I'm so tired of being sick. So tired that I should be taking a nap right now instead of typing. Or two naps. It's not getting worse but it's not getting better either. I'm stuck in the hellish middle with only my martyrdom for company. I'm not even losing any weight from my tea and ice cream diet which is frankly shocking! The virus must weigh 6 pounds. Atleast. There's no way that I sneezed myself up to 176 snot forsaken pounds. Moaning burns calories, fact, so there can be no other explanation.
I keep thinking I should be doing a year in review but traditionally, or the one time, I do that at the end of January for my fat-i-versary. Which leaves me with nothing. Actually, not nothing. Feeling like this gives me a deep and sobering appreciation for the good health I had in 2007. I stopped taking care of my body during a very stressful time of year and I got wallopped. The rest of the year I ate well and exercised well and felt extremely well. I need to be more appreciative of how good my body feels every day, you know, after I get better.
I know Matt is more appreciative of me already, having to do everything himself and there being err...no food in the house. He'd never whine about having to cook his own dinner but I know he'll be happier when the old cooking/baking regime returns. It's nice to know your contributions are noticed and missed.
So overall I'm starting the year feeling appreciated, fat and more ready to exercise again than I'd ever have thought. It's not so bad. I could be mourning a new perm or something.