I've been really sick the last few days, doing nothing but sleeping and drinking water. I've always sort of thought that guys are really stubborn about pain, to the point that we're kind of just dumb about it. "Yeah, there's a nail through my finger. No, I don't need a bandaid, it'll be fine."
Now fixing nails through fingers.
But. BUT. When it comes to being sick, we're the biggest freaking babies on the planet. And no one is guiltier of this than me. The moment I get a cold I'm acting like I'm on my deathbed. I've actually texted friends things like, "I won't make it to morning" (flu) or "If I don't make it, tell my grandma I love her" (allergies). Pain, I can handle, but being sick? Not a chance.
And nothing is bigger proof of this than the other day. I've been fighting a pretty severe stomach flu, but at first I had no idea what it was. Being a massive baby, I automatically assumed the worst. WebMD assured me it was not spontaneous combustion, which was good, but said it was probably appendicitis. These were my first thoughts: "I'm going to die."
The end of me.
Unfortunately it's like that every time I get sick. I get really dramatic and whiny, and usually someone will offer to come over with soup or medicine. Then I get embarrassed for being dramatic and whiny, say it's okay, wait a day and then if I'm not better I continue the histrionics.
I hope all the female viewers are thinking, "Damn, this guy is a catch." Sup, ladies.
In any case, I've barely done that this time around. I mean, I did it a little. To one person. But other than that, I've been good about not exaggerating how close to death's door I am.
Now I must go take anywhere between 10-15 more ibuprofen and pass out. Hope everyone is having a good weekend!
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