*For background on this series please click here

There was a system. I had a system. I couldn’t just be one of those crazy bulimics that snuck down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to binge and purge. That was too messy and way too gross for me. Besides, what if there was nothing in the refrigerator that I wanted to binge on? Talk about annoying. So, I had a system. It was an expensive system, but that’s a whole other topic. When I think about all the money I spent on food that I only wasted, it makes me sick (no pun intended). The system was quite elaborate and depended on whether I was alone, what was in the refrigerator, did I have plans later that day, how much money did I have to spend, how much time would I have for the actual purge? All questions that needed to be answered beforehand so that I got it right. The only thing that could never be planned was how my body would react and whether it would actually stick to the plan.

It was a Saturday, so I had the whole day to do whatever I pleased. Days like that excited me because it meant that my binge would be pressure free. I didn’t have to be anywhere or talk to anyone, it would just be me and my misery. I was living alone which made things quite easy. Images of all the different food danced in my head as I counted my money to make sure I had enough. By this time, I had already learned (the hard way) which foods worked for me and which did not. By “worked” I don’t mean taste or flavor, sure it helps to like what you’re binging on, but most important was the texture and how easy it was to bring back up. Today there are internet sites that can help you with all this, but back then it was all trial and error. One wrong food down that won’t come back up is a bulimic’s worst nightmare, and I have lots of those stories. And today would be one of them. When I think about how I rationalized things back then, it seems crazy, but yet I can honestly remember feeling like it all made sense to me. Since I had the entire day to myself, I could go out on a limb and get some of those “off limit” foods because I had all day to try and bring them back up! Eventually they would have to come out, right?

First thing was an order to the Chinese food place. I made sure to order some food with broccoli in there just in case. If it doesn’t come back up, at least the broccoli is healthy! Delivery was going to take about 30 minutes so I got dressed and headed out to the corner store & diner. I got milk, water, doughnuts, cake, egg & bacon sandwich, home fries, pretzels & butter. These places carried no-no food that I previously had a lot of trouble with bringing back up, BUT today was going to be different for sure!

I made it back to my apartment in time for the Chinese food delivery guy. The order cost about $30, all my groceries $25, equaled a total binge worth $55. And this was only one binge. At my worst I got up to about 6-7 a day and had to make multiple trips to the supermarket.

Next up, was the ambiance. I needed everything set up and sprawled out so I could pick & eat freely, phone was turned off, pager was off (remember beepers?!), blinds pulled down, and TV on with a good program to keep me company.

And then I ate. And ate. And ate. I ate until my stomach looked like I was 7 months pregnant and it hurt to breathe from the pressure. This was the worst part. The euphoria of eating was wearing off and now I had to get it all out of me before any damage was done. I was not one of those “lucky” bulimics, I couldn’t just make myself throw up instantly (that would come months later), I had to work at it and it was painful. “Oh G-d, why did I do this again? Please oh please let it all come up this time!” And to the bathroom I would go to try to complete the ritual.

Depending on what was coming up, sometimes it splattered, so I had gotten in to the habit of taking all my clothes off and pulling back my hair. My nails should have been cut beforehand, but they hadn’t been. I had to be careful not to scratch the back of my throat (did I mention I was a singer?)

And so it began, first with a few fingers, and then soon an entire hand pushed back into my mouth and down my throat. Think it’s impossible to fit the entire hand? It’s possible. I pounded on my stomach with my left hand and I tried to shove my right hand deeper down my throat to make everything come up. This was a big binge so it would take a while. I knew everything that had gone inside of me, so I had to make sure it was all accounted for on its way out, nothing could be left behind.

45 minutes and 2 breaks later I still wasn’t done. Where were the doughnuts? What happened to the pretzels? I knew this would happen. Bread products were the worst because they turned into a thick pasty gluey mess in the stomach and were the hardest to bring back up. If taken in with the right amount of liquid, it could be ok, but this time my proportions were all wrong and now I was stuck.

The pounding on my stomach got harder and I tried to manipulate my gag reflex with precision. I stopped to give myself pep talks “you can do this”, “keep going” “you have to get it all out, you sick fuck!”

But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t all come up. I sat on the floor crying and trying to make a deal with G-D. “Please get me through this and bring it all up and I’ll never do it again. This is the last time, I promise.” And I truly did feel that way at the time, I wanted so bad for it to be the last time. My throat was sore, my face was swollen and my knuckles were cut from hitting the back of my teeth. The party was over and it was time to retreat.

Walking back into my living room I couldn’t even look at the mess I had left behind. Everything got dumped into the trash just like it never happened. And if I pretended hard enough, it didn’t. Next came a hot shower, always good for some imagined cleansing of the soul.

Binges this large made me sleepy, so I crawled into bed and clicked on the TV. A rerun of 90210, perfect. And before I Donna could lose her virginity, I was in la-la-land, sleeping my binge off.

By the time I awoke it was evening. My throat was incredibly sore. I had 4 messages on my machine and a bunch of pages. Funny how the sicker I got, the more invitations to parties I received. To me it was obviously complete validation that I was not really sick, but rather doing what was necessary.

What to do tonight? I thought. Meet the crew at the party going on or stay home and relax? I pretended to think about it, but I had already made up my mind.

There were still half eaten doughnuts, cake & a carton of Chinese food in the trash. I couldn’t possibly let that all go to waste.