Olive my dinner - get it??

Last Wednesday, I made a goal; a noble goal, I might add. I decided that since the average American gains between 7 and 10 pounds during the holidays - look it up, it's true. Google doesn't lie - I wanted to gain my 7 on Thanksgiving day.

I woke up the next morning, ready for the challenge. I went running (kinda) and used the bathroom before I jumped on the scale. I was exactly 90 pounds. My goal: to be 97 pounds before I retired that night. By the way, this is my real weight, obviously.

I starved myself that whole morning, ready to feast after the prayer had been said and all of the delicious festive foods were blessed. At my aunt's house, I was delighted to indulge/binge on mashed potatoes and gravy, turkey with cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, candied yams, corn, a vegetable tray, and hot rolls. After stuffing myself with these foods, I knew that I was well on my way. I packed up SEVEN different kinds of pie to take home and eat later (most likely the moment I arrived home).

I jumped on the scale and was happy about the 5.6 pounds I had gained. So close! I feasted on those pies - lemon meringue, pumpkin, chocolate mouse, razzleberry, yum!!! - and drank a lot of water. When I felt like I was so full that I could hibernate for the next several weeks, I trudged up the stairs to my bathroom and pulled out the white scale. I did a quick step (not too quick, I was carrying some food baby weight, obviously) onto the scale until it read 0.0 and hopped on (once again, not really a hop, more of a hobble).

96.4! Though I hadn't quite made my goal, I was proud of myself and went to bed feeling happy and full. Then I woke up.

The wakeup was less than pleasant as I was in fetal position, wrapping my arms around my aching belly. I cursed myself for eating the weight of a small child in food. I committed to never eating again. I cried that it's wasn't worth it. I begged for the stabbing pain to stop.

I ran to my bathroom but didn't make it to the toilet. The sink did just fine. I kept the water running as I heaved and retched into the porcelain basin. And then I felt a little better. I returned to my bed where I couldn't sleep so instead I watched episodes of "Melissa and Joey". I actually have it open in another tab right now, waiting for me to press play. Good show. My dear, sweet Courtney brought me Pepto, applesauce, crackers and sprite and showed me the pity I wan....deserved.

Finally, it was over. I pulled my body out of my bed and went to the bathroom to clean my nasty a mouth and brush the stomach acid out of my teeth. I looked down into my sink and saw something black that was stuck, that wouldn't go past the sink stopper (is that what it's called?). I had no choice but to reach my right hand toward the object and use my index finger and thumb and pinch it out of it's jammed place. I gagged as I realized that it was an almost whole olive that didn't quite make it down. Grossss.

Needless to say, I'm back to my 90 pounds. All for nothin'