I didn’t make it to my personal training session on Wednesday. I’d spent the night before with a throwing up bug, which won over my throwing up phobia at least six times. At about 4 in the morning, I thought it’d be a stellar idea to sleep in the bathroom. Instead, I went back to bed and spooned with Freddy The Fuck It Bucket. Named after what I yelled out right before I spewed into it. It gave me some…
