Sunday, March 31, 2013

An Epilogue to Food Poisoning

I consider myself to have a stomach of steel. I always eat cookie batter rife with uncooked eggs, I don't make a stink if my meat looks a little pink, and I just cut the moldy corners off of cheese. And nearly 100% of the time, I am totally fine. Growing up, when we had steak at the house, we wanted it put upon a plate still "mooing".  I sling raw chicken around the kitchen like that discus throwing babe from the 2012 London Summer Olympics. No joke, I just never thought it was an issue for me.

Until 2012, I had gotten food poisoning once in my entire life, and it was from eating one of those Veggie Patties from Subway, so in other words, I pretty much deserved the hell that I reaped on myself. Then last year I went to dinner at a lovely place in Astoria called William Hallet and sh*t got cray. It was violent y'all, and to make matters even more shitty (as though food poisoning can get any more shitty, and I mean that both literally and figuratively), my friend Santhi was in town and we were supposed to go to brunch to catch up the next day! Unfortunately, I had to cancel because my body had become a bacteria fueled battleground of vom and sadness.

Well this past Friday, my dear friend Santhi was back in town again, and we got together at A2 on the LES with our friend Bruce. Now, I'd be lying if I said we didn't hit it pretty hard. It was a reunion of high school friends, and a good night out was in order. That said, we kept ourselves together and made it our mission to find some late night snacks. I wouldn't usually opt for the pizza covered in meat, but whatever, I was super hungry. I nom nomed that thing like there was no tomorrow, and then it was time to head home.


(Yes those are stickers on our faces. Yes, we knew they were there.)

I got home without a hitch, which is rare at that hour. Things were looking good! I played Matt & Kim extremely loud to the distaste of my sleepy boyfriend (and apparently later went renegade and posted like every single one of their music videos on FB, but seriously, they have amazing music videos, check this one out). I drank some water, washed my face and went to bed.

And then Saturday at 9:30 AM, all hell broke loose. WTF. How was this happening? Did I legit get food poisoning AGAIN? When Santhi was in town, AGAIN?! What was this dark magic? And though another friend jokingly posed the question, "OMG! Is Santhi poisoning you?" I have ruled that scenario out as a feasible option. It's pretty obvious that I should not have eaten pork laden pizza at 4 AM. God knows how long that stuff had been sitting out. PS - Is there any kind of health code regulation for pizza joints that just let the pizza sit out at room temperature before throwing it into the oven? It just seems like a playground for foodbourne illness now that I really think about it. I guess it takes getting violently ill sometimes to utilize critical thinking skills. Never again, my friends.

Anyway, yesterday sucked balls. Lars, despite having to listen to husband/wife synth pop for several hours the night before, was very good to me and made sure I had what I needed all day. I drank an entire two liter, erm, tried to drink an entire two liter of seltzer. That did not turn out well. I will spare you the details. Lars put on "How It's Made" a show on the Discovery Channel that shows products being created in factories, usually of the industrial variety. I almost feel like this was a cruel joke because the first thing that popped up on the screen was, "How It's Made: MAYONNAISE!" WTF. This also did not end well. I will spare you the details here as well.

After several hours of watching Bob's Burgers, I finally fell back asleep and when I woke up I felt a bit better physically, but mentally, I was totally effed. And this is the realization that I've come to after this weekend - I beat myself up for things that I have no control over. I do this really often. For someone who thrives on going to camp out music festivals, I may be one of the most neurotic people you'll ever meet in your life. I've seriously been sitting in my apartment completely depressed at the fact that I was unable to accomplish anything yesterday. I was super ill! What the hell did I think I was going to accomplish other than shitting my pants in public, or throwing up in front of a bunch of tourists on the subway? But then I think, hey, if that had happened, maybe I'd have a great story! Ugh. What's wrong with me? Dude, my brain, it's so whack.

So today, I spent some time getting hydrated, making lentil soup, catching up with my friend Melissa (she convinced me to leave the house which was muchos therapeutic) and doing some restorative yoga in my living room. During the yoga video, (I found a great daytime restorative flow on doyogawithme.com) the instructor repeatedly used the words "surrender" and "let go". Those words were exactly what I needed to hear today. I spend so much time killing myself over things that are not my fault, and it's totally unfair and unrealistic to think that I can be everywhere at once. It's time for me to let go, and accept life as it comes at me rather than try to be on constant damage control. I need to take time for me. I need to take time to be me.

And I guess that is what this long blog post about puke and self-discovery is really all about. I'm coming on the close of probably one of the worst months I've ever known. I do find it rather funny that the universe decided to end this one with a bang by making me hella ill for the last two days of this God forsaken time period, but all that aside, I do believe that I learned something. What doesn't kill you, certainly makes you stronger. Forgiveness is key, especially when it comes to forgiving yourself. Getting to see Santhi once in a blue moon is totally worth getting food poisoning. Oh, and never eat pizza covered in every pork product known to man at 4 AM. That sh*t might kill you.

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