This low, according to the text I sent my dad after the incident, ranks in the top 5 most traumatic moments of my life. 

My best friend from college wanted to go home for her birthday weekend. She had no plans at PSU, and she was starting to miss her family. All semester, she had been mentioning how she wanted to bring me home with her at some point. Now seemed like the perfect time. I offered to drive her home because I had no other plans (shoutout to my high-school AP credits that technically make me a “sophomore,” thus able to have my car on campus). 

I was excited to celebrate Ally’s birthday with her. I also wanted to see how her life had been before college and what it is like when she’s not on campus. It’s funny how you can know someone so well at Penn State, yet know nothing about their family, house, pets, or other things that are so important to them. 

I guess I should put in a warning: if you are uncomfortable reading about slightly gross topics, you might want to stop now. This low gets kind of nasty. 

I woke up on Friday morning feeling very bloated. I wrote it off as nothing.

I went to CAS at 9 and still felt pretty normal. Then, I decided to go to the gym before Ally (my friend) and I left to go to her house in Gettysburg. It was leg day, so when I felt a little nauseous during my workout I thought nothing of it. I go hard on leg day. Nausea is par for the course. 

I finished my workout, but I still didn’t feel great. “Maybe I’m just dehydrated,” I thought. I walked to my car and loaded up my stuff, then picked Ally up outside of Atherton. We got on the road to Gettysburg, and the trip was smooth sailing (for the first half-hour).

The drive to Gettysburg is very pretty, but also very curvy and hilly. About 40 minutes into the drive, I started feeling more nauseous. “Great,” I thought, “2 hours on windey roads when my stomach is upset. What an ideal situation.” I chose to ignore my nausea and kept driving. 

When we were about 30 minutes away from Gettysburg, I started feeling even sicker. I thought I had to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to stop. Gettysburg is in the middle of nowhere; to get there, it’s miles and miles of highway surrounded by cornfields, not a gas station in sight. I proceeded to go 80 miles per hour where the limit was 55 to get to Ally’s house (and her bathroom) as fast as possible. I didn’t tell Ally what was wrong.

When we got to her house, I ran inside. Evidently, needing to use the bathroom was not my problem. We sat down in Ally’s room for a little while to decompress from driving. Her mom came home, barging through the door carrying a tray of cupcakes she needed to frost.

I felt so sick, I probably made a horrible first impression. All I could do as Ally’s mom wished her a happy birthday and began to pipe icing was sit at the kitchen table, head in my hands, willing my stomach to stop gurgling and cramping. Everyone else was chatting happily, and Ally’s poor family must’ve thought I was the most morose house-guest ever. 

I went outside to get my stuff out of my car, and as soon as I walked out her front door I knew it had not been a good idea to leave my safe chair at the kitchen table. Ally had followed me outside, and I looked at her and said, without warning, “I’m gonna hurl.”

I hadn’t told her how sick I felt because I didn’t want her to worry about me, and I didn’t want to make a big deal about it in front of her parents. 

I proceeded to puke all over her lawn.

We got our stuff, walked back inside, and as we were passing through her kitchen (where her mom was still making cupcakes), Ally said, “Mom, Mara just puked in the front lawn. Don’t let the dogs eat it.” 

I had been totally willing to not say anything about the vomit. Just a little secret between Ally and I. No one else needed to know.

Apparently not.

Ally and her mom began to fuss over me and offered soup, gatorade, and pepsin pills to settle my stomach. I felt completely normal after throwing up, but I was completely mortified. I can’t believe that was Ally’s family’s first impression of me. I will forever be the girl who threw up on the front lawn. Definitely a low. 

It’s been 24 hours since the event, and all I have eaten since is a can of chicken noodle soup and a cinnamon twist from Domino’s (worth the intestinal pain after ingestion). I am scared to eat anything else.

My high was that it was really fun to meet Ally’s family (besides the throwing up part). Her dogs and horses are super cute, and it’s always nice to get off campus when I have a chance.