What were we *thinking?* No more drugs for my boy...

Wow. I have... SO much... to tell you guys.
I honestly don't know where to begin.
I kind of like (read: really love) writing in random, all-over-the-place little spurts of information, no awkward attempts at flowery segues because I'm just not focused enough to do anything but say exactly what's on my mind right now. Please excuse the lack of revision, proofreading, or artful language. Thank you.

First order of business... Holy shitmonkeys (yes, Calla, I stole that from you! :P) 56 followers??? THAT, my lovelies, just made my day. :D Thank you so much! I am speechless. You're wonderful.

Speechless never lasts long for me. :P Moving on...


So. Um...First of all, I've eaten a lot today. Already. And I'm sitting here in all of my fatness and knee pain and sedentary laziness thinking I have absolutely NO room to talk about my scale, or my ass, or my steadily growing thighs, because I'm not doing anything to stop the gain. Not right now, I'm not. I find this to be, in a nutshell, the result of (a) depression and lack of motivation, (b) inability to get five minutes to myself...no baby sitter or daycare on weekends, but mostly (c) the aforementioned knee pain. It's only gotten worse, but I have an appointment on Tuesday, so we'll see what the good doctors have to say about my meniscus, or whatever it is that I've managed to injure.

For some reason, I feel this anticipation like I'm going to go in, get poked, prodded, and x-rayed, and then get some kind of diagnosis, and then leave immediately to the nearest gym to work my ass off. This is illogical. Just because I have an appointment on Tuesday does NOT mean that I'll be able to resume my normal daily workout routine that same day. In fact, I need to face the very real possibility that I'll be asked to refrain from strenuous activity or unnecessary usage of that leg for a while...Fuck, exercise is NOT unnecessary. It is vital. I need it. I can not allow myself to gain any more than I have over the past few weeks. Yeah, I was at 131. And yes, I'm now at 134. May not seem like a big difference...oh, but it IS! Because it was like pulling teeth to get to 131. And so easy to mess it all up. MOVING on...

Don't give up on me here, ladies. Please stick with me; I know this post will be on the longer side, but man, do I have a STORY for YOU.

Okay, so let's just get to the pictures I took really quickly of my super-cute outfit. Yes, I managed to feel beautiful, and it was nice. I tried to take pictures last night, but none of them came out, so I have some that I took this morning (same outfit, explanation behind that to come in a few paragraphs):




I apologize for the shitty quality of the pics, but hey, it's just me and a camera phone, you know? I gotta make do with what I got. ;)

All right, so check it. This was my night. I will try not to be too terribly long-winded.

I spent all day yesterday eating very little in anticipation of an AMAZING pre-Valentine's dinner with K. We couldn't find a sitter for tonight, on Valentine's Day itself, so we decided Saturday evening would work well enough. I also spent the better part of the afternoon searching for the most romantic and highly rated restaurants downtown. Income tax return was nice, and it hit my account a few days ago, so I told him the evening was on me. I wanted to feel classy, and more than that, for ONCE in my life, I wanted to pretend money was not an object. I wanted to go to a fancy schmancy restaurant and dress up like a princess and feel AWESOME and eat amazing, exotic, expensive food and at midnight, I'd come back to real life, pick up the little one, and head home. Simple enough, right? It's not every day (or ANY day) that we get to do something like this. I was stoked.

We go back to my place from his so I can change, and as I'm getting ready in my room, I overhear my uncle (with whom I'm staying while I'm in school, in case you guys didn't know) talking with K. He's in there trying to get my boyfriend stoned. Seriously?! Why. Why? K has never been high in his entire LIFE, why must you make tonight be the time that we try this? I took a deep breath, realized it wasn't a huge deal, and that if anything, maybe he'd have a little more fun, right? Let's see the good in it. Maybe I'll even hit it a couple times myself, and then we'll go, and the food will be that much more delicious (because by this point I'd decided that I was going to enjoy this food, goddamnit, and worry about the consequences later).

I got ready, came out into the living room and we got a little high. Fine. Then I'm standing in the kitchen and realizing that I'm not even hungry anymore. But I have to be hungry, we're going to have sushi, damn it! At the fanciest, most awesomely highly acclaimed Japanese restaurant in town! And K is just smashed. He's really slow in his reaction time and he's not hungry either. Fan-damn-tastic. I'm thinking, "I've paid $25 for a sitter tonight AND tons of time on my sexy-as-hell outfit and makeup, we're going somewhere."

We get in the car and I realize, much to my chagrin, that I am now fully impaired. My feet can't remember which pedal is the gas and which is the clutch, and I nearly tried starting the car *again* while it was already running. Frustrated with myself, I get out of the car to allow K to take my spot, and we drive into the tiny, much less glamorous and exciting downtown of my neighborhood, instead of into town. Awesome. Not.

Figuring I should try to make the best of this, we head into the only sit-down restaurant in town (a little Italian joint) and I order the very dirty martini I've been wanting for ages. It was delicious and strong. I sipped it slowly, allowed my eyes to trace the lines of my perfectly manicured fingers and down my slim wrists, decorated with silver and sparkly jewels.. and tried to imagine myself a lady of high society. I smiled at K and he smiled back and suddenly, all of this was okay. Not amazing, not incredible, but we were going to make it our own.

I went all out. Fried calamari with marinara sauce, spicy chicken and penne alfredo, bread with olive oil, and half a tiramisu for dessert. GOD, I've been wanting tiramisu forever. It was so very difficult, even with my mind all messed up, to keep that ana voice from my head...Stop, I would say to myself. Stop counting the calories. Enjoy the fuck out of this food, it's delicious and it's a special occasion, and just stop.

We left, not able to tell if we were full or still hungry, even though I knew by looking at my empty plate that I had to be full. As we approached the car, K took my hand and pulled me in close for one of those unexpected, but oh-so-passionate "I wantyouneedyouNOW kisses"... Allow me to say that he's not usually the type to talk dirty...In fact, he never is. ONLY when he's inebriated do his inhibitions go into hiding, and even then it's pretty mild. The kiss was hard and fast and hot and then..."All I can think about right now is how bad I want to fuck you..."

Holy shit. I wasn't even thinking about that yet, babe, but... I definitely am now.

I considered our options quickly. The weed was finally wearing off and my thoughts were somewhat clear. His apartment was a twenty minute drive. My house was out, since my uncle was there. I felt wild and crazy and not myself, and I wanted to do something kinky and naughty and spontaneous; I guess I was still in "pretending to be someone else tonight" mode. I was fine with this.

"Let's get a hotel room!" I said, and he immediately said no. Ha...He's always thinking of money. Good. Because I need that voice of reason, and often. But no, tonight, I wanted this. I didn't care that I was paying to get a room only ten minutes from where I lived...it was the craziness of it all that I craved, the seediness, the sudden, unplanned and reckless NEED to be alone so we could ravage one another, tearing clothing off faster than we could think, and doing what we both love to do to each other, for each other, in a place completely foreign to us... I convinced him, and I bought the room for the night, a king-sized master-suite at the Holiday Inn. God, that room was gorgeous! Totally made my night. Completing my fantasy of being someone else, someone rich, someone glamorous and classy and carefree. Even the simple act of tossing my purse casually to the floor as I flicked on the lights...I felt like an actress. Acting in a different woman's 4-inch heels. The plush carpet felt good between my toes when I kicked off my pumps, and the sofa was firm and luxurious and new beneath me. The bed was amazing. Gigantic mahogany headboard...crisp white linens under the thick down comforter...So lovely. It felt magical.

I pulled K into bed and we were naked instantly. I couldn't wait to try out the lip ring. Yeah, I hadn't done that yet. It's been healing, after all.

It works great.

(Ha! While I'm thinking that's probably too much info, I'm also thinking that those of you who have stuck with me through this monster entry probably don't mind the nitty-gritty details all that much.) ;)

So that happened, and then everything went crazy.

K had started shivering a little when we got to the hotel, but I figured he was just cold. Now he was just shaking. Trembling, hard, uncontrollably, and there was this scary expression in his eyes. I held him tightly and asked him how he felt, but he couldn't put his thoughts into words without shaking more violently, so I just "shhh'd" him and stroked his hair the way he likes and tried to hold him down hard enough to stop the shivers...His body was just wracked with this extreme tension, which would release itself in these miniature seizure-like bursts of energy, and then it would subside for a few seconds and he would breathe in, and be still. I could tell it took an enormous amount of concentration for him to stop it, and it was apparent, too, that the shivering worsened when he allowed his mind to wander back to whatever frightening thoughts were racing through his head. He felt warm to the touch, but as a mother, I've got this built-in fever detector device in the core of my being, so I could tell his temp wasn't any higher than about 100. All the same, it was elevated and this, coupled with the violent trembling, of course, worried me more than I could let on.

"How do you feel right now?" I asked. I wanted to get in his head, find out what it was that I was up against. "I just feel...really weirded out. Scared. Negative. It feels like every thought I try to think is being crushed by this..." he began shaking so hard that he couldn't finish his thought and I stopped him. Asking him to describe it was apparently not a good idea.

I started humming to him, singing the hymns that my mom would sing to me when I was sick as a child. Little B loves those songs. As long as I was singing into his neck, the crook behind his ear, and holding him tightly, his breathing was slow and constant, and the shaking was minimal. When he would start to break into it again, I would get firm and tell him that there was nothing that could harm him here, that he was safe with me, and that I would NEVER let anything bad happen to him. He was so... scared. Paranoid. Terrified. He said later that it felt like he would be that way forever, and that at one point he was almost sure he was going to die. God, I've NEVER seen anyone react that way to marijuana. Seriously. I'm sure it happens...I'm thinking I should do a little research on it...but this happened hours after he smoked. He didn't have any alcohol at the restaurant. He's always had really bad problems with sleep, and hasn't been getting much rest at all lately, but I'm not certain if that had anything to do with this episode. It was so intense, so scary. I made sure he saw me calm throughout all of it; I was prepared to call 911 at any moment, but I didn't tell him this. It only would've panicked him more in the moment.

"You're fine, babe. You're going to be okay, I *promise*..." I don't know how many times I repeated those words, or how shaky my own voice was as I swore that, over and over again, my own body vibrating along with his as he convulsed in rhythmic, rapid trembling. About two hours after all of it had started, he was silent, and still. I turned on the television and this seemed to help, for some reason, even though it was just infommercials and HGTV. I figured it would remind him of home. We laid awake for quite a while afterwards, and he seemed a ton better by the time I nodded off. I had gone to pick up B earlier, and she was asleep on a pallet on the floor, and everything felt okay enough for me to rest. I was more than spent.

I woke at 5 and he was still awake. I felt horrible for leaving him, even though I had been right there next to him the whole time. He said he felt lonely. Yes. My heart tore a little. I hugged him harder and tried to stay awake, but woke up at 7 again to find that he'd finally dropped off. B woke me up and reminded me of the amazing hotel breakfast I'd promised her the night before. Ah yes. Food. You always come back to destroy me.

And here we return to the first part of this post. I have eaten A LOT of food today. Hotel breakfasts are the devil. Why? Because you pay $117 to stay there for less than 8 hours and you want your money's worth (same reason we're sure to take all of the little travel sized shampoo and conditioner bottles home with us, even when we have plenty of those same products at home...am I right? :P). Also, because you still have that vacation mindset going on. Like you don't have to exactly follow all the rules because you're not home. Whatever the reasons, I ate. Cinnamon roll, raisin bran, yogurt, biscuit, and eggs. Coffee. Oatmeal. I essentially binged right there in front of my daughter and the love of my life, but in a controlled, socially acceptable manner. It was a controlled binge, but still completely out of control. Sigh... And all I can think about is chocolate. Yeah.

Okay, you've suffered enough. :P I can't believe I wrote that much, and I'll find it even more hard to believe that any of you will make it all the way through this and live.

Thanks for listening.. I'm off to either do some jumping jacks or binge some more. Honestly, I could go either way. I'm kind of numb at this point. Project Self-Destruction by Way of Food 2010 is still in full force, apparently.

Love you all immensely. <3