Yes, I Eat Out of the Trashcan

So I've been enjoying this post by Lauren about dropping the love bomb.

I wanted to reply with a story of my own, but I actually don't remember the first time that Thomas and I said "I love you." We discussed it last night, but all we could come up with was, "Maybe it was at Lula's?" Sad.

(P.S. I just ate fake chocolate. It took 17 minutes for my body to figure it out. Uh oh.)

What we did remember was a very funny incident from the first couple of months that we were dating:

I eat a lot. I mean A LOT. I really think I could enter food eating contests and win. This is not something that I generally like to reveal to my significant other right off the bat. It does not seem feminine to reveal that you could eat 3 times the meal that he just put away.

So one night, Thomas brought home food from Checkers. To the best of our recollection, it was chicken fingers and fries. I ate my portion nicely (or at the speed of light, depending on your perspective) and waited while Thomas picked at his food in a leisurely manner. Finally, it appeared he would eat no more. Would I reach over and eat the food? Should I request the leftover food? Should I clear the table and eat it on the way to the kitchen? These and other options I pondered while Thomas put his uneaten food back in the Checkers' bag and threw it away. THREW IT AWAY!

So I did what any self-respecting person would do. I waited until he left the room, got it out of the trash and ate it.

Except he came back and caught me at it.

Thereafter, we were at a gas station and Thomas was going in. He asked me if I needed anything and I said no. He asked if I was sure. Yes, I said, I'm sure. He walked toward the gas station and stopped at the trashcan, pointing at it and looking at me as if to say, "Anything from in there you want?" Bastard.

To this day he'll still tease me about it.

My Stomach is Seceding from the Union

I don't know if it's this INSANE weather, or what, but my internet (that's my internet, not your internet) is really slow tonight. This always makes me freaked out and paranoid that I've gotten a virus.
I don't have a virus. Right?

Also, at lunchtime today, I consumed a small amount of fake chocolate. And we all know what this means: for the last 7 hours, my body has been in frantic EJECT mode. I don't know why I continue to eat the fake chocolate.

Actually, that is a total lie. I know exactly why I continue to eat the fake chocolate: because it is the only chocolate I can have, and sometimes, you just need chocolate. Even if it will haunt you for almost 24 hours. Hey, it could be worse, right? I could be wearing the chocolate like a floatation device for the next two years. Instead I get to rid myself of it immediately, along with anything else I might have eaten in recent history.

As has been previously documented, I suffer from a severe weakness for pizza. I consider myself a paragon of virtue when I do not eat two pizzas in one sitting. Pizza is the only food that I allow myself to cheat with (excepting situations in which politeness is the rule, or when one or two french fries accidentally fall into my mouth at high speeds) but when I declare pizza day, dude, pizza day is on.

Mostly I try to eat all my pizza at once, to save myself from the hideous temptation of left over pizza. But sometimes I pretend to be a paragon of virtue and then come home from work the next day to be a total depraved idiot. Recently I did this and as I suffered a great deal of remorse, I thought....fake chocolate. If I eat the fake chocolate, all this will be gone. (See what I mean about synthetic foods breeding new and improved eating disorders?) I struggled for a few moments over this moral dilemma and then quickly ate two handfuls of fake m&m's.

Nothing happened.

Apparently, if you consume a great deal of bread and fat before eating the fake chocolate, it renders the chocolate impotent.

Good on the eating disorder front--Bad on the front in which I just ate pizza and then chocolate.