Throwing your back out from puking all weekend.
And even worse than that?
Further having to explain that no, of course you didn't actually hurt your back from bending over the toilet, but you did hurt it a few days earlier golfing, and the rapid, spas-y jerking of your body to the bathroom floor just exacerbated your golf injury so that after you're done seeing what a burrito looks like after it's been marinating in white wine for a few hours, you try to get up and realize you can't because suddenly you're lower back is seizing up like you just picked up a house and forgot to lift with your knees.
And then you have to walk around all day with an ice pack or a heating pad strapped to your lower back with this look on your face:
That look by the way is a) how I get all the boys, and b) a mix of fear and pain. I need the ice so that I don't crumple into a ball on the floor, but the strap that's holding it on is digging into my stomach, and totally not helping with the waves of nausea. I can't give up the ice but I don't want to puke anymore. It's a vicious cycle people! Vicious.
Here's a front picture, with notes so that you know exactly what's going on here (you can click to enlarge)(You're welcome). And no, I don't usually look like this. Usually I look better. Less just-got-out-of-homeless-ness-but-still-am-not-sure-of-the-ways-of-the-masses-so-I-wear-half-boys-clothes-and-half-womens-to-the-mall, and a little more . . . showered.
(That's a lie, I usually look like this. But I usually FEEL better so that's a huge difference. It's all about your attitude, you know? Like sure, nine times out of ten I'll be in this exact outfit for four days straight, but I rock the shit out of it. I wear those pjs like I'm on a runway dang it. Just ask the guys at 7 - 11. They know. They see it every day.)