The Night a Miracle Happened

Imagine my excitement right now: I bartend during a very busy, somewhat chaotic 7-hour shift and feel the hollowness in my stomach growing, the ache in my head becoming stronger, and the aversion to every smell wafting out of the kitchen making my gag reflex act up. I sigh, envisioning myself where I’ve already been at the end of a night like this… finally home, hunched over the toilet, emptying my stomach of all of the bland and far-from-nutritious grub I managed to get down throughout the afternoon. Then reminding myself to grin and bear it because there’s a miracle happening inside my uterus right now and this is just a temporary sacrifice.

This is how I like to imagine myself when I’m feeling vulnerable. Rainbows make everything better.

I knew I was going to swing by the Taco Bell on the corner the second I peeled out of the parking lot. Those chicken gorditas were calling my name and I obliged. As I sat down at the kitchen table to dig in, I wondered just how long I’d be able to go before it would all come back up. I started to not even enjoy the taste of the delicious Mountain Dew I treated myself to.

But then something happened. I managed to finish the second gordita I was convinced I would need considering how many hours I had gone without ingesting a single thing. Another swig of Mountain Dew. It tasted better. I stood up and realized my stomach was full, and my head ceased to ache. And I actually felt more… alive. I gave myself extra points for being able to swallow the horse pill of a prenatal vitamin without gagging. A BLOODY MIRACLE INDEED!

Ok, I realize that this blog went from being about my move to Ohio to refinishing furniture and living in a rented home to cooking and now I’m talking about purging rainbows and I’ve completely lost focus. I blame the hormones. Be prepared for more randomness as the months go on. I don’t know if that counts as a warning or a guarantee. Probably both.

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