I have learned that sun hates me. Okay, I already knew that. Sun bounces off my skin and lands on the next closest object: usually Rob or my kids, who all have fantastic tans while I have perpetually shockingly white skin.
But even though the sun manages to not deepen my skin tone, it still manages to drain the life out of me. I spend a few hours outside and come home with a headache and the need to nap. And no tan. (Are you sensing the bitterness of this non-tanning thing?)
What I have really learned, though, is that the combination of too much sun and not enough sleep makes me feel pregnant. This freaks me out every time, because I'm surgically sterile, thank you very much. Being pregnant would be grounds to sue my OB-GYN. Or at least make him pay all the medical bills associated with such a pregnancy.
But there I find myself:
* In the grocery store, ready to vomit because of the smells coming from the seafood aisles.
* Experiencing extreme sensitivity to all dairy smells: I almost tossed some perfectly good yogurt because it smelled bad to me.
* Nearing puke stage right before bedtime.
* Not able to eat much without feeling extremely unstable in the stomach.
Apparently feeling pregnant = feeling like puking.
So there you have it. That's what I'm figuring out this summer.
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