Never trust a fart

Warning. This blog post contains strong imagery. Reader discretion advised.

Oh punters, I have been poorly. I have managed to stride through the winter, watching my family fall to the dreaded flu one after the other. But not me. I WAS A FEIRCE MOTHERFUCKING WARRIOR WOMAN WHO WILL SLAY ANY VIRUS THAT CROSSES MY PATH!

The small one fell first. That nasty ass cold came a calling.

And then the big one had to take a whole week off. Then Mr. Woog, who is always a late adopter, decided last week was his turn. (He was a complete pain in the ass by the way) My house was HOSPITAL GRADE disinfected from top to bottom as I smugly went about my business of being a fully paid up decent member of society. Oh, and medicine dispenser. And generally being chirpy thinking how clever my immune system was.

I didn’t touch the wood.

I didn’t cross my fingers, hope to die. I didn’t stick a needle in my eye.

I got the motherload of all sicknesses. I got a stomach flu. A stomach flu is the term that you use in polite company.

Gastroenteritis, also known as infectious diarrhea, is inflammation of the gastrointestinal tract that involves the stomach and small intestine. Signs and symptoms include some combination of diarrhea, vomiting, and abdominal pain. Fever, lack of energy, and dehydration may also occur.

After a completely thrilling night on Friday night of watching the footy for a few minutes, I bade my family a good night sleep and hit the sack. Because clearly I am a party animal.

The next morning I woke and stretched out. I was pleased to note that Mr. Woog had delivered me a coffee with the Sydney Morning Herald! Well played my good man. Well played indeed. So I opened the curtains to let the sun shine in, sipped on my beverage and flicked through the news. Standard Saturday practice now that there is no sport on. I finished my coffee and felt an uncomfortable twinge in my guts. The twinge travelled further up into my guts and OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO THROW UP…..

I leapt from my bed and ran faster than the crowd on Aldi Special Saturdays who want a cheap outdoor set, towards the bathroom.

Now, it is not scientifically proven, but I strongly believe that there is a link in seeing a latrine and the actual exit of the vomit. Had I keep my eyes closed, I am fairly sure that I would have been able to deposit said vomit into the actual toilet, but because I clocked it, out it come. No where near the toilet mind you. That shitter was sparking! But every other surface that was available to me. And then I farted.

I think I will leave the rest up to your imagination. And of course this plague hit me on a weekend that I had actual fun things planned which had to be cancelled. But being an optimist, there were a few key positive takeaways.

  • I was largely left alone for the entire weekend apart from a few mates who came over and popped their heads into the bedroom to tell me how shocking I looked.
  • I discovered Schitts Creek on Netflix and watched a whole series in between writhing in agony and trying to avoid shitting ones pants.
  • Weight loss factor of 1.5kgs
  • Not having to cook or do any washing or other boring shit.
  • Having plenty of long hot showers and being able to utilise the clothes that are in my bottom drawer. These are my super special clothes that should have been chucked out years ago. Like my revolting faded black drop crotch Seed track pants and my daggy second hand cashmere mens jumper. Shut up! They make me feel better…
  • No bra!
  • Pretending to be asleep when one of my family members remembered that I was dying and came in to check on me, so I didn’t have to talk to them.
  • Getting out of Huffy Puffy this morning.

Three days on and the bra is back baby! I am drinking water without fear or consequences and I ate a piece of vegemite toast this morning quite normally. Sure, my stomach is still feels like I have intestinal surgery from heaving so enthusiastically for 24 hours, but I do believe I am on the mend.

In closing, I would like to thank my youngest son Jack for the head pats and the toast that I tried to eat on Saturday afternoon. Apart from him, everyone else was totally useless.

Anyone else got the Stomach Flu this season?

How much weight did you lose?