I woke up this morning feeling pukey and out of sorts.
It felt like morning sickness.
Ah ha, but we know that can't happen.
Yesterday, I started a new regime and I'm paying for it dearly today.
I finally succumbed to the siren call of the blood pressure medication that Dr. Ben was holding in his hand.
I fought him tooth and nail on taking medication. Like a Lincoln lawyer, I made my case. I work out an hour a day. I've scaled back on the alcohol. I'm eating better than Dr. Oz.
But numbers don't lie.
For the past week I've been testing my blood pressure and it's high -- 155 over 100 high. Dangerous high.
"Well, heart and stroke runs in the family," I conceded as I watched Dr. Ben's eyes twinkle.
"But I don't smoke!"
He shrugged and gave me a blister pack full of tiny pills which I'm finding even harder to swallow than the horse pills they call multivitamins.
I didn't feel too bad yesterday, but today I had a stomach ache as bad as if I'd been drinking shots at the Press Gallery Dinner.
Journos, I know, you can relate.
I'm also peeing like a racehorse. That can't be good.
I already have a three-baby bladder so a little added jolt to the old urinary tract is a deliverance from the devil. Might have to start wearing Depends.
I'm determined to go through this, though. I don't want Little Skye to know me as a drooling vegetable in the coming years. And I guess it's time to pay the piper for all those years misbehaving at the Press Club bar.
This morning, I needed to talk to somebody about my symptoms. Went to the gym and cornered one of the old farts who said he didn't know, as he wasn't on blood pressure medication.
There's another stereotype down the drain.
I must admit an hour of grueling activity on the eliptical and rower took my mind off the sailor's warning sea that is my gastro-intestinal tract.
But guess what?
Went to the Pharmaplus and my blood pressure was 140 over 94.
That's a whopping difference in just two days.
So that's something.
I need motivation if I'm going to get through this.
I'll just have to focus on Little Skye, who is the real reason I'm doing this.
I want to live out my final years on this planet as a useful member of society. I have to get to 67 to qualify for my pension just to prove something to that Rat's Ass Prime Minister of ours.
But Skye's the real reason.
I hope she's grateful and won't call me a stupid bitch when she's a teenager.
That, and blood pressure medication, would really piss me off.