hypocrisy: southern baptist style


She vomited once, twice and the third time she was basically dry heaving. Damn, of all the times to be sick.

“Honey,” a voice called from the other side of the stall, “do you need a wet paper towel or something?”

“No, I’m fine, but thanks.” Her face burned hot with embarrassment but a chill coursed through her body as she felt another wave of nausea wash over her. The woman’s voice sounded familiar. She looked through a crack in the door – It was Ms. Kathryn from her church. What would she think? Wait, what was she doing here?

She started to laugh about the whole situation when her gut heaved out another spill of pink vomit. She flushed it away and actually felt better for the first time in twenty minutes. Once Ms. Kathryn was gone she slipped out of the stall to wash her face and hands. She couldn’t believe she let herself get this way. It had been 15 years since she’d had a glass of wine, and tonight she had three. Her closest friends were in the next room. Her favorite band was on stage. Dancing, drinking, vomiting and seeing the women’s Sunday School teacher at a bar – it was a good night to turn 40.

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