A traumatizing life experience at the fair

Have I ever mentioned how much I love the county fair? There's just something to be said about an endless supply of food drenched in fat and then deep fried to perfection that gets my arteries pumping. Funnel cakes, deep fat-fried Twinkies, donut holes, caramel apples--you name it I've probably consumed more than what is physically appropriate for a girl of my age. I guess I make up for not being able to ride "the rides" by feeding my gourd to the brim. 

I still remember the first time I got sick at the fair. When I was six-years-old I remember riding the Gravitron for the first time. The whole time I cried, not out of fear, but rather because I knew I was going to throw up. As soon as I stumbled out of the man made death trap everything came up, then I proceeded to lay down on the grass right in front of the line without a care in the world that other fair-goers were stumbling over my limp, green, cold sweat-covered body. It was 1991, obviously, people weren't too concerned about a child laying lifeless on the ground at the fair (can you imagine what that would be like today)? HA! So much for traumatizing childhood experiences... 

Needless to say I still didn't learn my lesson, for years I kept going on rides with the same results: ride/puke ride/puke--same story/different year. And guess what, I'm sure I would still be doing it now if it weren't for the kids and someone having to be a parent. Didn't you know John's twelve-year-old self makes an appearance whenever we're near a theme park or fair, which usually leads to me getting the short straw in the long run. And I guess that's okay because the thought of even stepping on the Ferris Wheel makes me nauseous so you can only imagine what I would be like on the Zipper? My thoughts exactly. 

But we did it, another fair under our belts, another gargantuan turkey leg consumed, and a enough mullet-wearing clad men to last us a year! Now onto losing the eleven pounds I gained in a matter of 5 hours...oy vey.