I've never been much of a morning person, and as it turns out I'm even less of a morning sickness person. So far a normal ride on the subway has been transformed into a roller coaster ride from the traveling carnival off the highway that you know you shouldn't get on, but you've had a few beers and a couple corndogs so what the hell.
Being in a car for too long is like a special kind of torture- front seat, back seat it doesn't matter. I have moments that are more intense than others. I call them my "Tower of Terror" times of the day. Where I just have to suck it up, breathe deeply and let the waves of nausea pass. Fortunately, it’s only a happened a
few times on stage- my husband CJ happened to be at one of the shows. He saw the waves hit, saw my face turn an interesting shade of green and braced himself
to watch his lovely wife puke all over the front row of her audience. Thank goodness for
him AND my audience- nothing of the kind happened. In fact it NEVER happens. I
haven’t thrown up since I had food poisoning a few years ago when I was on Imus- or it could have been working so closely with that special kind of evil that induced vomiting. I'm not entirely sure now. It's not that I’m
asking for a repeat, but there is the thought in the back of my head that maybe
just maybe if I "got sick" the nausea would dissipate and I could go on with my
day. But instead I just have constant mouthwatering, that crazy metal taste in
my mouth like I'm sucking on a lesbian's key chain and never-ending queasiness. And can I just say morning sickness my ass! This is the part that gets me- it MUST have been a
man who named it "morning sickness". Well, I ‘d like to have a word with him
because I feel dandy in the AM. It’s from about 11 o’clock/12 PM on -until I go to sleep at night that I want
to guzzle Pepto Bismol like it's going out of style. But I can’t because it’s not good for Baby.
So I have
become a devotee of ginger ale, ginger candy, ginger snaps, ginger beer, ginger tea, reruns of Gilligan'sIsland where Ginger has the most lines. Its sick. Oh, AND now I carry Saltines
with me everywhere I go. On the subway train, I got ‘em, in the dressing
room at Macy’s I got ‘em. At the Opera- yep – that would be me trying to make sure I open
the loud ass plastic bag when the cymbals are clanging not when the Soprano has a solo.