I feel like it’s been FOREVER since I’ve posted a DramaLite so I have an especially embarrassing one to share today.
First the back story: I am deathly afraid of vomit. It’s not that I’m one of those people who throw up if they’re around someone who pukes, it’s that I hyperventilate and have a mild panic attack. I find I’m most terrified when I’m in a small enclosed space and someone needs to throw up. Most of the time, no one is actually going throw up BUT I have been in a van with a bunch of teenage boys who were high on cold pills and threw up into trash bags behind me. (Worst day ever and a story for another time.)
I’m the person who goes white during a long elevator ride because I overhear someone mention they “don’t feel so good.” Clearly, this means they are going to puke. My sister used to hate going on road trips with me because if she even whispered, “I have a headache,” I’d hunch over in a pile of tears clutching my ears praying we get out before she gets sick.
Cut to my freshman year of high school.
I don’t feel so well. It’s math class with Mr. Gimple. (That’s his real name I swear!) We’re learning about degrees maybe? I remember drawing a circle with a line in it and feeling overwhelmingly hot. All of a sudden I push my chair back and puke underneath the table all over the floor.
Naturally the class freaks out.
My dry, dorky math teacher, Mr. Gimple says calmly, “I’d better go get a mop.” And I try to make my way to the nurse but not without puking one more time in a trash can next to the library on my way there. SO EMBARRASSING. What kind of 9th grader can’t get themselves to a bathroom in time to be sick? A lot of young kids I know have that handled!
The worst part was my friends were looking for me all morning, terrified that I had been somewhere near “the room where somebody threw up in Gimple’s class.” Nope, that was me. No time for a panic attack, too busy blowing chunks.
Doesn’t growing up suck?
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