warning: this post is nearly entirely about vomit and its quaint little nicknames. Those with sensitive dispositions may want to avoid it like the plague...
I am not a puker. I never have been nor do I ever intend to be. Some people are just born heavers (i.e. my youngest child), me? Notsomuch. In fact, I would even go so far as to suggest that my body does not know how to puke effectively. Instead, it seems to hold onto all vile contents as to maximize feeling gross. Today is one of those days. It started yesterday when I was done and leaving the gym at 5:55am. I stepped off the treadmill and thought "I think I'm gonna barf." I had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to boot right then and there but as per my normal, the feeling passed. Then 8 hours later as I was sitting through a presentation at work the nausea returned and I had to go home. But alas, no puking. All the benefits of feeling ill without the visual and justifiable proof. Sorry coworkers, you are just gonna have to trust me on this one...
So today I woke up and still feel like someone is squeezing my stomach. And I still feel like I am going to be sick but I won't. Because I can't.
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