Hell & Agony

I KILLED myself getting ready to host our family Thanksgiving dinner: shopping, food prep, decorating, cleaning, getting the kids & hubby ready, and a million other hostessing chores...  Company was arriving, the house was bustling with activity, the food was 10 minutes away from being served piping hot...  when I snatched a juicy morsel of turkey meat from the platter hubby was carving-crispy skin an' all-and chomped & gulped in a single swallow.  And that was THE END of my Thanksgiving.  I knew it instantly by the agony & hell of the red hot poker that was stabbing & radiating screaming pain from the center of my chest.  So I delayed the prayer by 10 minutes, politely excused myself to my room to "freshen up," and gagged and heaved and sweated and PB'ed and slimed for all I was worth ....so this is what all those blogging gals have been talking about... and still the agony wouldn't let up.  When I came out of my room, I had barf dribble on my dress, my cardigan was inside out (my niece informed the entire room), my eyes were swollen, my make up smeared, and my eyes glazed, and my hair twisted in a sweaty knot.  And it went downhill from there.  I filled a plate (even though my shoulder/collar bone had a screaming knot of agony in it) and tried to sit and eat and have polite conversation when all I wanted to do was take off my tights and dress and lay on the cool floor naked and slime til the end of time ...So this is how the cat  feels when she's working up a hairball... Instead I excused myself five more times from the table...  each time returning to the table looking more strung out, stained, red & puffy, and sweaty than the time before.  I couldn't even pretend to carry on a conversation let alone take a sip of water...which instantly came back up.  And I ran...  Y'all I am a big believer in manners and grace under fire...  But I ain't gonna lie...I was a HOT MESS.  I was acting more suspicious than a crack whore at a baptism...  and would have gladly traded places with one at the moment.

Laws y'all...  worst experience EVER.  But somehow I paced and slimed and PB'ed my way through Thanksgiving-even changed out of my barf stained dress and managed to keep my tights on.  It was about 4 hours later when I could finally manage to eat a small plate. By then it had all dried out of course from sitting out on the counter...

So it's official: I am now in the PB/Slime LB Club and even survived the drooling in public initiation.  Thank the Lord, IT'S DONE.  If I don't see another turkey for 10 years, it will be too soon...