Food Poisoning

If stories about bodily functions grosses you out, feel free to skip this post! (I won't be too graphic, don't worry).

When I was 11 years old, my family moved from Korea back to the US. I got to be reunited with my best friend from the 3rd grade, Amy, after two years of separation. We celebrated at some pizza place. (Pizza Hut? Chuck E. Cheese? Dominoes? I can't remember.) In my excitement to be reunited and in America, I devoured that pizza. I still remember my parents warning me to slow down and not eat so fast.

I threw it all up later.

Such an unpleasant experience that was, I determined never to throw up again. I don't know HOW I stuck to my guns on that one, but I did. I didn't throw up for another 20 years. Then, one day in Paris a few years ago, I was walking along the street (after having eaten a crepe), when I felt an itch in my throat. When I coughed to scratch it, I proceeded to throw up...right in the middle of the street! I was so shocked I didn't know what to do with myself. I sat on the curb bewildered while some nice man who'd seen it all go down (or up, I should say), brought me a soda.

All of this to say: I am not a thrower upper. I don't do it. I may feel nauseated at times and think I'm close, but except for that extremely odd moment on a Parisian street, I just don't do it.

Well... I don't think I can say that anymore.

I made a very delicious pizza for the Artist and the Real McCoys the other night. Homemade dough on the pizza stone, comté and mozzarella cheese, chorizo, sautéed onions, peppers, and mushrooms, and sun-dried tomatoes from the arab market in Noailles. All four of us ate it.

Three of us regretted that later on.

At one point in the middle of the night, while I had my head in the toilet, the Artist came out of her room needing to be in the same position. I grabbed the trash can, scooted out her way, and let her have the toilet. (Extremely rabbit-trail side note: the FlyLady says that nothing says "I love you" like a clean toilet when you have to throw up. I can now say that I know what she's talking about.)

Anyway, we're pretty sure it was food poisoning (and not a stomach virus)...I'm guessing from those sun-dried tomatoes. I can safely say it will be a long time, if ever, that I can eat them again. Me and the Artist were both out of commission the entire next day, and are still, even now, feeling shy about any kind of extreme food that might make the belly do a flop.

I think you'll understand why I have no photo included with this post. Ha!