Add to that very little sleep and a lot of partying, and I guess you could say I brought it on myself. It means I'm not able to get back into my workout regime right away as I'd have liked to -- this long away from the gym, plus reduced lung capacity, is making it even more nerve-wracking to go back.
However, while I know my first workout back will probably be nauseating, I also know that I'll get through it and that things can only get better.
However, I did make it in to the gym (which I missed, oddly enough) to be weighed and measured (shivering and clammy after a trip to the doctor -- it's all glamour!).
I was really nervous because it had become nigh on impossible to stick to my diet in New York, especially when slightly tender the morning after the night before, and I'd been indulging in forbidden foods, like chips and chocolate. Not as much as I normally would in the States mind, but enough to make me feel guilty.
I was also drinking every night, but sticking to spirits and soda water as Pat advised... and maybe the odd light beer. Still, imagine my surprise when Pat told me I'd lost a further 3lbs, taking me down to 10st 9lbs.
Actually, 'shock' is a more accurate word. I did think I looked thinner in my mirror at home that morning, but also that it was probably jet lag and sickness influencing my sight.
I also lost an inch and a quarter from my thighs (all that walking, dancing and Subway-stairs climbing, I imagine) and a half inch from my calves, which is apparently a tough area to shift weight from, as well as quarter inches here and there all over my body.
I wouldn't be surprised if this was all a fluke result of lots of travel, but it's reinforced my determination that gluttony isn't good.
I may have indulged while away, but the programme was always in the back of my mind and not once did I sit in bed gorging on Reese's Pieces the way I normally would in the Big Apple.
I also didn't bring back a glut of candy and booze and have resolved to stay away from the demon drink until this mission is complete.