It's gross but kinda funny

I threw up a lot as a kid... bare minimum twice a month. It was partially because I have a shitty immune system, partially because I had (have) panic attacks. I've gotten a bit better on both issues, but I still throw up almost every time I get sick with anything. I don't do it on purpose. That being said, I have favorite stories:

I was alone in my house at night, most of the lights off. There was no warning, just the instant 'Oh God it's happening RIGHT NOW' feeling. I almost made it to the bathroom, but ended up puking on the floor. It was so much darker than vomit should ever be.

I distinctly remember calmly thinking "Is this blood? Which part of my body is shutting down? Is throwing up blood kidney or liver failure? No one is here to take me to the hospital."

Thankfully, it was just spaghetti. It's nice to not have internal bleeding.

There was the time I tried to drink myself into oblivion after a godawful day. I was impatient and wanted to be drunk immediately... too much, too fast, empty stomach. I puked everything I've ever eaten. The next day my friend tried consoling me, telling me to "puke out the sadness. Like a fuckin dragon." It was surprisingly helpful. Since then, every single time I vomit I think of dragons.

The absolute best story was the movies. No, I didn't puke in the theater. It would make for a more dramatic ending, though more humiliating than I think I'd admit to the internet. It was close, don't get me wrong.

I refused to run to the bathroom to save my dignity, which in hindsight was a bad idea. It would've given me the extra few seconds to get into a stall, close the door, and position myself in front of the toilet. My dumb ass walked and barely got inside a stall. There was no time for anything else.

There's projectile and then there's what I did. I exploded. It went everywhere. EVERYWHERE. On the seat, on the top and sides of the tank, every side of the bowl, the back of the toilet, on the stall walls, covered the floor.

EXPLODED.

Maybe 20% actually got in the toilet. I cleaned up and almost threw up again just because I was so disgusted. Then I found one of the employees, explained the situation, said it just needed to be disinfected. This made me miss the majority of the movie, which I had been looking forward to seeing for the past month or so.

To make this story even better- this was in the middle of a pregnancy scare. My boyfriend at the time didn't make the connection until the next day. Luckily it was just the flu. I wasn't (nor have I ever been) pregnant.

Then there are memorable stories of being sick in elementary, middle and high school. The trip to california where I threw up at least once a day. If I go too long without eating. All of the carsick stories (lots and lots). Like I said, I puke a lot. It sucks.

Groups of anything in class should die

Fuck you, group projects and fuck you hard. Literally every week thus far I’ve been involved in some kind of group since the start of the semester. I don't want to interact with anyone else ever, stop trying to make it happen. Just let me stare at the clock and count the minutes until I can leave.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become somewhat less shitty at public speaking. Still not enthusiastic about the idea and still hope a meteor crashes into the room right before my turn, but I can get through a presentation alright. A personal one, I mean. Group presentations make me nervous and I’m sudden back in third grade having a panic attack because I don’t know if I’m going to mesh with the group or if everyone will pinpoint and focus on my mistakes. Even then I knew how painfully awkward I was. Third grade. For serious.

There was a moment in the terrible 'trying to put everything together' phase where I realized I might have done mine horribly, horribly wrong. From that point on, I was in the state of nauseated nervousness, obsessing on what I could say to redeem myself.

Luckily the rest of the group was at the same level of “I hope this is right” confusion, so at least it would be homogenous. A guy in the group admitted that he was also extremely awkward in every aspect of life. One of us made a joke about awkward hugs, so I mimed my best version… at the same time he did. We were both unsure of what to do. We did the lean into it, lean away, what the shit are you doing, what the shit am I doing, why is this happening, I hate everything that’s ever led up to this moment, please God drop a meteor right now.

It ended up as the weirdest hug- a side hug with me tapping the outside of his arm, him tapping one of my shoulders, the other arm just in the air in my direction.

Save room for Jesus!

Presentation- I haven’t been that apprehensive about public speaking for a long time. I kept telling myself to chill out, be kinda normal for 90 seconds. It wasn’t working out well. My inner voice was getting pissed at my actual voice and I think my frustration crept out. Most of the people in class had the same weird look on their faces the longer I was standing. Then the professor kept asking questions and I couldn’t comprehend what she wanted me to say, so I just kept talking, hoping she’d leave me alone ASAP.

Then that lying son of a bitch started explaining his part. Where was the awkwardness now, motherfucker? He was charismatic and downright charming. He had the perfect joke timing. I immediately hated him. I was under the impression we had solidarity in our inept social skills.

When it was over I asked a joking question (really a snide comment with a joking tone so I wouldn’t be obviously bitchy) about where that awkwardness went. He said public speaking is the only thing he’s comfortable with; it’s everything else he’s not. I don’t know if I believe him.

But then again, there was that hug…

Jesus could’ve danced between us in the amount of space there was. Time stopped in the worst possible way and took eons to start again. I don’t know if I can stress how uncomfortable and freakishly long moment that was.

So... that happened.