I got home from derby late on Sunday night. I was tired and I didn’t want to cook. Worse off, I wanted junk food. I craved it. I don’t have these cravings often so I thought I’d listen to what my body *thought* it wanted.
Living in Dundas you have limited choice for junk fast food on a Sunday evening. Not that Dundas is the mecca for healthy eating, but it’s mostly local mom ‘n’ pop shops that close up at 6 and are never open on Sundays. As for chain fast food places there’s the KFC (gross), Pizza Pizza (if I wanted pizza I would go to Master’s but I would need to order a whole pizza so that it was fresh and I didn’t want a whole pizza) and there’s McDonald’s. So, off we went.
(there’s also Tim Horton’s and Subway, but I don’t consider them junk food. They aren’t something you should eat every day but they offer grease free choices so they don’t count a junk)
I typically order chicken fried something, because I figure at least the frying process burns off whatever grossness and bacteria are laying around in the food…but I wanted beef. So, for the first time in my life, I ordered a quarter pounder.
As I was eating it, my stomach started to grumble. I began to feel clammy and tired, but I was so hungry I wolfed down the entire meal in minutes. (well, I wasn’t only hungry, but I was eager to get to playing video games and relaxing on my last holiday Sunday with James).
As we were exploring the wonderful world of Warcraft, the pangs began. It felt as though something was intermittently trying to punch out of my stomach. And it wasn’t low, in my tummy. It was up close to my ribs, as though it was right outside the bile of my stomach, taunting it, arms and legs scraping along my esophagus, doing whatever it can to stay alive.
I went to the bathroom a couple of times, rammed my fingers so far down my throat to force this evil out of me…but nothing. I didn’t understand, just stinky saliva but no burger. I knew it was too late; I was going to be punished.
I thought it was a good idea to down two sleeping pills and try to sleep it off but the punching in my abdominal area was consistent. This little fucker was here to stay.
I tried the usual techniques of “rubbing the buddha” and putting cold cloths on my forehead and somehow managed to pass out. It was only for a couple of hours when I was jolted awake. I sat up straight, sweating and gross and ran to live the scene from the Exorcist in my bathroom.
You know that kind of vomiting. It’s the kind that makes your abs crunch so hard you sprain them. It burns your mouth so bad you feel the acid rotting your teeth. And the smell….oh the smell.
But, thankfully, I finally got the evil out.
The next 24 hours were somewhat bearable. I couldn’t eat anything except ginger tea and water, I ended up with a fever of 101. The bathroom was my favourite room in the house (from both ends). My body ached all over, but there was no headache, no runny nose, no sniffling or sneezing. All the pain originated from that one spot, right in my stomach. I swear, I’m scarred for life.
I learned something very valuable from this experience. That in the chance of an apocalypse, where all the real food gets wiped out and I am left with what survives for eons (i.e. McDonald’s)…I’m doomed.