Since I was a child, I've been a vomiter. A puker. A hurler. A spit up queen, if you will. My parents nicknamed me Pookie at birth (really guys...you couldn't think of ANYTHING ELSE??) and soon changed Pookie into Pukey Pookie. I ruined many a shirt as a baby (sorry Dad) and was likely ostracized even as an infant due to my penchant for puke. Unfortunately, this vomiting hasn't really stopped as I've moved past the formula stage and into adulthood.
And it's gotten way worse since I had the radioactive iodine.
It's like perpetual morning sickness for a pregnancy that hasn't occurred (thank Jesus). I KEEP THROWING UP. Yesterday, I puked at the Wall St subway station while Brenna gagged (how nice) thirty feet away from me. Then I ruined the bathroom and garbage pails of NJ Transit's fine motorcars. When I got home, I still threw up, even though there was nothing left in my system. This morning, more puking. At work, puking. EVERYWHERE, puking. I'm afraid my new coworkers are going to catch on and think I'm bulimic (though this would be quickly dispelled as they took one look at my potbelly).
And the worst part is, I have hardly lost any weight! As I see it, the upside of a stomach bug is the loosening of the pants. The bulge disappearing. A sudden welcoming party into the size 0 section of J.Crew. But nooo...my lovely stomach seems to magically and miraculously retain the calories even as I puke everything else out. Another example of how my illness has failed to serve me! A fat puker...I mean who would have thought??
I've been to dozens of doctors who can't quite seem to figure out why I keep puking. I've turned off many a man with my vomiting, and frightened my friends with my constant nausea. When people see me, they'll soon hand me a plastic bag and move away from me. The puking has become so common that I don't even think much of it; it's just another day in the life of ol' KPB.