Happy New Year everyone! Hope that yours was fabulously fun and/or messy. Mine was...well, it was NOT at all what I expected and totally the kind of thing that would only happen to me. Thankfully, I learned something pretty important during the process.
As you can see from the picture above, and below, I did wear my dress that night. I picked it up from the alterations place in Palm Springs just before I left last Thursday and thankfully the woman did a great job of taking it in.
Then I decided to add my own touch by means of red ribboned shoes and a touch of it at my waist, to accent my weight loss. Which, BTW, is now ten pounds! Woot! I haven't been 128 for some time, and while people say I look good, they aren't putting their finger on the weight loss, but you know that's quite fine. I feel better about myself, I have more confidence and that's what matters. Oh and I'm quite proud I did it the healthy way.
Anyhoo, so everything was going to plan. I was going to look great, feel great and party hard at my boyfriend's party. In fact, I felt so good on the morning of December 31st that I didn't even care anymore if bitchy girl was gonna be there. I just wanted to ring in the New Year (and our six-month anniversary) with the man I loved.
Of course, it didn't help that I woke up at 830 AM that morning, even though I was looking forward to sleeping in all day. So I guess I was a little bit tired, plus I had these remnants of a cold/flu that I had picked up in Palm Springs. But I still felt good enough to start getting ready and clean up my apartment.
Then at 330PM, disaster struck. For no apparent reason, I suddenly felt very nauseous, very dizzy, my head was pounding and I felt feverish. I also had the sudden urge to start crying and/or screaming.
Before you go ahead and say it's PMS, let me just say I wish it was as simple as that. But you see, my period just ended - or should I say, it SHOULD have ended. I actually missed my period last week for the first time ever, and yes that would be cause for paranioa and alarm, but I just didn't think pregnancy was on the cards. I blamed the missed period on my sudden weight loss and hardcore excercising, plus I'm on a new pill, yadda yadda.
BUT because I had missed my period, I started to think that maybe this was all signs I was pregnant. So that didn't help my suddenly extremely emotional state. Regardless though, I made sure to eat more (in case I hadn't eaten enough that day) and devoured a bag of popcorn (carbs) and a can of tuna (protein) then I drank oodles of water. Then I had a very short nap, woke up feeling a bit woozy but OK, but then 10 minutes later I was back to wanting to puke, wanting to cry, wanting to die.
How could this happen to me on NYE of all times? Half of me wanted to just not go out and go to sleep but I knew I would regret it (or so I thought) and I know my bf would be devestated if I weren't there at his party. So I sucked it up, picked up a friend of mine and we raced to the liqour store. We decided to have a mickey of vodka, champagne and alize (don't worry, in the end, I didn't even open the bottle of vodka).
When we arrived at my bfs place, we were early as we knew we would be so we slowly started drinking. I had champagne with some alize in it but KNOWING how sick I still felt, I decided to pace myself and drink a bottle of water in between each glass. Then I made sure to feast on the delicious cookies my friend had made. I was being sensible.
And I have to admit, I started to feel better. All in all, I finished the bottle of champagne (as well as some of the alize and a glass of red wine) over the course of 4or 5 hours, as well as drinking water too. Now, it normally takes shots or a huge shit mix, or drinking quickly or not eating to get me really drunk. So I was a bit surpised when I found myself suddenly feeling quite wasted (and crying, over nothing really, as emotional as I was). And then came the puking.
It kicked in at about 1AM or a bit after.
I found myself in my bf's bathroom (his toilet is in a seperate room, thank God, I didn't want to hog that), sprawled on the floor and bent over the bathtub.
And I puked and I puked and I puked.
FOR THREE HOURS!
And the most AMAZING thing ever is that my wonderful, beautiful boyfriend stayed with me the ENTIRE time. He held back my hair, cleaned up my puke and missed the last half of his own damn party, just to stay with me and make sure I was OK.
When we finally emerged at 430AM, I felt like shit. Not because I had emptied my guts out for hours on end, but because I ruined my boyfriend's night. I feel so badly, even now, that he is THAT good to me. I've had so many people telling me what a great man he is and the thing is I KNEW THAT BEFORE. I didn't think he could get any better, any lovelier but then he goes and does that.
I'm sorry, but "love" to me isn't shown by a guy who writes you sweet poems but never acts upon them, a guy who will buy you presents and take you out for dinner all the time yet leave you with a sense of not knowing how he feels. Love is not some beefy, model dude that all the girls drool over. Love is not having a man with a high paying, amazing job.
Love is having a man who misses his own party to spend the night with you, holding back your hair and cleaning up your vomit. A man who sees you at your absolute WORST and still tells you how much he loves you. That, my friends, is what love is and on NYE (and our six month anniversary) I discovered how much my Rockstar really loves me and that he's definitely the man I want to marry. Plain and simple.
Of course, I still don't really know what is wrong with me. I was toying between pregnancy or food poisoning and I'm leaning towards the latter. I took a pregnancy test yesterday and it was negative but I know they can be wrong so I am going to go to the doctor as well. But I still don't feel 100%, I still feel a bit nauseous. I have no idea how long it takes for food poisoning to hit, it could have been this chicken cacciatore frozen meal I had had earlier that day, or prawns from a few nights before. I don't know, really. All I know is that there was something wrong. I rarely EVER puke from drinking, and it's always self-induced the next morning. It doesn't come suddenly, for three hours, over a bottle of champagne. Plus, I felt like shit before I started drinking too.
All in all though, it was a night to remember (though I'm trying not to, lol) and hell, 2008 can only get better from here on in!!!!