MC, Day 9

I can't believe I'm on Day 10. Already. It actually feels like it's gone by in a flash.

Yesterday was the horrible, wretched, no-good awfulness that was Day 9.

This post, unfortunately, will include some talk about that time of the month. Boys, avert your gaze lest your eyeballs burn out of your skulls over such unmentionable talk.

Day 9 brought, along with the most uncomfortable period I've ever had, A PIMPLE. They go hand-in-hand, I know, but after enjoying and abusing my newly lovely and soft skin, it was a shocker to wake up to.

I have tried not to talk about any bodily functions because ... well, ew. I don't want to hear about them and I don't want to talk about them, no matter how relevant they are to the cleanse (they are). But this one bears typing, because HOLY CHEESES, the cramps. The cramps!

I've never been much of a cramper. I lucked out with my (almost always) iron-clad stomach and my lack of cramps. But yesterday. Oh, yesterday! I was literally doubled over in pain, clutching at my abdomen and trying not to squeak from the hot white daggers being stabbed into me, slowly and reflectively, by a completely maniacal sadist. It was THAT BAD. It made me want to promptly schedule a C-section for when/if I have babies. It made me want to never ever have babies. OW.

In giving up food, I had also decided, arrogantly, to give up all forms of medicine during this cleanse. My mother tells me (repeatedly. Some might call this 잔소리. Hi, Mom!) that I depend too much on drugs. I tell her that if I have a headache, what else am I supposed to do? I cannot take to my bed with a compress perched upon my head, I have work to do!

So to appease my mother and supposedly save my liver, no medication, no drinking, no nothing during this cleanse. My liver has been resting peacefully for the past week and a half, with nothing to do but yawn. Recuperating from the shoddy treatment over the past few years, no doubt.

Yesterday, in the face of such pain and horror, I caved. I took one Excedrin (I usually take two). I left work, went home, slapped on a heating pad (TheraCare is my new best friend), climbed into flannel pajamas, and with my steamy hot laptop perched on my lap for an extra boost of heat, I worked from home.

At some point, I realized I had a fever. The pain plus the fever equaled me wanting to throw up repeatedly. I am a stubborn, hard-headed girl, though, so I kept the nausea (and stomach bile) down and kept working. I believe this is what they call "being a workaholic."

The silver lining of this literal belly-aching yesterday was that when my roommate came home and began cooking and eating, I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn't even want to smell it, it was making me feel so ill.

The bad news: I only managed to drink about half a liter yesterday, and maybe a liter of water. Not enough fluids. I tried to force more down, but it just wasn't going to happen. It wasn't the lack of food that was bothering me yesterday, it was the hideous process that allows me to dwell, every month, on the fact that I have one less chance of having a kid. Oh, the fun!

Day 10 is fine so far. ThermaCare packages the type of heating pad that I bought in threes, so I threw one on at home and the pain has been manageable (so far) without any Excedrin. Hopefully I don't keel over from the pain later. If I don't post tomorrow, it will have something to do with this, undoubtedly.