Heeeey, I'm back!* This blog is about how to eat good on bitch money.

*This is a lie.

Monday, September 22, 2008

It's STILL not over.

Well, first of all, I don't think I will ever become a jockey.

I'm scared of horses, I'm too tall, and I am no good at spitting or hotbox. I didn't try flipping--there was nothing to flip--but I'd bet I'm pretty bad at that, too. Another career avenue closed.

I spent the weekend not eating and trying to give myself renal failure. WHY? Because they moved the weigh-in date up to Monday. Today. Another two days of bending abruptly from the waist to get my head below my knees so as to avoid passing out cold in the grocery store (where I was buying not groceries of course but "Smart Water." It has calorie-free electrolytes!!!). Another two days of not being able to do more than one flight of stairs without a rest or lift heavy things like my car keys.

This morning I awoke at 4:30 and prepared my weigh-in outfit by cutting off all labels and any unnecessary decorative elements. (There weren't any.) Then, since the weather is deliciously cool, today, and thus I can't do poorman's hotbox by sitting in my rubber raincoat in my car with all the windows rolled up in the noonday sun,
I put on my winter silk underwear under some flannel pajamas and layered several blankets on the bed and tied a thick babushka sort of thing over my head and climbed in to roast for a few hours before it was time to go to work. I raised my heart rate by listening to a little NPR about the Mother of All Bailouts. At eight I arose and threw away all the bedding, pausing several times to bend at the waist to avoid unconsciousness. I prepared a simple breakfast of: nothing and drove to work, practicing "spitting" on the way.

Spitting is disgusting, so I won't describe it, but it traditionally involves Jolly Ranchers. They didn't have any normal Jolly Ranchers at the grocery store, just the hot cinnamon kind, and I'm pretty sure you need citric acid to do it right, so I used some "country time lemonade" lozenges I got at the Big Lots. Worked fine, but I had trouble keeping it up longterm. Because it's nauseating.

In fact, this is the most disgusting thing I have ever done.

As a rule I don't like to tell people what to do*, but I'm just going to come out and say this: Don't ever do this crap. Never never never no matter what. Trying to get into a wedding dress by June? Get a bigger wedding dress. Want to be a jockey? Be a really short guy. Do not do this thing that I have done.

Finally, champ, if you're here trying to find out how to give yourself renal failure, forget about it--that's not the sort of coveted information you can get online for free.

*That's a huge lie.

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