The Glass of Water

There is a glass of water currently sitting on my kitchen counter.

It has been sitting there for three days.

I am thirsty.

Actually, I am dehydrated.

I know this because I keep putting Chapstick on my lips, hoping to impart some moisture to them.

I know the glass of water is there.

I pass by it 4 times a day to make my child's food.

Yet, I do not drink from it.

I am in need of water...water is in front of me...but I do not drink.

If that doesn't speak volumes about my attitude towards taking care of myself, I don't know what does.

How to lose weight when you are sick

You don't.  You don't worry about anything but getting well.  So you eat soft foods, and if those foods happen to be little pots of cheesecake, then so be it.  You're sick, I'm certainly not going to yell at you.  Just get better, and then get back to work.

I'm down 2 kilo, and considering the last week was HELL (baby had/has an awful ear infection, and I was battling 102F fever all yesterday), not too shabby.

This week will be spent getting back to 100%, and then hopefully the weather will play nice and I can push baby in the pram a few miles a day.

It's a pain you forget...

When I was pregnant, people used to always assure me that women have some magical hormone that helps them forget about the pain of pregnancy and childbirth (otherwise the human race would have died out years ago!).  Well, if anyone knows me well they know I still deal with the birth trauma every day of my life, so forgetting it isn't going to happen anytime soon, but the concept of "It's the kind of pain you forget" does weirdly apply to my food choices.

I know that if I eat cheap crappy pizza, I will be sick for the rest of the night.
I know that if I drink sweety drinks with fake sugar, I will be sick as well.
I know that if I even taste test Burger King, I am good and well screwed gastro-wise.

And yet, I forget EVERY SINGLE TIME as I reach for my credit card when ordering pizza after a late night of baby wrangling.  Every.  Single.  Time!  Is there some fat based hormone that makes my body forget that 2 hours after eating a box of Cornettos, I'm going to be doing awful things to my own bathroom?   Even now, writing about the Cornettos, I want them.  They are going to make me sick as a dog, but I am salivating thinking about them!  One would have thought that evolution would have shoved this concept out of my head - even rats learn which food can hold poison and stay away.  I am officially dumber than a rat.