Retch, Regret, Repeat: The Great Disaster of 2026

So, I heard there’s a new tiktok trend where we confess to embarrassing stuff we did? (There is no trend, just bear with my story and I.)

Last week, I was a little under the weather (P.S: I survived to tell the tale), thanks to my perfectly rebellious self. My mom brought a new brand of noodles last time she went grocery shopping – a bolt from the blue – I know. Anyway, a few days later, she warned me not to inhale them, claiming they’re expired. I, of course thought she was lying and just said that so I could ‘be healthier’ or whatever. Spoiler: she wasn’t lying. I got sick; retching and farting until she got home. 

She was ballistic. I mean, full-on fire-breathing mom mode. When she started inquiring about how I ended up in this sorry state, I kept beating around the bush, not wanting to confess that I willingly ate expired food. “Will you just cut to the chase?” she snapped, irritated. Alas, I revealed my act of brilliance,  feeling equal parts guilty and proud of my so-called “brilliance.” She just stared at me, shook her head, and said, “Are you bananas?” And honestly… fair enough. I probably was. At that point, I was basically a walking, talking example of what not to do. Kids, I hope you’re learning some real-big-moral-spiritual-awakening lesson!

Naturally, the doctor delivered the verdict with the calm disappointment of someone who has seen things. Food poisoning. Shocking, truly. He gave me the look adults reserve for children who have made Very Preventable Choices™ and then launched into a lecture about expiry dates, bacteria, and how noodles are not, in fact, immortal. My mother nodded along while I lay there, dehydrated, nauseous, and spiritually humbled.

Recovery was slow and dramatic, because if you’re going to suffer, you might as well do it theatrically. For the next few days, my stomach reacted to everything like it was a personal attack. Water? Suspicious. Bread? Offensive. My mom hovered 24/7, reminding me every few hours that this is why we listen. I considered apologizing, but honestly? My physical state was apology enough.

The noodle ban was the final blow. Two whole weeks without them. Not that I was craving noodles anymore… just the word made my stomach twist—but the principle of it hurt. It was less a punishment and more a monument to my poor life choices. A reminder that actions, especially stupid ones, have consequences.

So what did I learn from this experience? Several things, actually. One: mothers are almost never lying when it comes to food safety. Two: “It smells fine” is not a valid scientific test. And three: curiosity did not kill the cat, expired noodles did. (Or at least they tried, and also, I am also not a cat. Okay, why did I even put this idiom here?)

Anyway, after my heroic battle with food poisoning, a stern lecture from a doctor, and two weeks of noodle exile, I’ve reached a conclusion: never underestimate the power of expired carbs. My stomach may forgive me someday, but my pride? Never. And if you see me eyeing suspiciously cheap noodles in the future… Just know, I’m plotting revenge. Or maybe just staying very far away. Conclusively, safe to say my brilliant act of maturity earned me a visit to the doctor, and noodle prohibition!