20 pounds in either direction several times a year, but I’m not healthy, so there you have it.
Fall has been hell on my ass cushioning and it wasn’t until my admission that I realized I had lost another stone and am now firmly planted in the underweight category. What’s a girl to do? Why, buy three pints of ice cream, of course. And two quarts of frozen custard before the shop closed up for the winter. Totally disregard the matter of lactose intolerance. We don’t have time for that.
Last night I had a half a pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, then floated off into a nice little sugar coma. This morning I awoke with a pounding headache and the entire pillow side of my face swollen. I’m scheduled to leave for Cleveland in three hours, but I’m just not feeling it with my gurgling guts and sloshy head. Was it worth it? You bet your balls, it was. Ice cream therapy is totally worth the hangover. Sorry MC, I temporarily dumped you for frozen sweetened cow juice.