We are living in a time when vomiting and a strange rash makes people uncomfortable

Go Figure.

No, for the love of GOD I do not have the fucking swine flu. But you know what, I wouldn't mind the swine flu - at least I'd have a diagnosis and an excuse to lie in bed all day wearing a mask and looking mysterious. And itchy.

But no. I can only dream of having a name for the seventh level of hell I am currently inhabiting. However, I have to say, it's not all bad. Amidst my puking, I managed to completely eliminate the paunchy belly I was so worried about. Silly Me ! And, just *think* of the money I have saved this Cinco de Mayo - the most festive of the holy days of alcohol binging. Bonus - the unidentified skin rash ? Is reminding me of how lovely my skin *usually* is, which will lead to me appreciating it more later on, when it returns to it's usual petal-like state. Because it will. Yes it will. Oh Yes It Will. But until it does, I am pretty much persona non grata in the great big world out there. I mean, would you want to hang with someone who alternates between scratching that suspicious rash on her neck, and sticking her entire head in the toilet and hanging on for dear life? Me neither.

But friends - true friends - are always there for you. I am relieved to say that my friends have all worked hard to keep me distracted and entertained, calling and laying on with all sorts of personal angst and drama. It's almost as though they have risen to the challenge of my boredom, coming up with new levels of douche-baggery to report, dissect, and hash out over the phone. Better then a soap opera, these people, which is why I keep them around. Strictly for my entertainment.

In other news, the gym is going just swimmingly. I actually worked out with my personal trainer on Monday despite my questionable health. Though in retrospect, given the swiftly changing state of affairs vis a vis my newly svelte figure (due to the vomitous nature of my weekend) I could have forgone the session - or at least put it off - until I was back on my feed. Not feet, people, FEED. As in FOOD.

Because what it all comes down to is this. I have not eaten since Friday afternoon without puking and/or suffering excruciating stomach cramps. It's now Tuesday night. Today, I ate 1 bowl of rice, existed in utter misery for 8 hours, sipped on a coke throughout the day desperately trying to settle my stomach, and then ate a roll. I currently have the laptop pressed on my tummy, hoping that the heat will calm the roiling within. The roiling caused by, I guess, a roll. And this is day 5 - so trust me when I tell you it was worse a few days ago.

May I just say, this is completely unacceptable. My eating is just not for survival. I eat for my mental health. Eating is an activity in and of itself. I *PLAN* my eating. I *LOVE* my food. I do not diet. I do not fast. I do not count calories, or worry about fat content, or carbs, or cholesterol.

So this new no food thing? Sucks. I am hungry, but not starving. Which is TOTALLY FREAKING ME OUT. I am *always* hungry. Literally, always hungry. But it wouldn't matter if I *was* hungry, because no hunger is worth the pain caused by eating right now. I have made the mistake of eating several times each day since Saturday, when I stopped puking - and suffered tremendously as a consequence. So I am just going to sit here, and be vaguely hungry, but not hungry enough to really do anything besides loll about watching www.thedailyshow.com and harrassing old friends on Facebook.

And scratching. Oh the scratching.