My cold symptoms have subsided, and left in their wake a continuing pattern of nausea, which makes me feel great in that twisted way.  My appetite was really shot, until yesterday afternoon, when I had my first undeniable craving yet.

It was for Jax. I went to Shaw’s, and really tried NOT to buy them, I TRIED, but the whole reason I rallied myself into pants was to go to Shaw’s and get Jax… I thought that maybe if I had my grocery list, I could stave off the need, but no. It failed. I thought maybe I’d be okay with Pirate’s Booty, or hell, even the natural cheetos, but no. I had to have Bachman’s Jax Cheese Puffs. And they were fucking delicious.

I haven’t had any sort of cheese puff in ages, I don’t think I’ve even had Pirate’s Booty since we moved into this house 17 months ago.  I’m not a chip person, I’m a chocolate one. But hot damn, Jax were like manna from heaven yesterday.

Today I’m craving sushi — avocado rolls, and alaska maki to be precise.  I’m pretty sure they would be safe to eat, as it’s veggies and cooked salmon, but I can’t get it tonight. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe? God, I would love it.

On the flip side, food can totally disgust me.  I went to the Union for lunch today, and ended up with some breadsticks and a giant bowl of fruit salad and cottage cheese and granola.  I wonder if the Union employees wonder what my deal is — in undergrad, I was there all the time, I’ve been there several times this year (almost daily) but my old habits of sashaying in, making myself a salad, or maybe getting some quiche, checking out, making small talk and finding a table are long gone.  Now, i walk in, after forcing myself to leave my lab by convincing myself I can handle the smells, and start circling.  I can smell the shrimp n the corn chowder from a mile away (and who the HELL puts shrimp in corn chowder? They need to cut that shit out.) and I can smell the burgers at the grill station.  I literally circle several times — do I want a grilled cheese? Is there quiche? No? Well what is there? Veggies aug gratn? GAG.  Do they have tofu on the salad bar? No. Do I want a salad then? No. I’ll get fruit. Fruit will be good. Yes, fruit. MMMmmmm, with fresh pineapple, yes, that’s good. But I need something else, something — bready. Sandwich? Shit, the premades are all coldcuts and tuna. But if I can’t have those what kind do I want? and there’s a line, and that guy stinks. Breadsticks, yes, that will do. Breadsticks.  I fumble for my card, can hardly talkbecause I’m so queasy, and then I sit down and eat with absolutely no enthusiasm.  If you saw me eating, you’d probably think I’m in mourning.  And then there’s The Bite. 

When I used to drink, there was The Drink. The one sip that an alarm went off in my head that said "This is the last one. If you continue, you will suffer mightily. If you stop now, you will enjoy your buzz and the rest of the evening." The Bite is the same thing. I’ll be eating along, and I know, that right then, I need to stop. Even if I paid for the fruit salad by weight, and it’s wasting money, I need to stop. Now. I’ve gottenmuch better at listening to that voice.

School is going well, otherwise. I find my nausea kicks in at the time I should leave in order to secure a parking spot on campus, and if I wait til 11, the nausea has passed (well, the worst of it) and I can also find a parking place. I think I’m going to listen to this too, and set my office hours monthly instead of semester-ly.  If my hours in October are all afternoon, I won’t feel as guilty about watching Ellen from a prone position every day.  Plus, hopefully by November I’ll be past the worst of it, right?