I realized tonight that my daughter C.C. has inherited my cumbersome, never regular, and always inconvenient virtue of puking. I have a long history of involuntary vomiting.
I think my first public upchuck memory, since I am pretty sure I blocked many of the most embarrassing moments out, was in the 6th grade when my biology class was dissecting a frog. Did you have to do that? All I have to say is Hell to the No! I don't know if it was the act of actually pinning a dead frog to a bowl, the smell of formaldehyde, or the clearly pubescent body odor smelling boy that was my lab partner, but I barely made it out of the classroom into the hall when all hell broke loose.
I could NEVER and have never made myself puke. I know that eating disorders are a disease and I don't take them lightly, but like any other teenage girl in Orange County, I tried to make myself throw-up to see what all the hubbub was about. All I was able to do was stab myself in the back of the throat causing me to choke and not drink warm beverages for 3 days. So never was this voluntary - nope - I would just puke at the most inopportune times, although not often. Then, I grew up and started drinking.
Incidentally, why is the term "throw-up"? That makes absolutely no sense to me. Whenever I do it, it is projectile out front or with my head down. I don't even like imagining the idea of putting your head up and puking upward - it wouldn't really work right? I mean, eventually, if you didn't choke to death, sheer volume would force some out of your mouth, but that just seems terribly inefficient and messy. I think that term is stupid, and therefore I am going to stop using it. Thanks for your time.
The years went on, and I would usually only get sick when drinking. I would never get sick when I was so full I wished I could puke, like Thanksgiving, or a sushi buffet. No, no, no. It would only happen while partying. I am pretty sure I got alcohol poisoning once during the Super Bowl in San Diego - I stopped drinking for a month - mostly because I puked for like 17 hours - water wouldn't stay down. To this day I can't even smell Goldschlager.
That being said, being a drunk puker came to be quite convenient, albeit always expensive. I would go out, be life of the party, dancing on bars, buying everyone rounds of shots, accepting offered rounds of shots...then realize...oh shit...this is not good. I would head off to the bathroom praying all the way for no line (another question, why the fuck is there ALWAYS a line in the woman's room and not the men? I mean, fuck, piss and go Ladies, piss and go). I would puke in the bathroom and then head back to the bar. Of course, that was very shortsighted thinking, because later that evening, when home and the room would start spinning, I would essentially sleep on the bathroom floor. It got to the point where my sister and I kept a pillow and blanket in the downstairs closet for just such occasions. Maybe that is why I became such a semi-germophobe. My head was sleeping on home shitters all the time so I wanted them bleach clean.
Then, years later, I completely RUINED a Nissan X-Terra having puked all over it, after eating Pimento Cheese. For those of you not from the South, Pimento Cheese is AMAZING, and so yummy you just sort of keep eating it. I had never heard of it until we moved to Nashville - but it became an obsession. Problems arise however, when people pour shots of whiskey along with it. It was not pretty and I don't know how my friend whose car it was, remained my friend after that. The vehicle basically had to be crushed because the smell literally never left the vehicle. It was like that story that was going around years ago of the guy that forgot he had a frozen turkey in the back of his car for like 4 months, got pulled over, the cop thought he had a dead body in the car but discovered the turkey and the insurance company had to total out the car. It's a true story, I saw it on the internet.
These days, my puking only happens when I have a blowout diaper and there is litterally shit all over my hands, I have to pick up dog poop, or my daughter pukes on me. She does not drink alcohol for the record - she is 4. She just suddenly feels sick in restaurants and need to go throw-up - totally at random, and so infrequently I forget it is a thing. But, like me, it is almost always at inopportune times. One time, bless her heart, she waited until she was in my car in traffic...that was fun. That was actually the day I got laid off during mat leave, so I will just chalk that up as one of the Top 10 Shit Days.
In any case, as her mom, when the time comes, I will most certainly be explaining to her that we are special, and that as much as you will be the party girl, clinging glasses and buying shots, we have limitations. Limitations that I am sure she will ignore and test to the fullest- because she is my daughter. I just hope she calls me to hold her hair back.
Foul mouthed, outspoken and pretty much an eternal realist.