The worst weight loss plan ever

Last weekend this blog went dark because I was all in on celebrating the Jillfish's big birthday and I couldn't manage to divest any energy away from the goal of partying down. And then she got the stomach flu and we all were sad for her. Then Megan got sick and I was sad for her. And then Jayden puked on my feet and I felt TERRIBLE for him, because he's a wee little thing. And then Phil got the flu and I was sad for him. And then I got it... 

 I felt so bad that I didn't read, turn on a TV, or do anything but lay on my bathroom floor or stare at the wall for 48 hours. 

I am quite positive that I begged for death several times.

I've consumed 6 crackers and a bottle of orange gatorade since Monday. 

Today, my Slack status at work contains the words vaguely human. I posted that about 30 minutes ago and I'm starting to regret my choice of words. I definitely feel sub-human. My stomach is turning at the thought of my much awaited kitchen island granite being installed today because it's an instrument of food preparation and the mere suggestion (the mere typing of the word) food is sending my stomach into fits of gurgles. 

It's hard to maintain the proper level of excitement at my kitchen being done-ish when the mere thought of being in that room is enough to turn me green. <sigh>

When I finally deign to put on anything but yoga pants, they better be loose. That's all I have to say.