Just as I was starting to get into a groove with exercising and eating healthy, I started to feel really tired. Like, BEAT tired. I noticed several people at the office were coming down with something and 5-7 people out sick at a time. I doubled up on my vitamins and water intake because it was a solid 16 months since I was last sick with anything other than a runny nose.


That tiredness was followed by a sore throat. A sore throat that wanted nothing but bread-like things to feel better. Does that make sense? It wasn’t the need for bread, but the need for texture. I hopped into the local bakery near the office for a post work dessert date with my love. He had just started his new job and we were celebrating his first week of work. I ordered a slab of carrot cake. This is not like me, especially since I have been so committed to not cheating.


I went home and scraped off all the frosting (WHAT?) and went to town on the cake. The following day I felt a little worse but chalked it up to allergies since I could still taste things. I made a huge loaf of Irish soda bread and took it to work. That soda bread was calling my name all day and night.


I had not one, not two, but THREE slabs of soda bread with a thick layer of butter that evening.

At the office, everyone went wild for the soda bread. I made it with raisins. But as my throat continued to ache, my craving for the dry bread slathered in cold butter grew. And by the end of the day, I had eaten two more slices of bread and had a boozy St. Paddy’s day cupcake in my in my bag for later that evening…. when all hell broke loose.


I will spare you the details but I was completely destroyed when two days later I was being diagnosed with Bronchitis at the ENT’s office. My healthy streak was over and I was taking a hefty dose of antibiotics and steroids.


And if that wasn’t enough, My germy ass got Brent sick during his 2nd week of work. We were both miserable with fevers, achy bodies, dry heaving coughs and sore throats. His boss along with his colleagues begged him to stay home.

We consumed tons of soup.


And while he bounced back quickly, it took me about a week to feel like a human being again.


I am feeling much better now and happy to report that I have not had any irish soda bread or boozy cupcakes since… the pizza I just ate is unrelated.