My body often reminds me that I am a weak specimen. If we still lived in a purely Darwinist world, not protected by the buffer of civilization, I would be long gone by now. I am a creature of comfortable physical habit. And anytime I diverge from the routine, I get a migraine.
I get a migraine when it’s too cold. I also get a migraine when it’s too hot. Or too wet or too dry. I can understand the hangover headaches I get from too much alcohol–I feel like I’ve earned those–but I also get headaches when I’ve had too much caffeine or not enough caffeine. Headaches from waking up too early or staying up too late, too much work and too much stress. The only way for me not to get a migraine would be just to stay in bed all day. But even then, I might fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon, which always gives me a migraine.
Sometimes I think I should lead a more adventurous life. But then I picture myself crawling across the ice in Alaska or hanging from a camel in the Sahara, clutching my head and throwing up. Vomiting in an exotic locale is still vomiting, and there wouldn’t be a convenient toilet nearby.
At times I think my body is fighting me. It is as if it knows that I’ve always lived inside my head, and have only a tenuous connection to the physical form I reside in. My body can tell I feel uncomfortable in it, and it punishes me for that discomfort. And I definitely deserve the punishment.