This morning on the way back from the supermarket Cappy turns to me and says "If you're using terms like 'I'm usually okay with this food', then you know you shouldn't be eating it."
Rewind 24 hours and you would have found me browsing raw vegan sweet treats. Oh my god, so yum! Gluten free, dairy free and refined sugar free. What could possibly go wrong, right?
Gah, bloody FODMAPS, you're such a jerk. While the rest of the glutey world can enjoy these kind of sweet noms, I apparently can't.
The problem with raw, vegan sweet noms is that they're very high in FODMAPS foods like dried fruit and nuts. As I've mentioned previously, if you've got FODMAPS issues, you don't necessarily react to every high FODMAPS food, so it's a bit of trial and error to work out what you can and can't eat. Admittedly, I had noticed rumblings when I'd eaten these kind of foods before, but what was to occur later in the day, blew these previous rumblings to smithereens.
So for anyone who's ever wondered what it's like when I eat something I shouldn't have, here goes (note, have very heavily edited to prevent readers from vomiting).
Phase one: Something's a stirring
"Hmm, my stomach is vaguely hurting, I think I'll just go to the loo." Returns from loo, feeling a bit squiffy but determined to keep working.
Two minutes later ...
Phase two: Holy sh*t! (or as I like to call it 'Justification for my toilet paper obsession')
The ideal scenario when you reach phase two is that you're at home, there's a tonne of toilet paper stacked nearby and no one is within hearing or smelling distance.
However, I of course was at work. The next 30 minutes was spent almost exclusively in a bathroom as far away from our office as I could manage.
I can't even begin to describe the pain - but it's pretty bad. I won't go into details, but this is a pretty good visual summary:
In between toilet visits, I was attempting to work, but this was proving to be a challenge, as my brain was otherwise occupied with:
a) trying not to throw up (yup, nausea kicked in too)
b) deep breathing (the kind you're told to do when you're going into labour)
c) sweating, while feeling both hot and cold, and;
d) calculating how many seconds it would take to get from the office back to the bathroom
By this time I was having difficulty hiding just how rotten I was feeling and my workmates had started gently suggesting that maybe it was time to go home. However I didn't think I'd be able to make it home without doing irreparable damage to the interior of my car.
Half an hour later (or it could have been hours, honestly I'd lost the ability to keep track of time by this point)
Phase three: The end is nigh
Phase three was a good time to go home from work because for a while my stomach had ceased to require quite the level of bathroom attention than it had previously.
So I drove home, carefully and quickly, and immediately crawled into my pajamas.
The pain was still there, except now I could lie on the bed between bathroom breaks, and there was more time between trips to the loo.
Phase four: Zombie
Imagine you've run a marathon, except you came last, everyone else got a medal, and you got a kick to the stomach instead. Yup, that's phase four.
Eventually the pain subsided, and so did the bathroom visits. However I'm exhausted, emotional and weak as a kitten.
And don't even think about touching my stomach or mentioning food because NO.
Phase five: Regrets and continued zombie
This is me today: I'm feeling sorry for myself, I'm angry at myself for eating something I shouldn't have, and I'm exhausted, foggy-brained, sore in the stomach, and moody.
Phase five can last for several weeks. Sigh.
All I can say is sorry to everyone who has to deal with me for the next little while. I think I've learnt my lesson this time, honest.