Just when I thought it was over. . .
Apparently I spoke too soon about my vomit days being over. Oh yes, mother nature had quite a different schedule in mind. I started feeling better just days before our cruise, which was such a blessing! I felt fine on the cruise, probably because of all the protein from the seafood and steaks. YUM. Well, we got back and by Saturday night I was covering my mouth with both hands in the parking lot of the movie theater. That was fun.
Today I was working. Finished my second pedicure of the day, which mainly consists of hunching over someone's feet, inhaling the absolutely consuming smell of peppermint foot lotion for an hour. YGUUUGH. That is the sound of "if I smell this one more time I think I might puke." Well, as her nail polish was drying, I discreetly sneaked off the the bathroom to finally do it. When I came out after lots of heaving with plenty to show for it, sweaty and shaky and oh-so-attractive, my co-worker just stood there, pretty grossed out. She had been looking for me. Well, she found me.
I finished her up and then had another client right away, a hair cut. Made it through it, with smiles and "yes i'm fine, how's your day?", all the fake pleasantries we feed to clients. I hope he couldn't smell the lovely stench of oranges and pears the second time around on my breath. Tried to go get some lunch, a cup of noodles and a chocolate doughnut. Now you may not think that sounds healthy or very appetizing, but hey, what the stomach wants, it gets. For the moment. I really thought it was going to stay down as I sat in my car enjoying my meal. Wrong-O! I have never known such shame as being hunched over in front of my car, puking into a pile of bushes that weren't as concealing as I thought, losing my noodles and other things that look almost the same coming up as they did going down. Not to mention, my body seized up so hard in an effort to rid itself of what I thought was good food, that I managed to pee my pants. I don't mean a little squirt. Like, PEED my pants people. All the way through my jeans. It was so great going inside to tell the receptionist I had to leave because I couldn't stop throwing up and because I didn't think it was appropriate to cut my next client's hair with urine running down my legs.
Driving home sitting in your own pee takes you from 22 and mature to 2 years old and wanna cry like a baby pretty quick.
Please be nice to me in there. Tell my tummy to take it easy, because I really need to gain back the seven pounds I've lost and put some meat on. I want you coming out cute and fat. Ok? Ok then. Glad we could clear that up.