Or, why I will never ever ever overeat again. Ever. Sorta.

It started last Sunday, when a friend invited me to some event at the East Coast with the promise of free food and drinks and who am I to say no to that?

The food was amazing, and the drinks were free-flowing, and I could only wish I didn't have work the next day. Which sort of came true, because Monday morning I woke up with the craziest heartburn ever. I've had those before, but never this intense, so I got scared a little (okay, a lot) and decided to see the doctor.

It's always a bit disconcerting walking into the clinic and being greeted by premature ejaculation posters, but other than that I do like the doctors here. They're very pleasant to talk to and they appear concerned, in contrast with the dreary, arrogant doctors I've visited before. It was quite a bit of a wait so to kill time I browsed through the leaflets and brochures and stuff and lookie what I found:

It's decided. I am pro-RH bill. Meet ella, the morning-after pill. Too funny. 

Anyway. So after ten years I finally got to see the doctor. After listening to the symptoms his first question was:

Had a heavy meal yesterday? A buffet?
Haysh. But the good news is, it's just acid reflux and it went away right after I took the meds. Apparently everything I stuffed myself with the day before is an acid reflux trigger - sangria, champagne, pork belly, lamb chops, citrus fruits, lime juice, and that supremely divine chocolate cake. So long story short, that is never ever happening again. Although they did give me enough meds to cover a couple more overeating episodes tee hee. But seriously, summer's coming. Need to ease up on the carbs; even my tummy thinks so. 

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