The Show Must Go On. Twice.

Late Friday night I canceled a movie date, because I felt queasy. Just after midnight, the misery began. Repeated mass exodus of all nutrients out of my body occurred approximately every 45 minutes. By 7:00 AM Saturday I was convinced I was dying, and had almost convinced Chad of my imminent demise. Spoiler Alert: I survived, but still don't have much of an appetite. By 9:00 AM, I drank a Diet Coke, and kept it down/in.

During the violent bouts of dry-heaving, I burst little blood vessels all over my face, and had smatterings of blood-red freckles all over my face. I did not feel pretty - not at all. I could barely stand long enough in the shower to wash my hair without feeling faint and weak. I had to rest for a few moments before mustering the energy to blow-dry my hair.

Then I got to go to Dave & Buster's and perform TWO three-act dinner mystery shows back-to-back for 270 Chi-Omega sisters and their parents. Four hours of delivering lines at the top of my lungs, in constant motion in five-inch heels, wearing a floor-length, jewel-encrusted evening gown that probably weighs in at five pounds. It's called devotion to the craft. (That, and having an understudy who no one likes anymore.)

That which doesn't kill me can only make me feel stronger... or leave me exhausted for five days trying to recover. I'm still so tired.

No, I don't know where I got it if it was food poisoning. If it was a stomach bug, then Chad has an amazing immune system, because he hasn't gotten it. No, I'm POSITIVE that I'm not pregnant.