Fat Girls Guide to Vomit and Other Unpleasant Things

(This was from July, but I couldn't handle reading it for editing until now. Fat Girls seem to have strong gag reflexes.)


Lately, this Fat Girl has been experiencing a few of her least favorite things. Let me provide you with a list:

- Paperwork with a due date

- Debt

- New beer I didn't care for

- Heat

- Homebuying

- Dogs with bladder issues

- Angry cats

- No new television shows

- Small children

- Paris Hilton with a Bible

- Projectile Vomit

Let me bring the conversation to my last point: projectile vomit.

Why did God allow that to happen? Was it necessary to have a step beyond just plain vomit?

I have learned that children are the best at projectile vomiting. Especially with a full stomach.

I have recently had an AWFUL reminder that Fat Girls don't like vomit.

A small child, certainly not on pupose (that's what the baby lovers out there would tell you, but I think otherwise), projectile vomited in my universe.

I had to clean it up.

It was milk-based.

I just threw up a little in my mouth right now at my computer.

Give me a second.

I think I'm better. I had to let it sit there for quite a while before I had the opportunity to clean it up.


Ok, wait, I need another moment.
Did you know smell is one the strongest memories?
I just found out.


Alright, I'm able to continue.

When Fat Girls clean unpleasant things (well, ok, clean anything) we like it to be in a pleasant, soothing environment with lovely smelling organic products, gloves with leopard print cuffs, and George Clooney waiting to give us a foot rub when we're finished.

Today I had none of those things.

But I had vomit.

I stuffed a tissue into my nostrils (I looked like a bull with a nose ring), wore white rubber gloves (no fancy cuff), and I had a makeshift mixture of windex (generic) and water (cold).

I strubbed vomit off plastic. I scrubbed vomit off furniture. I scrubbed vomit out of carpet.

I hate vomit.

Fat Girls hate vomit. It's unnecessary, bad smelling, and ugly.

It's like every Dane Cook movie: no matter what you do, it just keeps happening.

Control thy stomachs, people. Fat Girls cannot handle this chaos in their universe.