The fluke puke

If I had to choose an eating disorder, I would choose anorexia. While the physical act of chewing brings me joy and I have an unnatural love for food, I absolutely hate to throw up. So I'd rather do without than to binge and purge.

Unfortunately I've had my share of stomach bugs and once had severe food poisoning, but I've always managed to find an appropriate place to vomit. Growing up, our family had the "puke pan," a porcelain bowl my mom kept under the sink for bouts of sickness that she'd drag out when one of us was sick. We'd throw up, then she'd sterilize it and store it for the next family flu.

For three decades, I've managed to restrict my purging to private places. I'm not the girl who puked at a frat party in college or in a club during a date.

This afternoon, however, while driving down an innocuous Rogers street, my streak ended. I felt a bit nauseous, which I attributed to cramping, and then it happened. Projectile vomiting. While driving.

Have you ever had a puddle of puke on your brand new pants and on your steering wheel? Have you ever driven with your left hand because your right hand was streaked with vomit from trying to catch it before it was too late?

Much too little and much too late.

Thankfully I was only a few miles from my office, and luckily I'd done yoga at lunch and still had my workout gear in a bag in the backseat.

But I still had to pull up in front of our very glass building and walk into my office, which is next door to a vendor's glass-walled office, with puke from my neck to my shins. I had to visit the cleaning closet to secure Lysol and a trash bag to stash my (thankfully washable) clothes after stripping down in the bathroom.

Sadly, I had to cancel my Ruth's Chris dinner with Lori B, which I was really looking forward to. But that was less traumatic than sitting in vomit for my 45 commute.

Once home, I threw my clothes in the washing machine, liberally sprayed my car with carpet cleaner, scrubbed out the puke stains, and walked in the house to throw up again.

In case you're wondering, I had leftover cheese dip for lunch. No dairy for this gal for a few days, because I eventually got hungry again tonight and seem to be over whatever died in my stomach.

Granted, it could have been worse. Someone else could have puked on me.