I don't feeeeeeeeeel gooooooooooooood.
I have now reached the Whiny stage of illness, soon to be followed by the Bitchy stage, the Crying stage, and the stage where I straight-up die.
I haven't eaten in three days, and all I can think about is a giant steak chimichanga doused in cheese sauce. And a big ol' bowl of tortilla chips with cheese dip.
My dad went to the doctor today and evidently the doctor has said that dairy products are out of the question. And now I am drooling for a huge glass of ice cold frothy milk.
Last night, as I was moaning on the sofa, I briefly thought about using a knitting needle (size 1) to poke my tummy, sort of like I'd pop a balloon. Probably that would be pretty unsanitary, though.
Well. And painful.