Everyone gets hungry, but when I haven't had my normal meal at my normal time, my sweet, innocent disposition is in danger of shrinking to something less than human. Elizabeth becomes Elizabeast. Just clear a path to the refrigerator and get out of my way, or woe to any waitress that screws up my order. At least I am aware now that I am like that. When I feel like ripping someone's head off, I stop to considering whether I might be hungry. If so, I try to temper my response to whatever offense set me off. In an effort to keep the beast at bay, I try to eat small meals every 2 - 3 hours. I also keep crackers in my car for emergencies to tide me over until I get something more substantial in my body. Having a small influx of calories at regular intervals seems to keep me on an even keel.

If I partake of a large meal, however, something else happens entirely. In fact, there are four distinct levels involved as the food makes it way into me. Part way through the large meal, I can feel the beast retreating. "Oh, I'm feeling SO much better." This is the satisfaction stage. If I keep eating, then euphoria sets in. Now I am feeling no pain -- life is beautiful again. My body feels flushed with the calories coursing through my system. I feel a ball of energy building up inside of me as if I could throw out my arms and have lightning bolts fly from my fingertips. The beast is back in her cage and the world is safe. (This is my favorite stage.) If I still keep eating, then my food euphoria transforms into a food stupor. I'm still feeling good and the everything around me looks rosy, but I don't feel like doing anything. After that comes the food coma. At that point, the only thing I can do is take a nap and wait for the food to digest.