The Quickest Way I've Ever Lost Five Pounds (Not Recommended)

Wednesday night, my fiance and I made pizza for dinner.

Midday Thursday, we both started feeling sick.

I'm not saying the two things are connected, but it's going to be awhile before I eat pizza again. Once you feel last night's dinner come out of your nose, you know it's pretty much over.

The short version (and believe me, you do not want the long version of this story) is, we have spent the past two days inside, lying on the couch, alternately watching bad TV and running for the bathroom. (Thank God we have two).

It was sort of a relationship growth exercise; we have never been sick at the same time before, and we're both big babies when we're sick, but this time, there wasn't one clear patient and one clear caretaker. Whenever one of us needed something, it was pretty much up to whoever was able to stand up at that moment to get it. And even that got tricky, because after 16 hours lying on the couch and the futon, we were both suffering from sore backs.

Yesterday, thinking it might help me to get out into civilization for awhile, I showered, put on some clean sweats and went out to get more supplies -- ginger ale, saltines and Pepto Bismol. I'm sure I looked miserable, too, so there was no doubt as to what I'd been through in recent hours.

As I was paying, I noticed a pin on the cashier's smock -- it was shaped like a dog bone and said "I love my Soft-coated Wheaten Terrier." My mom has two Wheatens and adores them (I could probably start a whole blog about her dogs -- but I won't, because I am bitter that she loves them more than she loves me. She says it's because they never ask her for money, but come on, I never poop in the yard and ask her to clean it up; who's giving her a better deal here? And I'm pretty sure she wouldn't look favorably on me pooping in the yard, but when her dogs do it, they get cheese). I struck up a brief conversation with the lady about her dogs, and she sent me off with a compassionate "take care, honey." It was kind of like the universe sent me a sympathetic Mom-type person to make me feel better in my time of need.

Today, the fiance and I are feeling almost human again. I was even able to get dressed in real clothes. I don't look so hot though, because since Thursday morning, I have lost 5 1/2 pounds, which is enough to loosen my pants to the point where I don't have to unbutton them to take them off. Under other circumstances, I'd be celebrating; even now, I want to go bathing suit shopping while it lasts.

I did run a few errands; I finalized the wedding flowers (one less thing to worry about later, plus if they end up looking bad I can just tell people that I was sick with dysentery when I chose them) and went to the grocery store, where the sight and smell of food did not make me want to vomit, so I think that's a good sign.

I was on my way to the toilet paper aisle (we've used quite a bit this weekend) and noticed a woman handing out free samples. I wasn't really in a try-something-new mood anyway, but I had to laugh when I saw what her samples were -- All Bran. No, thank you. Certainly don't need that today.

I'm not sure if sharing a weekend of food poisoning brought my fiance and I closer together or not, but I hope it did, because that 5 1/2 pound loss is so not worth how I lost it. Well, unless my thighs look smaller. I'll get back to you on that.