Happiest Place on Earth

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My hands were around his neck, his around my waist. It was my junior homecoming, my first dance as an upperclassman. I tried to look like one too, even though it’s harder at 5’3”. We slow danced to a song the DJ layered a heavy bass over while others danced along. A year ago, I felt nauseous more and began throwing up. Hours and hours of doctor’s appointments yielded no diagnosis. Two days before, I had thrown up, which I prayed wouldn’t give me trouble tonight. The music continued to blast and I thought of any possible relief, water coming to mind. As I looked around, I realized that the miniature bottles of water provided by the school were carelessly left half drunk and opened on the tables and counters, leaving no water for those who could really use some, like me.

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The reason why I mention this is because, as we danced, I felt like I was gonna hurl, like that one time at Disneyland four years ago, when I threw up in front of my at-the-time crush, too. And my whole eighth grade class. It was after the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. I felt a strange pressure in my chest. I knew from that moment on that I needed to find a bathroom just on the off chance that I was to throw up. Someone had told me that there was a bathroom in the Pirate restaurant, so I went in frantically looking for a bathroom. There wasn’t. I could feel a tightening in my throat, a horrible migraine making me feel weak and dizzy. So, when I met my little group to wait for the others to join us, I felt something start to come up my throat. I hurried to at least find a trash can, but before I made it, I threw up. Right as my crush walked by. Happiest place on earth my ass. I definitely didn’t feel so happy when that morning’s frozen lemonade was coming back up in front of half my school. Once I was sitting on a bench, Mickey came up and gave me a bottle of water, which was kind of cute that they got Mickey out there for me. Maybe it takes so long to see Mickey because he’s going around giving free water bottles to kids like me.

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Remembering this incident on the dance floor that homecoming night, I thought: maybe I’m just supposed to throw up in front of all of the guys I like. That could be my thing or something. When I looked up at him (why is he so god damn tall. I always get the weirdest view of him when I look up-- all nostrils and nothing else), he was looking into my eyes as if he was going to kiss me. We continued to dance. Please, for the love of God, don’t kiss me, I thought. Not thinking of his feelings, I turned my head to the ground, attempting to dissuade him from leaning in. What if he leaned in to kiss me and I threw up afterwards? Definitely not the best way to end his first kiss. Goddamn do I like you, but please don’t kiss me now, I doubt puking all over you would be romantic.

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I felt so wronged by my own body, which at this point I was a little too used to. I was always throwing up or breaking out into hives. At least my parents don’t get to accuse me of being a sassy teenager when I lock myself in my room-- chances are I have a migraine or am about to throw up, definitely not something they want to be around. Moments like this one were not rare to me, though it would especially suck on a night that’s supposed to be couple-y.

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Everything aside, I made it through the night without barfing all over his new vest, which was a very good thing. Definitely more fun than my eighth grade Disneyland trip.