I've missed three mornings in a row of FXB and feel really bummed about the whole thing. In all fairness to myself, I haven't kept down any solid foods since around noon on Monday and I've lost around 7 pounds due to some pretty fantastic projectile pyrotechnics. My husband, God bless him, keeps telling me how HOT I look. Yeah, I'm sure most people might look hot after three days of not eating anything (check out most catwalks in NY :), but he means well - he knows I feel like crap and probably look like it too.
I'm back in the office for the first time this week armed with the following (per my sister Meghan's instructions): 3 bottles of Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade, applesauce (in case I'm feeling perky enough to eat anything later), and a big box of saltine crackers. Ugh.
Please send a shout out for me to the Big Guy that I will feel good enough to workout tomorrow morning. Also, I'm actively praying that I don't get my little lady Isla sick too. OMG she is SO beautiful. She's getting to that age where when she wakes up in the middle of the night, she's not necessarily hungry she just wants me to rock and sing her back to sleep. She did that twice last night and it was HEAVEN. I cannot overstate how much I am in love with my own daughter.
Oh, in news from the sick couch: I read an amazing book yesterday called We Need To Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. Apparently it has also been made into a movie staring Tilda Swinton (I would have known that and probably already seen the movie when I lived in Chicago, but South Dakota rarely shows anything but the more mainstream flicks). Some words to sum the book up? Hmmm. DARK. DARKER. UNCOMFORTABLE maybe? BRILLIANT. It was a page turner and I read it in a day - it's around 427 pages but I'm somewhat of a fast reader (according to my husband).
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