Several months ago, on a balmy February eve just before Valentine’s day, I found myself doubled over in pelvic pain at Bob & Betty’s on Franklin Avenue and Eastern Parkway. I wanted to buy carrots and hummus to bring to Rikki’s apartment. We were supposed to watch a movie. I say “supposed to” because the movie never actually got watched, on account of the fact that I overflowed Rikki’s toilet. We spent two hours scooping brown water into a bucket and rolling the bucket down Eastern Parkway on a bellhop cart in search of a sewer drain. Luckily we didn’t have to roll the cart that far, but the fact that we had to do this across any amount of distance at all felt like too far. We returned to the apartment where Mandy and Kayo had attempted to watch Dances with Wolves. “Is it over?” they asked with traumatized expressions.
I don’t remember what else transpired that night, I just felt very bad for what I had done to my friends and collapsed on the carpet in a fetal position nibbling a piece of cheese and a girl scout cookie. I felt bad because even though it was unintentional (for the record I AM a sociopath but I care too much about appearances and my butthole to intentionally have diarrhea, ever) it was the first time in months I’d experienced any modicum of mental clarity, and I feared it was the beginning of a relapse into bulimic behavior. Months later I can say that premonition was absolutely correct.
This episode was 100% a result of a very popular sugar free mint I’d consumed only a few hours prior. I was at work and didn’t want to be. I was looking forward to a relaxed evening but in the moment did not wish to be present in body or mind. That afternoon I’d torn apart the supply closet in search of keys to someone’s private terrace, and instead found a nearly unlimited supply of sugar free mints. Immediately delighted, I took a tin from the package of 100 other tins and brought it back to my desk. This tin of mints would be great company for the rest of the day that I did not want to be present for, I thought. This tin of mints would distract me from the spreadsheet hell that had begun to overshadow my existence.
Honestly, that afternoon of devouring mints was the happiest I’d been in weeks. Maybe months. I was working a 12-step program that made me hate myself, with a sponsor who demanded I call her every goddamn day or else. The worst part of my day was calling her, and I called her every day for six months, which amounted to countless hours of abject misery reflecting on all the flaws and defects that rendered me an addict and apparent ego maniac. Since returning to the hell scape of a desk job to interact with people against my will, I’d found that particularly unbearable. The mints were a welcome escape and I ate them into oblivion. I very consciously told myself it wasn’t a binge because it was a substance with no calories. I’m basically just eating air, I thought, and you can’t binge on air!!! I ate the whole tin, anticipating zero consequences.
Shitting in a dear friend’s toilet to the point of implosion was definitely a lesson in humility. I’ve stayed away from sugar free mints ever since, even though a tiny part of me always wishes to have d****** just for the sake of feeling ‘cleaned out’. The other day I found myself in a similar headspace at work, panicking over the submission of an Upper East Side coop application for a pair of Columbia Law School graduates who definitely think I am 12 years old. I was triggered, to say the least, and wanted to binge on something to take my mind off the horrific task of redacting their tax returns, whether it was food, booze, dick, or gum. Since the first three options would have rendered me unproductive, I chose gum. And since it was gum and not mints, I thought, since it really is like chewing on air, it would not do anything to me. So I chewed 55 pieces of yes, sugar free gum, really believing (or maybe not believing at all) that this would not have any adverse effects. Hours later, in the bathroom at Blink fitness, my intestines liquefied, and I was once again sorry for what I had done.
Just because something has zero calories doesn’t mean it won’t fuck you up for life!