Death by Mexican

I love Mexican food. I mean, LOVE it. I could probably eat it every day, for every meal. I spent a week in Mexico and that's all I ate. It was glorious. The only problem is that Mexican does not like me. Every single time I eat it, without fail, I get the most severe indigestion and heartburn. Even though I take prozac every day and NEVER get heartburn. Mexican eliminates the entire drug in my system.

So, a sensible person would probably not eat Mexican, at least, not very frequently. But me? NAH. I eat it all the time. Tonight I took my daughter to a place that gives me the worst indigestion I have ever had, and what did I do? Ate Mexican. I have been severely uncomfortable and even in pain for more than 3 hours now. My stomach acid mocks antacids like Tums. That didn't even work when I was in 5th grade. An entire bottle wouldn't work on it right now. So I don't bother, I am drinking a Mexican beer to make it even worse. Might as well go for the gold.

I have, as you might have guessed, GERD. That is Gastro Esophagal Reflux blah blah blah. It means my stomach acid shoots up my esophagus because my flap SUCKS. That is in human speak. MFS. My Flap Sucks. And so did my digestive life until the creation of the God almighty Prilosec. It made me normal, well, at least my flap normal, and I was gleeful. Of course, my Diverticulosis condition is not really controlled by Prilosec. It certainly seems to be better off with it (for those of you who don't know, diverticulosis is essentially that the inside of my intestines is not flat and smooth, but more of a roller coaster ride, the Fun Person gene is in my intestines). Sometimes things go down the hill and don't come back up the hill. STUCK. And no service emergency team to remove the poor coaster riders. So, it ferments and causes severe pain and eventually you puke your brains out for 2 days. It's so pretty, usually only old people get it, but it runs in my family and I got lucky.

My husband complains that I did not tell him about the defects until after we were married. Like I was gonna tell him THAT. He can live with it, he really doesn't have a choice anymore!

So, back to the Mexican topic. I get so easily distracted. I eat Mexican all the time, I go with my friends, I never complain, and I suffer for hours afterwards. I go with my husband too. I go alone. I take my child. You would think eventually my body would simply refuse to open my mouth and bend my arm to prevent the poison from entering me, but no. I continue to torture myself and I will probably end up dead with a burrito in my hand one day. What a way to go. I hope I get run over by a taco truck while I am eating my burrito. That would be hilarious. None of you could keep a straight face at the funeral. Especially Cindy from college. She got run over by a hot dog cart in NYC (where we went to college) and I laughed my ass off for so long her roommate almost kicked my butt in. She'd probably put a rotten hot dog in my coffin. I would like that. She always did have a sense of humor.

I think I have some burritos in the freezer too....hmmmmmm...ttyl!!!