Not much in my life to complain about. Not much to brag about, either. Not much progress in my workouts to report. (In fact I only worked out 3x this week; a 3-mile run on Monday, lunchtime gym sesh on Tuesday, jujitsu on Wednesday, and that was it.) So I guess I’ll tell you a gross cruise story.

When we arrived in Florida for the cruise, they had just had their first rain in a long time, and it was supposed to have been a pretty bad storm. Unfortunately, our cruiseship followed the storm’s path out to sea. The first nite at sea, we actually caught up to and navigated thru the storm. The waters were rocky and choppy, and early the next morning (day 2 onboard), the ship was swinging to and fro and a lot of people got seasick.

I tell you guys this not because I believe I got seasick, but there is an existing debate as to whether I got seasick. See, we had yoga scheduled for 7am that morning, and the exercise/spa section of the ship is at nearly the very top level of the ship, so we get the bulk of the rocking. This is also the peak time, as I found out later, that people were seasick because this was the time we were in the most unsteady waters. I had told Mr. W before and also that morning that I shouldn’t eat before yoga because I’d done yoga on a semi-full stomach before and it made me very nauseated. Nevertheless, he insisted on grabbing a small bite before yoga class. So, factor 1: 6:30a breakfast off Florida means 3:30a breakfast in Los Angeles time. WAY too early for my body to function. Factor 2: food in my stomach, even tho it’s just a little (plain yogurt, half a muffin, half a cup of juice), makes me sick in yoga. Factor 3: the exercise room in which we were doing yoga was rocking so hard that people couldn’t hold their poses; they kept falling over. I could do the downward dog position just fine, everytime I was inverted I was okay, but the moment I got up I was sick. I got sicker and sicker until my forehead felt cold and clammy, so to keep from passing out, I just excused myself from yoga and sat out at the side of the room on a bench. An older lady got up from her yoga mat and sat by me, saying she was sick too and she was going to take a break from yoga. Then she asked me where the bathroom was, and I pointed her in the direction of the women’s locker room. She left and came back in about 10 minutes, during which time I continued to get sick until I decided that to play it safe, I should go into the women’s locker room and be near a restroom.

When I got into the women’s locker room, my throat was reaching back into itself to access my stomach. You guys know the pre-upchuck feeling. I quickly walked to the towels, grabbed one, and walked into the only available stall, which was a large handicap stall, with about 2 seconds to spare as my diaphragm was already pulling itself in to start the first wave of regurgitation. I popped into the stall, locked it, then swirled around to lurch toward the toilet. With that little time, there was nothing I could do about the fact that someone had already vomited all over the toilet seat, on the floor in front of the toilet, and on the back of the toilet. I barely made it around the side of the toilet away from the farthest-reaching pool of brown and peach puke on the floor, and did my best with projectile vomiting, aiming for the toilet. I hadn’t thrown up in a long time, and vomiting then was surprisingly painless and easy. I wasn’t even grossed out by the pre-existing vomit there. Even tho I was barefoot from the yoga class. I know what you’re wondering. Yes, yes I did. A little. But what bothered me the most was that I didn’t want people to think that *I* had such bad aim with my vomit and just left it there like irresponsible decor that announces my breakfast choices. But I wasn’t gonna clean up someone else’s bug juice. I did a great job vomiting, not a drop outside the toilet.

After puking I felt much better but went back to the cabin to take a nap. It really was still just too early in the morning. Mr. W went to have lunch on his own, and when he came back, he offered me a white folded-up paper bag. “I was just at the infirmary,” he announced. “It’s full of sick people. People are all green walking around the ship. But here’s a barf bag for your seasickness.” “I am NOT seasick,” I announced. After I threw up, I wasn’t sick again for the remainder of the voyage, even tho I heard people who were actually seasick were sick for most of the day. For the next few days, every time we saw the bag on the windowsill in our cabin, I’d say, “What’s that? Oh, that’s your barf bag.” “No, it’s YOUR barf bag,” he’d say. “It’s YOUR barf bag cuz you went and got it, and I’m not seasick.” “Yes you were, it’s YOUR barf bag.”

Mr. W didn’t know about my barfing experience until yesterday. He heard me tell the story to someone else (sans the barefoot detail) and he asked, “Is that where you disappeared off to? Were you upset that I wasn’t there to hold your hair up for you?” Ew, no. I wouldn’t have wanted him there. He would’ve blamed the poorly aimed upchuck on ME, and used it to say that I was seasick.