Yesterday I was DESTROYED by a stomach bug.  I’ve always joked that I’m just a round of food poisoning away from my goal weight and when the tummy grumblings started, I can’t lie, I was kind of thinking about that.  Six hours and about 47 trips to the bathroom later, all I was thinking about was a chemically induced coma to end the pain.  It reminded me of how I was so jealous of my little brother when he was sick this one time and got to drink soda and eat saltines, both of which seemed like real treats to me.  Every night I would pray to get sick (and also to not be left on a deserted island with a group of boys who killed me with spears…I was really frightened of Lord of the Flies, but that’s a different story) and when I finally did get sick, I couldn’t believe how awful it was.  I remember asking if I could trade the Coke and crackers back and stop feeling like this.  God totally called no trade backs though and I was stuck.

Anyway, after weighing myself this morning, I’ve realized that I’ve been wrong all these years.  I’m actually more like two rounds of food poisoning away from my goal weight.  Gah!