My room is dark and so is my mind. My legs are covered in mosquito bites from sleeping naked with the window open and the most sincere thing to touch my lips all weekend is the buttered bagel I’m eating. It will also be the first thing this weekend that will probably stay down after I eat it. This Sunday morning, not an easy one, I’m sitting in my living room, which seems like a vast improvement from being holed up in my bedroom in the dark for the past two days.
I was lucky enough to get food poisoning on Friday, which left me throwing up for 8 hours straight, excuse me, projectile vomiting bile, into a pot beside my bed on the floor. I found it was easier to just lay over the side of my bed to exert fluids I wasn’t even sure were left in my body rather than splash my crisp white Venetian SFERRA bed sheets. Seriously though, when you’ve been throwing up for 8 hours, when having nothing in your stomach to begin with, where is that coming from? I think it left my body being made up of 20% water. One time a friend was dropping me off in a cab after a night out and I threw up all over my purple YSL suede Tribute heels… in the cab. Splash Mountain style. That was a terrible look.
But anyways, I literally couldn’t keep a single sip of water down until nightfall. Cups of water danced around my disheveled face like a mirage so distant yet so close. Anytime I attempted to indulge in a drop, I was reverted back to my ill personal desert, where a taste of water on my tongue would’ve been a dessert, but it shot back up like the trajectory of a missile instead. I became Regan MacNeil and no power of Christ could’ve compelled me. I descended down into a rabbit hole of light headiness, blacking out as I stumbled into the kitchen to try to suck on an ice cube for hydration. Only seconds later I found myself hovering over my bed exasperating my guts in dead silence, besides the crackle of a Vanilla Sandlewood candle I had lit for a calming effect. I didn’t even turn on my TV until around 8pm. I would’ve been unable to process pictures on a screen when I could barely process something my body was already made of.
By the 8th hour I wiped the smeared eye make up off my face, but not before documenting it in a cell phone picture so disturbing I had no one to send it out to; Halloween was but a mere two months away. Suddenly, a knock at my door! My mother came to my rescue and I was instantly rich: surrounded by an array of diner soups, 7up, Pedialite, ginger ale and water. Tissues from wiping my face off with vomit and smeared eye makeup decorated my bed like dollar bills covering a strip club floor, which she gingerly picked up and tossed out like yesterday’s Post. She even cleaned out the pot I had been throwing up in all day. Thanks mommy!
I usually enjoy being sick. I used to love to pretend I was sick in elementary school so I could be sent home to watch Tom & Jerry. When my mom wasn’t watching I’d sneak Oreo cookies and then she’d catch me and call me out on not being sick.
This time being sick was not as fun. Mom had to leave a couple hours later, and I felt homeless in my own home. I attempted to eat ice cream but threw up.
The best moment out of those 48 hours was when the two episodes of the Real Housewives of NYC came on that I had missed. I also watched The Bachelorette, which you can watch On Demand before it comes out in theaters in September. That movie sucked. The whole movie had way too many cocaine references and was basically centered around doing drugs, which none of the actors could execute well at all.
(ED NOTE: I just thew up my breakfast actually, so I guess I’m not feeling better). 😦
Here’s to day three. I’d cheers my cup of water but I’m afraid to drink it. Here’s to losing weight this weekend.