Friday, April 16, 2010

The test to any relationship.....

Barf. Puke. Whatever you like to call it.~~ Disclaimer: if you have a weak stomach, just stop reading. I don't want to be responsible for this post ruining your lunch.~~

Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, talking about the one thing that causes most of us a lot of fear. Or just plain discomfort. I am not a fan of puking. I am not a fan of nausea, or the stomach aches that go along with both. I can think of a number of things that I would rather "have" or "do" than puke. So, now that we understand my pure hate for the act, let me explain the point of such a grotesque post.

Just a few short weeks ago my husband and I left on vacation with my parents. We were flying to Atlanta from Michigan and then from Atlanta to San Juan. To make a treacherous story much shorter: I hate flying as well. Almost as much as I hate puke. But, nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen next. Only a hour into my first flight did I receive the urgency to puke out everything my stomach held dear. So, while my father was taking his time finding a little white bag. Not sure why they make "puke holders" white. To make us feel more clean? Validated? Anyways, I decided to tackle my mother on her way out of the plane bathroom. Ironic. And you can imagine what happened next.

Flight #2. I am given an insane amount of Dramamine which is supposedly there to help with motion sickness. And if I haven't mentioned before: that is my problem. I board the second flight nothing short of delusional. But, delusion could not save me from the inevitable. Only twenty minutes into my second flight I pummel the women next to me in order to make it to the bathroom on time. Unfortunately, I was too late. While I struggled vehemently with the bathroom door...I was puking...and we all know that one's cheeks can only expand so far. It was a lost cause. I was panicked. Until I turned around to find my husband standing there and with a ease that made me look ridiculous, he opened the bathroom door. My hero.

Well, I won't tell you that the next three hours of that flight were enjoyable. Because, I would be lying. Probably the closest thing to torture I have ever experienced. My point in this post was not to gross everyone out...even though I'm sure some of you thought you were bold and continued reading after my disclaimer. But, to simply say that you know someone reallllly loves you when they are there to open that jammed bathroom door in an airplane when you are in a puking panic. You know that someone really loves you when they are willing to sacrifice most of their vacation to take care of the lame sick person.

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