Every year, without fail, I get sick. No, not with the common cold, but with some ridiculous monster version of a respiratory condition. Fun! [insert sarcasm here]. Though I know this about myself, when I started to develop a slight cough two weeks ago, I ignored it. How could I be sick? I was taking all my asthma meds, drinking gallons of orange juice, washing my hands at every turn, bundling up in the cold, taking vitamins — I thought I was invincible, totally immune to life, a germ-free Wonder Woman, if you will. And, like Wonder Woman, as my “cough” developed, I continued to live my life as usual, hitting the 9-to-5, and then going to the gym. As the days went on, my cough worsened, but I still went to work [Stop judging me, you do it, too].
Reality hit me when the fever did, and I finally went to the doctor. Days after I ignored her direct orders to stay home, I lay in bed with a fever, chest glistening from vapo-rub, and knocked out by antibiotics and cough medicine. [By the way, bronchitis, I HATE you!] Forced by the snowstorm to stay home and rest, I am just now starting to feel like myself again. Thanks to some homemade chicken soup and brownies [thanks Roomie!], when I tell people that I am feeling better, it’s actually the truth.
I have learned my lesson: being a work martyr benefits no one. I can’t do anyone any good if I’m feeling any less than my best. Though medicine can help clear up symptoms, the only real cure is rest. I can catch up with life next week; it’s not going anywhere.
In the meantime, MAC is launching its Wonder Woman collection next month. [squeals] I’m definitely going to snag a lipglass.