there's always a silver lining

despite the fact that i love to throw curse words around like an old sailor (is that really true that sailors curse a lot?), i am an enormous prude when it comes to talking about poo, pee, puke, or any other bodily function/excrement.

this is extremely fortunate for you readers out there in blogland who will be spared the gory details of my battle with food poisoning over the past four days. although, there were definite moments of profound revelation that i experienced in my most harrowing times that i felt worthy of sharing.

the first is by far the most important of the lessons i learned this long weekend; simply that food poisoning is going to be a much more effective diet for me than my previous standby of coffee and air.

this dawned on me sometime in the middle of the night sunday, as i got up out of bed and groaned my way to the bathroom, passing by my open closet door. there, subtly tucked away yet exposed enough to be illuminated by the fluorescent green glow of the alarm clock, was my collection of skinny jeans.


at least a half dozen pairs of those perfectly fitted jeans that go with every motherfucking thing you could ever imagine yourself wearing, somehow managed to migrate to a visible corner of my closet to speak to me.

'psst!! hey, lana! we're still heeeeeerrrrrrreeeeee!!' (that last part was actually sing-songy like the little girl in poltergeist, sneaky ass jeans)

but alas, at the time i was in too much of a hurry to reach my bathroom successfully to stop and make sexy eyes at my skinny jeans. and besides, i know them all so well by now. each pair perfect in fade, wash, length, hem. everything, perfect. except that they haven't fit so well since i grew a baby.

i'm not bitter about it though, changes in your body are a natural side effect of incubating and then birthing a child. i'm ok with that, i don't hold it against you skinny jeans.

that doesn't mean i didn't go back to sleep and dream about wearing each and every pair of those damn jeans and rolling around in a field of daisies like i was in a mariah carey video about being in love except that i was in love with my jeans and not a man.

waking up in the morning, i realized that all the intense pain i was experiencing was really for a great fucking cause. in fact, it even made me question the whole commitment to serving safe bacteria-free food to customers when i'm at work. i'd be doing some of them a huge favor, and if they knew i was behind it all, they might even come and give me a high five.

but that last part came from being dehydrated, so i'll just stick with accidental bacterial intake as being a great diet.

my second revelation that came to me was that hospital nurses sometimes, once in a while, suck at their jobs. while three different nurses had to attempt five times to find a vein to use for an iv, i thought it was a little unusual that they were having such a hard time. then today i looked down at my arms and was aghast to see that in both of my elbow creases i had obscene bruises and puncture holes that immediately made me feel like i had the beginnings of jared leto's arm in requiem for a dream.

(i thought about posting a pic, but it's way to gross for me to even deal with so i'm just going to link to the pic. feel free to look if you have a stomach made of steel, or don't if you're a pansy like me.)

i know being a nurse is a really hard job, and i'm certainly not trying to offend anyone who is, or is thinking about becoming, or ever was a nurse. but come on with this bullshit, i look like a damn junkie! lucky for them i don't have shit to do all week and a kid who can't tell if mommy's using or just has a boo-boo.

and so, in summation, i fully believe that as the fall season approaches, i will soon find myself wearing my skinny jeans and a nice, long-sleeved sweater to hide the iv wounds. thanks food poisoning, you're my bitch!!