Today was my second day at work for the week. Unlike next week, this one is normal length, and unfortunately I didn’t use up any of my many flexi-days to get time off work.
No, I was sick. Fully sick, you might say.
I had some sort of fever, involving aching limbs, a sore throat, difficulty in moving and, most importantly, sweating. The sweating was extraordinary really. I lay down in bed for a couple of hours, dozing, and I’d have sweat stains on my clothes. If I moved the sweating was even worse, not requiring much exertion at all to get going.
It was at its worst at 4am on Wednesday. I woke up and I was literally squelching in bed. I’ve never sweated so much! I was too weak and tired to move much from there, so I found the driest part of the bed (only partially above the high water mark) and made the best of it, while resigning myself to a second day at home, too crook to work.
Obviously I didn’t eat much in those two days, and drank a lot of water (which didn’t stay in my body for long), so, despite not going to the gym in the last week, and only getting moderate exercise, I actually did pretty well.
I even had middle-aged women at work perving on me and congratulating me on losing weight.
But it’s a false economy. Like the all-fruit-juice diet Grant Thomas took when he was coaching the Saints. Or Grant Thomas himself coaching the Saints. It can’t last. The fluid I lost has to come back on doesn’t it?
Anyways, I’m down again this week, to 92kg, but it won’t stay that low for long.
Unless I can manage to get gastro…