When it comes to minor illnesses, there are two types.
There’s cute sick and there’s ugly sick.
Cute sick is when you have the common cold and you get all sniffly and shivery and maybe have a sore throat. You curl up with a blanket and a cup of tea and don’t leave your bed all day. Maybe you read a book or instagram your tea or post on facebook about how you hate being sick, and people sympathize with you and offer to make you soup and take care of you.
Ugly sick is when you eat something that disagrees with you and you have a slurry of what I like to call “Pepto-Bismol problems”: nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, and, most importantly, diarrhea. You spend all day on the toilet with a can of air freshener, and every time you do get up, you walk around hunched over because of the searing pain in your gut. When you’re ugly sick, you’re on your own. Nobody wants to read a facebook status about your bowel movements, and you probably can’t even yell for somebody to bring you more toilet paper or imodium because then you’d be openly admitting that you’re having some awful diarrhea, and you don’t want the first thing that people associate you with to be irritable bowels (though they can probably smell it anyway).
But no one has a perfect colon. Even the Queen of England probably gets diarrhea sometimes. So if you’re ever ugly sick and you want someone to comfort you (without going into specifics), just know that I will sympathize with you.



























