My first pregnancy put an end to pointless gagging. I think my body saw it as an inefficiency that needed to be stopped. There would be no more gagging, just vomiting. I starting throwing up at 7 weeks and I didn't stop until 41 weeks, 3 days, when I was (finally) holding my fat, slimy little daughter. I threw up at home. I threw up at church. I threw up at school. I threw up in the car, on the road, in parking lots, and in the grocery store. Sometimes I made it to the bathroom, sometimes... not so much. It didn't matter what I ate, it didn't matter what voodoo home remedies I tried. Nothing stopped it, and so... I learned to be really good at throwing up. I stopped fighting it, and just did it.
Here is the miracle. After I had my baby, nothing, and I mean nothing could make me feel even remotely sick or gaggish. It was like the vomiting was the crucible that burned away my gaggyness. (WARNING - I am now going to tell you some of the gross things that should make me sick, but totally don't... so, if you're a gagger, you might want to skip this part.) I have literally wiped my child's nose with my bare hand and wiped it on my leg. Worse than that, I have wiped the nose of a child to whom I did not give birth, with my bare hand and wiped it on my leg. I have picked my child's binky out of the bark chips at the park and used my mouth to clean it off. I have eaten a left over peanut butter and jelly sandwich that had been left on the counter over night, simply because I didn't have the energy to make something new. (Don't pretend like you haven't done some of these people.) I have had baby throw up in my hair and wondered if I should just put on a hat. I promise you- I am not totally disgusting. I am just... desensitized- like one of those soldiers that has to go through those secret army torture courses, so that they won't break when captured by the enemy. It just so happens that the enemy that has captured me is code named "you've got three kids, deal with it". (By the way - I haven't even given them my real name yet, let alone my rank and serial number. Take that rebel insurgents.)
I have turned into a pretty tough girl. Today, however, I think I met my match. I was doing the grocery shopping while my three year old slept in the cart (speaking of miracles) when I happened upon a man - clipping his fingernails. In the grocery store. Where I was buying food. Now men, maybe no one has ever told you, but - this is not okay. The clipping of the nails is an activity that should be confined to the house. Your house. The clipping of the nails is not an activity that should be done at church (I have witnessed this on more than one occasion), in the movie theatre while waiting for the featured presentation, or in the grocery store.
Also, where the heck are your wives that should be putting an end to such nonsense? C'mon ladies, step it up. Think to yourself "would I have married _____ (insert husband's name here) if I'd have seen him doing ___________ (insert questionable activity here) in public?" If the answer is "no", then no matter how much you love him, what your husband is doing is grossing us out and you need to tell him to "stop it now, everyone is staring". In the case of the grocery-store-groomer, his wife was next to him pushing the cart and giving me a look that clearly said "you're disgusting" as I doubled over and gagged a huge pregnant gag. As far as I'm concerned she should just be happy that a little pee didn't come out with the offending gag. I know I was. (Not glamorous, but true. Sorry.)
Clearly there are some things that a girl and her reflexes just can't get past, and for me public grooming is the crunchy cooked spider of social interaction. I mean, even the best soldiers have their limits, and today amid the nail clippings and canned peaches, I definately found mine.