Food Poisoning

In a white light, a tunnel reaching backwards through time, the hands fold over one another, fingers interlock, my head comes down to the ground.

“Thank you. For everything. For my health and my ability to do my yoga practice today. Thank you for everyone I love and everyone who loves me. Thank you for another day.”

I don’t know who or what exactly, if anything, I’m thanking. All I know is that I’m so grateful to be alive and well at this exact moment…

“Thank you,” I whisper. 

I curl up into the fetal position and hope I’m going to die soon.      

      

I’d be okay with dying now, I think. I just finished a project that makes me proud of myself.  I could stop worrying about growing older and how to pay for things and if I’m meeting some fragmented standard of success.  Now would be a lovely time to die.

I don’t think I’m near death, not really. My future’s so bright… and hot.

I pick up the bag beside my bed and throw up.

I hope this bag holds. I can’t believe there’s so much liquid coming out. How is there any water left in my body? How are there still carrots in my stomach? It’s been over six hours since I ate carrots…  

“She’s morphine, queen of my vaccine…”

I stand and bleary eyed stumble to the bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach from the plastic bag into the toilet. I blow my nose and gag myself on the contents of my throat. I brush my teeth and rinse with mouthwash and nothing changes the texture of my distress. I wash my hands and scrub my face. My head comes down into my hands. I fall to my knees and look up past the blurred black mascara into the mirror of my desperate eyes.

I’m going to be so thin when this is over. Everyone will want to know what my secret is. All of the girls are going to be so jealous of me… so jealous… of me…

I laugh. I always laugh when shit like this happens… speaking of shit.

I get up off my knees and run back into the bathroom to take my 10^th liquid shit of the last hours.

On the bright side, if I was accidentally pregnant before this, then I’m definitely not anymore. I didn’t think I was pregnant, but it never hurts to be doubly safe is what I always say… this reminds me of mescaline… but worse. Rocky will think that’s funny.

I wipe, flush, wash up, stagger wretchedly, and fling myself onto my crumpled battle-lost sheets. I'm freezing. I put on my moose fleece and shiver violently, pulling my legs to my chest.

“Please, let it end,” I beg. I don’t know who or what exactly, if anything, I’m begging. All I know is that now would be a fine time to die… 

Well everyone, the secret to my girlish figure is kale! It was the contaminated kale, or some other murderous vegetable, but my money’s on the kale.

 Just one little salad, my envious twatwaffles, and in just one day you’ll have dropped five pounds! Your body’s desperate attempt to purge itself of the deadly toxins will have you as your sexiest self in no time! No dieting or exercise required! No actual will power or sense of self-worth necessary! You’re only days of agonizing, disorienting pain away from your best you! Only three payments of 29.99! I’m Billy Mayes is what Mr. Funny said…

“I love you,” I whisper. I don’t know who or what exactly, if anything, I’m telling "I love you." All I know is that it’s true.

I close my eyes, and I see the hundreds of times my hands folded, my head bowed, and I said thank you, and everyone, if only me, said namaste.

The feeling is white and the color is peace.

“Thank you.”

I sigh and fall asleep.