It all started on Thursday night. I wanted to celebrate St. Patty's Day with a few beers after work. Especially because the weather here was so gorgeous. So I sat outside and watched the boyz play ball with Hubby and drank my beer. But that first beer just didn't seem to settle well. I was done drinking.
For dinner that night, I could only stomach a scoopful of rice. And then a fudgesicle later on.
Friday morning, I met with Trainer Sarah, who wasn't all that thrilled to hear that I had barely eaten dinner the night before and made me promise to go straight home and eat breakfast.
But I couldn't. Something was *off* (understatement of the year, right there). I felt queasy and was having random stomach pains. But forge on, I did.
At work on Friday, I tried a yogurt just before lunch. Fine.
And then I attempted a half sandwich at about 2pm.
It all went downhill from there. The stomach pains got worse. And then the fury was unleashed. (Thank God my work had a plethora of bathrooms
Once home, I was pretty much back and forth from the bed to the toilet for the next 11 hours (4pm to 3am). On top of that, I started running a fever that hovered around 101. Lemme just be the first to say, I was one hawt mess.
And for the record? Pepto is NO MATCH for the stomach bug. Not even close.
Yet Saturday dawned anew. I was weak, yet determined.
So I spent the entire morning cleaning. Not daring to eat a morsel. A nice thin film of sweat covering my weakened body.
When Hubby got home from baseball, he reminded me that I had a decision to make, for we had Dropkick Murphys concert tickets for that night. Tickets I had gotten for him for Christmas.
I decided that I would rally and go. Mind over matter, right??
So I got myself all prettied up and we headed to dinner and the show with our friends.
(By the way? I'm totally doing a separate post on How You Know You're Too Old For Concerts. I have LOTS to say about the attire and behavior of KIDS THESE DAYS *shaking my cane in the air*)
Anyway, the show was good! (What I saw of it.) (Thankfully the music was piped into the bathroom.)
I should TOTALLY be an event photographer.
After the show, which was wayyyy past my bedtime anyway (again, Too Old For Concerts), we got stuck in the parking garage for about a half hour. FML. I started to panic a little bit at this point, wondering what in the heck I would do if, you know...I accidentally "relaxed".
But then once we were on the road, it was just a matter of focusing on getting us home.
Which I did. Sorta. I literally had to leave the car running in the driveway to hop out and race inside while crying and Lamaze-breathing. Sweet.
Saturday was another loooooong night.
And then on Sunday, I was SCARED to eat. No way in hell did I want those pains to come back.
I had 2 bottles of water and half a Powerade that day.
So yesterday, needless to say, I was home from work. Trying to work up the nerve to eat.
I had relative success with a mini bagel, a half a sandwich, and plain pasta. Not without feeling queasy, but let's just say everything stayed "down" and "in".
Can I just say, I haven't felt that bad probably since I had double mastitis with Baby???
And for all the times I breezily joked ha ha ha about how "it would be nice to just catch a stomach bug or something" to "jumpstart my weight loss"? Well, I TAKE IT BACK.
(Okay, well, sorta. The weight loss does feel kinda fastastic.)
Fingers crossed this isn't me today.