Over the Top

For the past couple of days, I've been recovering from a stomach bug that I had on Thursday. I am not exaggerating when I say that it has not been since H was an infant that I've had a stomach flu, and it was a bit of a shock.

It was fated to happen as I have a newborn and rambunctious toddler to deal with at the same time. I am happy to say, however, that I can take back everything I've said about H's adjustment recently because he was an angel. I laid on the couch under a blanket...which if you know my Sweaty Betty self, that is cause for concern in itself, and H entertained himself until J got home in the mid-afternoon.

The next morning, after showering off my fever-breaking sweat, I decided to step on the scale to see if my lack of caloric intake had any positive pay-offs. As I had consumed only hot tea and ginger ale the day before (even the b.r.a.t. diet made me queasy on sight), it was not surprising that I'd lost a little weight. From an admittedly unhealthy standpoint, I can disclose that I was more than a little excited to see that I'd lost four pounds...even with a wet towel on my head. Hey, when you're trying to lose about 80 pounds of pre and post-baby weight, you'll take it how you can get it.

Fast forward to today, I still hadn't regained my appetite, and it was only mid-way through the day that I realized what the new weirdness in my stomach was...it was hunger pains. I don't mean when your tummy gets a little grumbly, but genuine pain...hmmm I guess there's a reason I have so much weight to lose, I'd never experienced these before that I can recall.

If you're wondering about the arm-wrestling connection...just you wait...

Well, after eating a couple small, easy meals; a slice of cheese here, some grapes there, I felt ready to make a real dinner for the fam tonight. As I was broiling the pork chops, I glanced over the counter to see on the TV in the living room (yes, I know, small apartment) the still image of a dvd's menu screen, along with the words Over the Top. I looked at J incredulously. I knew that this was not just a Netflix pick, as I'd just put our three allotted envelopes in the mail that morning.


That means that my husband bought this horribly cheesy Stallone movie about an arm wrestler/truck driver fighting to get custody of his son. Okay, you may think I'm just as bad for knowing what the movie was about without having to consult J, but it's only because I was subjected to it in 7th grade at my friend's house because her dad was watching it and she was a fan as well; it burned its way into my impressionable mind.


As I began to tease J, he rolled his eyes and said a la Napoleon Dynamite 'You just don't understand or appreciate the arm-wrestling trucker population. You shouldn't be so close-minded to segments of our culture.' Uhhh sure, that's exactly what it is.

Wow, and this is from the man who was going to walk out on the season finale of The Bachelorette? Ugh, maybe I am starting to feel nauseated again after all!