Sick…Again

Okay, I ask you. How many times, for the love of God, can one person get sick in six months? If you’re me, apparently lots of times! Normally I get sick once, twice a year. I’ve been in Paris for six months and have been sick FOUR times! Two bad head colds in the first two months, a nasty case of strep throat in month four, and now, another frickin’ cold (with the works: chills, fever, stuffy nose, cough, etc.). The sun is shining and I’m sick. But I’m not bitter or anything.

The best I can discern, the stress of the move, the stress of all I have to do, the stress of Paris, and the actual seasons that Paris possesses -- wind, cold, snow (argh!), rain, thunder, lightening, then sun -- are constantly taking their toll on my body. It’s hard to stop and smell the roses when your nose is stuffed up. But I’m not bitter or anything.

In happier news, for those of you following my weight loss odyssey, I have officially lost two sizes! Yea. It’s all the walking. I swear, I changed Metro lines at Montparnasse and it was a twenty-minute walk inside the station to get there – not including going up and down at least 3 flights of stairs. My metro station (Abbesses) is in the bowels of the earth. The elevator gave out the other day, so I walked: all 125 steps. I was almost weeping when I got to the top. Gotta love the Paris diet, where the motto is: If you can find your way out of the metro station and you’re still breathing, you can have a croissant!

And my glorious (and expensive) new bras are going to be too big very soon. I know, let’s have a fundraiser for yours truly: Donate money so Robin’s beautiful breasts don’t jiggle excessively in Paris. Keep our freakish ebony sister in Parisian lingerie. No? Alright, that’s ok, I’m not bitter or anything! Bisous (kisses) until next time!