“I totally have a migraine,” she flips her shiny hair over her shoulder and takes a sip of coffee.
“Those are the worst,” her friend says loudly and somewhat sympathetically.
The girl with the “migraine” looks up from her iPhone long enough to say, “They so are. Do you have an Advil?”
An anvil? Sure. I happen to have one here I can drop on your head to give you an idea of what it’s like to actually have a migraine.
When did this term become synonymous with a bad headache? Or a Frapuccino-sipping, hair-flipping mild one?
Three days ago, my head felt like a coconut being split open.
I felt like one of the extras in a B-rated horror movie, shrieking for a moment and having the camera linger on me long enough to show the audience I was the latest victim of an ax-wielding psycho star.
Actually, I might have welcomed having my head split open at the time. The pressure was…indescribable. I thought my brain might actually be swelling and pressing against my skull. Gross, right? I know. Then there’s the nausea and vomiting that goes along with the blinding pain, the vision problems, and the inability to move for fear of crumpling to the floor in agony. Not to mention (but I will) that if someone drops a spoon on the other side of the house, they may as well have hit you over the head with a frying pan. Oh, and you have to avoid sunlight like a vampire. Because. Pain.
You can’t read, write, eat, think… So, basically, you whimper (very quietly) and wish the time away. At least, that’s what I do.
This is how I spent my day—curled up in a ball under the covers with my hands desperately trying to cover my ears and my eyes at the same time. That didn’t work out well.
A migraine is a medical condition.
Seriously. It has symptoms and everything.
People, please, for the love of all that is good and covered in chocolate, stop. If you’re up and about, swishing your sweet coffee concoction, examining your manicure, pouting over your split ends, and texting, please don’t complain about your “migraine”.
It makes people who actually suffer from migraines feel miffed.
Okay, angry.
Okay, maybe it only makes me angry but this is my blog so…
I may be overreacting a tad here but, having just been through a 2-day adventure in agony (again), this was a fun little rant. And kind of overdue… Just saying. Do you suffer from migraines? How do you cope? Hopefully better than I do.
Lemon Shark 