Woman Cannot Live on Jello Alone

About three years ago, I came down with a case of strep throat so severe that I missed a week of work and dropped ten pounds. When I came back to work, my jeans finally fit again (it had been a 'OMG! Sonic has that again?' type of summer and I had packed on much more than 10 pounds) and everyone sort of did a double take and asked, "Did you lose weight?" Why, yes, I did. I joked around that I was going to figure out a way to bottle the stuff and sell it on Ebay.

And, once again, the dreaded stuff has hit. And while I may not bottle it and sell it . . . maybe I can just put an ad on Craigslist to breathe on anyone interested in dropping weight FAST before the holidays?

I started feeling just icky late Thursday night. I had noticed a bit of a sore throat earlier in the evening, but late that night it just hit me. I told Hubs I was really, really tired and by the time I laid down I was jittery and achy. Fun stuff. I spent all of Friday wishing for death and debating on whether or not to call the doctor.

I hate doctors. I decided against it.

Felt better Saturday and Sunday and then, last night, my fever spiked once again. *Sigh* So to the doct-ah doct-ah Mr. MD today.

Strep throat.

*Pokes fork in eye*

On the plus, it's almost gone and I have an antibiotic that'll take out the little bit that's left. On the minus, I'm beating myself up for NOT going in sooner and praying fervently that neither of my boys get it.

I weighed in Thursday morning at 145.8 pounds (I like to keep my weight at 144.4 and this was the third or fourth consecutive day of the 145.8 weigh-in. I was getting pissed). This morning. 141.4. Ye-owch! That's nearly four and a half pounds in just four days! Sheesh. That's what tends to happen when you eat nothing but Jello.

And, hello! Not that I've wanted to eat anything but Jello. If I have no appetite, then you KNOW I'm sick. Especially this time of year with all the goodies to taunt me.

I actually weighed in on the doctor's scale at an even 142. Fully clothed. Heavily fully clothed (Hi, Mother Nature? This is Dallas. Take that 28 degrees shit somewhere else. Mmkay? Thanks). In tennis shoes. I'd like to think that if I'd been perched over his scale butt naked at 7:00 this morning, I'd have seen something in the 130's peeking back at me. Who knows.

I keep telling myself that 144 is my magic number. It is, right? Right.

Strep throat has just served to give me a cushion for that orgy of Christmas goodies next week. I'll be thankful for all this when I step on the scale next Friday . . .