Weighing In

So is it "starve a fever, feed a cold" or "feed a fever, starve a cold?" Just to be safe, I have been following the "feed a fever, feed a cold" philosophy since I came down with this viral circus - sore throat! Drainage! Coughing! Fever! And mucus, mucus, mucus! You would think that feeling so rotten, I wouldn't be interested in eating.

You would be wrong.

Actually, it's not that I was eating all the time, just that I was eating the same garbage I was feeding the kids. If you could nuke it or make a sandwich out of it, we were there. A fair bit of fast food, too. And while Wendy's makes a mean salad, I'm pretty sure the Frosty on the side isn't helping matters (though it did feel good on my scratchy throat).

I avoided the scale altogether last week. Bad Weight Watchers member, no cookie for you! I reluctantly dragged myself onto it this morning. Conditions were only fair, but I got on anyway. The news wasn't as bad as I had feared. I am up .4 pounds. Considering all the crap I have stuffed in my maw in the last two weeks, it is a miracle that I didn't gain more. Hell, I probably have .4 pounds of junk in my lungs. Once I hack it all up I'll be on the right track again. (Can you get activity points for coughing? How about nose blowing? Jeez, I'm ready to be well again!)

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