12:39 a.m.

altered pussies and puppies

So, I've decided to whore out my body to medical research for the future generations.

And for cash.

But mostly for future generations. Mhmm.

So, I was looking into studies that are being done in Colorado and found a listing here for a bulimia study. I thought surely I should qualify for that.

Ages Eligible for Study: 18 Years and above
Genders Eligible for Study: Both


* Meet DSM-IV criteria for bulimia nervosa
* Not psychotic
* Not in other treatment

Not psychotic? Um...maybe they should do a little reading up on bulimia before starting medical studies.

"Oh, I just like to vomit up my food for fun. I don't have any mental issues, I'm completely normal."

Definition of psychosis:

psy·cho·sis (sī-kō'sĭs) pronunciation
n., pl. -ses (-sēz).

A severe mental disorder, with or without organic damage, characterized by derangement of personality and loss of contact with reality and causing deterioration of normal social functioning.

Ok, seriously? I don't know a bulimic that isn't all those things. It's not like I think I'm fucking Tinkerbell, but I'm definitely not in touch with reality, and I sure as hell don't function normally when it comes to interacting with society.

Who knew?! I'm psychotic - literally.

Well, maybe not anymore. I'm still hoping this happy personality and lack of self hatred sticks around a bit longer.

There are two cases from the vet clinic that I've been thinking about lately. They both involve people's pets being completely changed after undergoing a surgery. (Neither of them were neuters, because I know those definitely change pets' personalities.)

The first was a cat who underwent some sort of surgery for an abdominal mass. The cat was a normal cat, and a bit nervous before surgery, but nothing out of the ordinary. After surgery, it was like the cat was Satan itself. You couldn't go near it; it drew blood from several people post-op, and even the owner couldn't get it to calm down.

Sometimes anesthesia has that effect on animals immediately following surgery, so we didn't really think it was a problem. Then the owner kept calling and complaining that we ruined her cat. It had been months, and the cat hadn't gone back to it's normal personality. Apparently, it never did.

The dog has a similar story, but instead of turning evil, it started out somewhat aggressive. The owner says that it's a completely different dog now. Not bad - just different, and completely friendly and unaggressive to everyone.

Maybe I'm like the dog. Maybe some sort of chemical process happened in my head and I'm not the same evil person anymore.

Or, once again it could just be the OxyContin. If it's just the drugs, I can see why Rush Limbaugh got addicted.

I don't think I've ever felt more ok than I do now. Not euphoric, or overtly happy, just a sense of - I don't know - resignation. But, not in a bad way. In a life will be ok, I will be ok, everything will be ok, even if I don't obsess about things and I'm not perfect kind of way.

Pray I stay this way. I don't want it to end.

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