I've had what one would call a sh*tty week. And by that, I mean literally. I've had the absolute worst case of the flu that I've ever had in my life. In the last 4, almost 5, days I've eaten 2 bananas, 2 pieces of toast, and just now I braved a half of a Togo's sandwich. I'm praying that wasn't a tragic mistake. You see dear reader, I've spent the last 4, almost 5, days living in the bathroom. And again, by living, I mean literally. I mean curled up in the fetal position sleeping on the floor in my bathroom. It is quite humbling to realize that just a few hours before the commencement of taking to the fetal position I was out with the ladies, completely dressed casually, but still thinking "Hey, I look pretty darn cute for a 30 year old mom. Yeah, I'm not too bad. Infact, I'm dayum right sexy." Hmm, not so sexy with mud butt and puked stained hair. That will deflate an ego real fast. I am however 5 lbs lighter. I went all out today. I showered, and *gasp* got dressed in REAL CLOTHES. Why is it that when we, as women, lose weight the first place it comes off is our boobs? It really isn't fair at all. Thank you very much flu fairy, but I like my boobs just fine. You can be a dear take a little off the thighs, they're all yours.
So here I sit, with my Togo's wrapper strewn about, my tummy starting to churn, wearing my slightly looser fitting 7's and my I *heart* Frat Boys tshirt blogging. Yep, that's right. I'm dayum sexy....well, sort of.