The 400 Calorie a Day Diet

I had been feeling very virtuous during a moment of reflection last saturday: the week before I had been working out a lot, cooking a ton and I would cap of the week by running a 10-mile race on Sunday. To prepare for my race I had made a healthy amount of pasta with parmesan, butter, black pepper and chives. It's simple and it's delicious. I went to bed at a very reasonable hour, with a self-satisfied grin, basking in how good I was being. Then apparently, while I slumbered, the Karma Fairy came and made me his prison girlfriend, because I woke up at 1:30 AM and preceded to puke for a good couple of hours. Pre-race jitters, right? Wrong, it's the fucking flu.

So, instead of burning off my beer gut the honest way--by giving my kneecaps and feet the kind of pounding that will make me need a HoverRound when I'm older--I dropped weight by puking so much that I cut something in my throat. Every time I eat or drink it feels like I'm trying to swallow glass, but I also fit into some old jeans, so, yay sickness! I think the last time I threw up was in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant while in France with Fidel, a robot, and not-yet-bald-but-getting-there artist. Wait, is fancy the right word?

UPDATE: So it appears that there has been a 1-inch piece of pasta lodged in my throat since Saturday night. I found this out by sticking my fingers down  my throat and pushing it further down. Now it's stuck in the lower portion of my throat. Bets on how long it takes to dissolve?