warning: grossness ahead
So here’s a gross story for you. If you’re stomach is easily turned, I’d recommend skipping this one. Like I said, is gross.
A couple of Tuesday evenings ago my girl Michelle and I went down to Columbia to hang out and ostensibly to see a movie that she’d gotten free passes for. But it was She’s Out of My League, so neither of us was too pressed to actually make it to the film.
What we were excited about, however, was the existence of both a MAC store and a Sephora in that particular mall. (Not that both don’t exist in the mall right by my house as well.) And for a nice dinner, as I really wanted to have a glass of wine and a nice meal.
Well, with more money spent than should’ve been on both our parts (but as usual, especially on mine), we decided on PF Changs for dinner. I ordered the crispy honey shrimp, and Michelle had the Hot Fish.
She even managed to order it with a mostly straight face. I’m so proud.
Things were lovely. It was a good meal, the service was good. We didn’t have to wait long to be seated or anything like that.
After the meal, we headed back to Michelle’s house, where my car was parked. About fifteen minutes out, I started feeling a bit wonky. My stomach was not happy.
Now, you should know that I get motion sickness like nobody’s business. I always have, and it’s actually worse in cars than it used to be, since I started driving. Everything else is about the same (I mean it, if it is a mode of transportation and I’m not an active participant, I get motion sickness really easily.) (By active participant, I mean that riding a bike doesn’t make me sick). So I crack the window despite the spitting sleet and start taking deep breaths.
“Are you ok?” Michelle asks.
“Oh no. Not at all,” I reply.
“Yeah, you started doing that whole “uh huh” thing instead of actually answering me.”
“I think I might throw up.”
“Really? Oh god, do you need me to pull over?” We were sitting at the toll on 895 before the tunnel. In dead traffic. There was nowhere to go.
And then I proceeded to puke. All over the side of Michelle’s car. How horrific is that? If I were easily embarrassed, this is where it would happen. And I suppose I was, to an extent, as I kept apologizing for doing so.
Also, throwing up rice is not fun. AT ALL.
I felt much better after, ahem, that. I made it home, where I brushed my teeth and practically dove into bed. On Wednesday, I thought I felt better, until I ate something that is. Then I promptly had to go running for the bathroom to try and settle myself or else throw up again.
It wasn’t a fun couple of days. I ended up leaving early Wednesday to go home and crawl into bed like the miserable little girl I was.
And all this, I think, led to that week being quite surreal and weird.
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Tags: gross, grossness, puking