Okay, first off, I am not bulimic. But apparently, if I was, this is how you could tell: my eyeballs would be totally bloodshot and I would have tiny red dots all around my eyes from blood vessels erupting from the strain of making myself gag forcefully.
I now know this because I just ate a bite of undercooked pork (which is otherwise fabulous; Husband may not always cook meat long enough, but he sure knows how to make it yummy), and with my recent history of multiple food poisonings, I tend to be a little on the paranoid side when it comes to consuming undercooked white meat of any kind. So you can bet I’m going to do everything I can think of to avoid coming down with another case of dysentery on Thanksgiving eve. And the only thing I could think to do, after popping my plate in the microwave for several minutes, was to force it back up. I failed, by the way, only succeeding in giving myself major facial and eyeball strain, and now I just get to cross my fingers and pray that a single bite of red pork won’t kill me or, at the very least, make me wish I was dead. Or come between me and my ability to enjoy pie, which…same diff, really.
At any rate, consider this a public service announcement on how to tell if your very pale friend has just purposefully upchucked her dinner. Carry on.