Disclaimer: Not for the faint of heart, if you get sickened easily by hearing of others’ bodily functions (though really, it’s not that graphic).

Well, I was off to a nice start with today’s post when my nausea caught up with me and I found myself, for the first time ever, learning to worship the porcelain goddess.  I had found it strange when I came back after a filling dinner, bloated from eating so much, yet still as nauseous as if I hadn’t eaten at all.  It wasn’t long after that I learned that my food was spoiled.  I’m quite sure it was the skinny little mushrooms wrapped in a thin slice of beef.  So there I was laying there, feeling as if my bile was rising, causing my saliva to go sour.  I went to the bathroom to spit out the bad juices only to find that I really was unwell.

In all of my life, I have felt nauseated many a time, but never once have I done more than gag a bit and flex that gag reflex a bit.  This would be the first time that I consciously regurgitated anything and it was surprisingly more natural than I ever imagined it to be.  I’m sure I was burped as a baby, but since then, the only time that my stomach has been unhappy enough with its contents was back in 5th grade, when I woke up to find that my nightmare had caused me to empty my stomach’s contents.  It was a completely novel experience to stand there and be conscious of what was happening to my body as my unhappy tummy threw out its contents in the only way it knows how.  I guess I found it a bit fascinating because I’ve only ever seen others do it before.  Experiencing it yourself makes it put on an entirely different dimension.

I curiously noted that the flow was so powerful that at one point it almost came out of my nose.  Gosh those muscles are strong!  Also, one of my contributions to the Goddess included red, which alarmed me for a moment until I smelled the scent of tomatoes.  Why I had that I have no idea, since I cannot recall what I might have had that included tomatoes, but I really doubt blood could manage to smell like that.  I did a quick check gurgling some water and checking my nose and but for a burst scar on my nose, there was no bleeding to be found.  Thank goodness.

Being my first time, I had no idea what to do afterwards, so I went online to look for some solutions.  What it came down to was: drink water.  And so I did, drinking down any more sourness that I smelled.  I didn’t know if it was better to lay down or sit straight, so I lay on the bed breathing deeply until that was uncomfortable, then sat up for awhile.  I called up my mom to confirm what action I should take and though I really wanted to eat some of that Mamee I had, I resisted the urge in case my stomach in its delicate state decided to rebel again.  It’s strange that though I lost my entire dinner, I feel less “hungry” than I had when I was full to the brim with that poison.  I guess the sour of bad food was mistaken for the sour of a stomach with nothing to be broken down by its acid.

And now a lesson learned, to be more careful about what I eat.  It didn’t seem that unusual for the food to be a bit sour, but I guess I should have smelled more intently.  This was after going to this very restaurant yesterday and finding the seaweed salad to be stale.  Perhaps their quality just isn’t up there.  It’s time to find a new place to have my solo dinners now.  At first I was afraid to sleep lest I have another incident in my sleep, but it seems to have subsided and I think my stomach would have emptied things out more if it needed to do so.  So instead of a thoughtful entry on feminism, today you get a lovely depiction of my night.  With that, I should rest, so good night!

(I hope you don’t mind the lack of pictures… I think that may just make you worse off, so I didn’t take any.  :-P)