So Wikki’s wedding is just about a month away. You may remember my dress ramblings from this post. Let me just put it out there that while I did lose a couple pounds, I did not lose the 20 that I was planning for.
I have been sweating this fitting for the past couple of months. So, in an effort to suppress my appetite, I started drinking the lo-cal Red Bull right around the time we had the original fitting. I like that shit. I would actually go as far as to say that I LOVE it. Secretly. I was keeping my Red Bull addiction a secret from HP. I would drink one mid morning and dispose of the evidence.
Anyway, fast forward to last week. Wormy asked if I wanted to go with her Saturday to get fitted. We could do that, grab some lunch, and just have a nice little day together. I called the dress shop for an appointment…whoever answered was kinda short with me, so that only heightened my anxiety about the fitting. But hell, what’s the worst that could happen? My boobs pour out the top? I can’t breathe? Who needs to breathe anyway. And if anyone was mean at the fitting, I had full confidence that Wormy would nip that in the bud. She is not one to take piss poor attitudes lightly.
I am convinced that I sort of have an idea where this dress shop is. In my mind, it will take about 40 minutes to get there. I think that it is North. Since I live north of Pittsburgh, I thought that it would be best for Wormy to meet at my house and we could go from there.
The first mistake we made was to not immediately put the address into the GPS. I’m driving down 28, trying to do it then. STUPID!! I realize we are going the wrong damn way. It’s ok though, we have time, it’s only ten after one.
We get turned around and I realize that I have no damn clue what I am talking about. The GPS takes us all the way back to near where Wormy lives. Apparently I was not only wrong on the town, but wrong on the direction as well. Sorry Wormy.
We’re just driving along, chatting away. I’m telling Wormy about all of these stomach problems that I have been having. Nausea, vomiting…the whole nine. I have been feeling like total shit for a couple months and since there is no chance that I could be pregnant, I have no idea what the hell could possibly be wrong.
Since it took us forever to actually go the right way, we are late. I park my truck at what I think is about a block from the dress shop. WRONG!! We are walking and walking and WALKING. We don’t get there for about 6 blocks. By the time we walk in we are almost a half hour late for our appointment.
We go back into one of the dressing rooms. Wormy hooks me in to what I like to call a chastity belt for the tits. I had it left over from my wedding. We spend the next 15 minutes trying to figure out how to put the dresses on. Step in or over the head? What is up with these ties? What is this thing for? Where is the opening?
The dress fitter lady comes in and proceeds to suffocate me with her corset tying. Just when I think she can’t get it any tighter, she does. I am not 100% sure that I will be able to sit down in this dress, but damn, do I look good.
Since I am short (only 5’3), she has to hem it up. As she is pinning the hem, the familiar waves of nausea start to roll over me. Along with the nausea comes anxiety. I begin to worry…what if I have to puke right now and I puke all over this dress? The dress fitter? I begin to chart my plan. I am sure I could make it to the bathroom if I had to.
I start to sweat. My hands are clammy. I need to sit. I need a drink of water. I can’t fucking breathe. The lady is finally done hemming me and Wormy and I change back into our clothes. Wormy is not aware that I am on the verge of projectile vomiting all over this dress shop…she is chatting up the receptionist, asking where is a good place for lunch.
Sigh. It is after 3. I know that neither one of us has had a bite to eat yet today…we were trying to not be puffy for the fitting. How can I tell Wormy that I am feeling sick, that I can’t eat, after I got us lost and we just spent the last 2 hours in the car?
We walk outside and she says, “Now don’t you feel relieved? The dress fit perfectly.”
“I’m gonna puke.” I said back. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” I tell her this happens to me on the daily anymore, I hate it! I can’t take it.
We get into my truck. She looks at me. She looks at my cup holder. She looks back to me and says, “Hot Mama…just how long exactly have you been drinking Red Bull?”
“A few months? I don’t know, why do you ask?” I answer. “And you have been getting sick for how long now?” I pause. I think. Wormy says, “You dumb ass…quit drinking the Red Bull!! It’s making you sick!”
At that, I swerve into an Aspen Dental parking lot. I am going to toss my cookies for sure. Wormy asks if she can take a picture of me puking. I call her an ass and stomp off to puke alone.
I feel much better instantly (after all, it was just Red Bull in my stomach), but Wormy offers to drive my truck the rest of the way home and I let her. I sit in the passenger seat feeling rather sheepish. I can’t believe I have been making my own self sick with Red Bull. Fuckin Red Bull. Grrrrrrrr.
We get back to my house and Wormy comes in…she needs to sit for a few minutes and chill before she drives home. It’s been a long ass day. We are sitting on my back porch and HP joins us. We tell him all about the fitting and getting lost and about me puking in the parking lot. Wormy says, “I figured out what is wrong with your wife. It’s all that damn Red Bull she has been drinking.” HP looks at me. “Red Bull?” he says, “you don’t drink Red Bull.” I feel my face flushing. I look down. “You have been hiding Red Bull from me?” he asks. “That is pretty much the stupidest thing I have ever heard of. My wife is a junkie. I can‘t believe this.” I tell him I had my last can today and I will NEVER be drinking it again. He tells me that is what all the hard core addicts say.
Hi my name is Hot Mama and I am a Red Bull addict. It has been two days since my last can of Red Bull. Just taking it one day at a time people.