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Dietary Moments of Note

This post is dedicated to Ms. B.B.S., of New York, since I ripped the title from a gmail chat with her.

Yesterday my stomach acids led a revolution against me. The sneaky buggers enlisted the aid of my proteases, and together they scooped up some hapless chyme and went on a roaring rampage back up into my esophagus, screaming, "Freeedooooom!!!" and making me go pale and clammy during a closed-door conference call in my boss' office. Desperate for a displacement activity, I drew this little gem in my notepad:

This means: 

In the past 14 hours, I consumed four glasses of red wine, three baked giant pork ribs, a deep-fried chicken drumstick, a deep-fried mystery item, and lots of leafy greens. Then I had two full glasses of water. 

The next day, I had my usual breakfast (cereal with blueberries and almonds, French press coffee, and a glass of water), and my usual snack (banana and tea).

Then I barfed.

After I was released back into the wild (cubicle), I called my mommy to ask her what to eat, since I felt like barfing, but needed something to not pass out. She told me I could have bland food, like crackers. I schlepped to the vending machine downstairs and bought what must be the tiniest bag of Wheat Thins in the known universe. The Wheat Thins were delicious and salty. They were my only meal of the day, until I got back home and polished off a whole thing of sinigang, or at least what my brother hadn't demolished by then.

Which brings us to today. My ambitious plan of creating soft tacos in the office didn't quite pan out as I intended in the deliciousness factor, because the soft taco shells were too floury. Nice try, Whole Foods. But no. And after lunch, I had the delightful task of analyzing potential client profiles, and I looked up a whole bunch of terms that I didn't know, like serum lipase and valproic acid and excoriation. The mind boggles. My favorite so far is ileostomy, and I should've known not to look it up while snacking because ick ick ick. In hindsight, the words leading up to it ("bag must be emptied," "bowel accidents," etc) should have been red flags, but if my with it! So...can...I!!!!!!

"Take their temperatures, men!"
The SpartaCare health plan features incredibly dedicated Direct Service Providers.
I sure hope that thermometer goes under an armpit or the tongue.

Well, I saved one last taco for a snack. I hope it stays down.

And so the eating saga continues...

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