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So it's the week after Thanksgiving, and you're still feeling bloated. In a combined effort to keep your mouth full so that you couldn't be expected to answer your relatives' annoying questions and to make the schlep home to Buttfuck worthwhile, you gorged yourself on turkey, etc. and now you feel like a giant stuffed elephantelopenfant yourself. What to do? Well, we'd never advocate eating disordered behavior, but sometimes a quick purge is just necessary. And if sticking your finger down your throat doesn't appeal, you can always try this paragraph from this Sunday's Modern Love column. Worked for us!

It's like labor pain; the body has contractions to push out whatever has developed. Except instead of giving birth to a live child, you deliver a jellyfish-shaped ball the size of a buckeye, covered in a skein of blood. It is like an alien from a horror movie that drops out of you. "It's alive! It's alive!" you want to shriek. Except, of course, it isn't alive. That is its whole problem.

We're sure the fat studies dept. has a bone to pick with us now.

In the Grip of Nature's Own Form of Birth Control [NYT]