In my Old Age

In my old age I've found, along with hairs sprouting where they've never sprouted before and my thighs are rolling hills with the consistency of cottage cheese, that my stomach isn't the steel trap that it once was.
I remember being able to go on any amusement park ride over and over again only breaking to eat greasy corndogs and cotton candy. I began to feel the change at about 18 when I exerted all my energy not to throw up on some poor child on the merry-go-round. Merry-go-round? Who came up with that ridiculous name? I dubbed it the Vomit-go-Round.
I avoided most situations that might make me a little sick until one night shortly after Nate and I were married we were walking around the mall and saw a small amusement park set up in the parking lot. You know, the kind of cheap traveling rides that your grandmother warns you never to go on.
We had had a lovely greasy pizza dinner and thought to finish the night off a couple of rides would do the trick. We first went on a ride called the JackHammer the only problem was that the guy closing the doors to the ride had a hard time with the security lock on our seats because Nate was so tall. This did concern Nate a little so he didn't really enjoy the ride as he was searching for anything to hold onto when the door swung open while we were 75 feet in the air.
After the JackHammer we saw a simple ride that had seats just right for two people in love to squeeze into. We cuddled up together, holding hands with big smiles on our faces. Immediately after the ride began I started feeling a little funny. All the stupid ride did was swing us around and around in a big nauseating circle. "Nate, I feel sick." I yelled as quietly as I could. Nate looked at me with big eyes of worry as he tried to remember everything I had eaten that day that might soon appear on his lap.
"Nate, I'm going to be sick." I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head as the ride-o-nausea picked up speed. I slumped back in my seat praying that the ride would break down or at least someone would throw up before I did. After an eternity of hell the ride finally stopped, I jumped up and stumbled away from the crowds of people. I was looking for one thing, I ran like a drunken sailor to the least public trash can I could find; where I immediately proceeded to clear my stomach of all it's contents. Nate stood behind me trying to look supportive but also hoping that no one he knew happened to walk by and see his bride vomiting in a stinking, nasty trash can. Once there wasn't anything left for me to throw up I slowly lifted my head up and stared right into the face of a 4 year old boy trying to enjoy his little boat ride as he sailed past me. Another child slowly floated by staring at me in her little purple boat. In my haste to avoid the crowds that were behind me I forgot to look for anyone in front of me. I take full responsibility for the questions and nightmares that those poor kids must have had and the fact that they'll never again eat pizza from Pizza Hut.

I now steer clear of rides that spin around in a continuous circle but lately I've noticed riding in the car, riding the train and sometimes even just looking out a window I sometimes feel nauseous and then start faintly to smell a Pizza Hut personal pan pizza with peperoni and olives.