The awful, awful consequences of breaking a diet

As I said last week, I finished my diet on Friday, and yesterday I was to indulge in as many sinful meals as I could. As it turns out, I wasn't that hungry to begin with.
I had a meager lunch: a small bowl of fruits, a bit of chili soup, and some roast beef. Later yesterday, I had peanut butter with crackers, since my last gastronomical adventure has made all complex carbs disappear from my pantry; hence, no bread is to be found in the vicinity.
I went to bed, and was awoken an hour and a half later by what can only be described as pangs from hell. I had cramps that confirmed my decision on not ever getting pregnant. Seriously, if labor is anything or worse than what I felt last night, how can women do that to themselves? We really don't need to reproduce, and I'm sure Earth would be grateful to see humankind disappear.
By experiences too graphic to describe, I vomited every little thing I ate yesterday, and the day before. Was this my body complaining about the sudden change, and if so, when will I be able to eat like a human again? I'm eating cereal with skimmed milk as I write. What evil am I paying for?
The silver lining: I lost a pound and a half in my ordeal last night.