Random Childhood Memory #3

Random memory #3 is less of a memory and more of a childhood behaviour which directly relates to what I have to say about yesterday's lunch.

Yesterday's lunch was a lunch pack from the local Chinese store - steamed rice with chicken and veg. Frankly, I'm not a big fan of Chinese food; not the kind you get in Australia anyway. As a general rule, I don't really eat it any more. When you see it in food court windows, it's always formed it's own gooey, gelatinous semi-gloss coating that is anything but appealing – so why eat it when there are other, better options like Japanese food or Indian food?

KJ doesn't feel the same way about it and constantly requests that we have Chinese for lunch. Yesterday in a rare moment of food weakness, I finally agreed. So I ate the food without really enjoying it but since lunch didn't last long, it was gone and forgotten 10 minutes later.

2 hours later however, I got a reminder in the form of stabbing stomach pains.

Food poisoning.

I've been up all night trying to squeeze in a few moments of sleep without the constant stomach pains. They're still here, and every time I have one, it's like a painful little punch in the stomach while someone yells at me “You don't eat Chinese food! This will teach you!”

These stomach pains are probably a lot worse given the fact that I haven't been able to throw up and rid my body of what's left of this nasty food. Why not, I hear you not wanting to ask?

Well, that brings us to Random Memory #3:
When I was little, we had a sandpit in our backyard. My brother and I loved this sandpit and played in it every day. My brother is 2 years older than I am, so I was playing in it before I even had any idea what a sandpit was, which is probably the main reason that I became a sand eater. That's right - I used to eat sand, and not just the odd handful. Like any kid, I put the stuff in my mouth to try it out, I just didn't stop. I ate big handfuls of the stuff, and even after my mum tried to discourage it and even took me to a doctor to make sure it wouldn't hurt me, I kept on eating.

It's weird and kind of embarrassing behaviour, but I think it did me a favour in later life. By sending what is basically granulated glass through my body every day, i'm sure I created some sort of protective scar covering to my stomach, which has meant that I haven't thrown up since I was about 12. The only exceptions I can think of are drunken throwing up (which still didn't happen as often as it should have) and when I was 18 and had glandular fever (although I was sick enough to be hospitalised, so I count that out too).

I've never caught a stomach bug, even while living with someone who had it and i've never had a bad reaction to dodgy food, even when it affected others.


So it must have been some seriously bad food to make me feel this crappy. Damn you, Chinese food! I will never eat you again!!!