For some reason, these lunchbox favorites
remind me of what, maybe, bulimics would buy in one of their junk food sprees. Even the shiny cellophane wrappers that are just a little to hard to open, the synthetic texture of processed sugar
they have. When I bite into a brownie, I even feel
like a bulimic.
My ex, ex roommate was a closet bulimic. I had heard from her friends that it was something she used to have, but they weren't sure she wasn't back at it. Neither was I. I looked for clues. She seemed to have way too many citrus cold lozenges and vitamins in her medicine cabinet. Her face was always broken out and her teeth were unusually yellowed for a non-smoker. But still, Carol was psycho. She once left me in Atlanta for a week when hurricane Georges threatened to blot New Orleans off the map (we were en route to evacuate), simply because I kissed a guy she had been stalking for almost a year, a guy who did not like her back. She eventually came back to get me, but afterwards, I kept my distance, waiting to see where I could move to next.
But one night, I woke up at 2 am to the sound of mild gagging coming from the bathroom. Flush. Teeth being brushed. I felt this ball in my stomach. I knew I had to say something. When I did, she totally denied it, or rather, denied that bulimia was a problem. She said that her body was just so used to it that now, she can throw up without even wanting to. She then jumped into her Calvinist banter about how God only lets her go so far, but He always pulls her back, as though she's on some spiritual leash or something.
I remember working at a Rose's store when I was in college, and how the senior citizens would buy up generic Little Debbie's on the one day a week they got their 10% discount for their age. I tried some once, and I realized two things: 1) the use of that white sugar fluff was just way overdone and 2) they really made the 30 cent difference seem pretty pointless. They tasted like shit.