Last Wednesday night I was folding laundry in preparation for Triple S's return home. Because I certainly don't wait until the last minute to make it look like I keep a perfect house the whole time he is gone because obviously, that is ridiculous.
So as I was standing there folding my husband's 300 t-shirts when I suddenly started feeling like the floor of a taxi cab. Normally I push through. It's kind of my thing.
It's my one defining trait.
I suck it up.
I have so many foolish stories about how I pushed through.
Did you know I didn't miss a single day of work when I had a metal plate put in my wrist?
Did you know I waxed my floor while I was unknowingly bleeding internally?
I have a hundred of these stories. All part of the "legend" that is me.
I can be stubborn and foolishly pig-headed when it comes to resting or taking it easy.
Of course, quitting the laundry doesn't count so I went to bed. Assuming that when I woke up the next day I would be feeling better.
That didn't happen of course. As I struggled with getting the kids ready I started to suspect I might have a small problem. It only got worse at airport pick up when I actually got out of the car and let Scott drive home. It was then that I promptly climbed back into bed.
That was five days ago.
I missed deadlift day, my BJJ belt promotion, a girls night out, a FREAKING competition, dinner with my awesome Lyft friends, boxing training, both my jobs, open workout 18.1 ARG. I'm getting annoyed typing this list.
With every missed event I argued in my head till the last minute that I could still make it. That I was just being a baby, that if I could just get moving I would be fine.
That didn't happen.
Nothing happened but a lot of sleeping and mass consumption of cold medicine.
So go screw FLU! How dare you show me that I'm human?
Sorry in advance to everyone who is going to have to put up with me in the coming weeks as I try and prove my invincibility to myself again. I feel a lot of bad decisions coming up.
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