The Artful Nomad: When sick, your body needs ice cream and soup

I’m sick, so I’m eating ice cream for breakfast in bed. With cereal sprinkled on a small teacup of sugary vanilla-cool goodness, I know my breakfast is not one of champions. My superhero self has been knocked on her butt, and while NYC braced itself for a huge storm, I laid around indifferently, hoping the snow would bury us in, and I could heal myself and crawl out intact after the thaw. The snow did not plummet down on the city, but some bug came and attacked me. Less than a week ago I sat on a plane full of excitement, headed to the east coast for a blaze of shoots and some time to hang out with my favorite people in the city. Now I feel most of my time has washed away, with only 4 workdays remaining after my last 3 days have passed in a daze.

Before laid up in bed with a backache, headache, pathetic cough, zero energy, and dizziness, I had been on a gradual ride. My first few days included reciting haikus, figure nudes with dramatic light and a smoke machine, a “romantic” duo shoot with my pal Inna B_G, and a shoot where I got to remind one of my perviest photographer friends that there is some merit in art nudes. I also played MUA and stylist for an editorial shoot – something I do not get to do enough of. And another great session of bodyscapes with an art photographer who understands that strange angles and anonymous images can make for awesome art. The final shoot before I went out of commission was my customary caffeine-fueled collaboration with a photographer who encourages my flair of weird art , with a bit of classically beautiful work thrown in the mix , and the same photographer friend who ended up caring for my pitiful ass last night as I deemed a shared bed or a cramped love-seat unsuitable for my sickly self, and sought out other shelter.

I have survived on ice cream and soup the past three days. I gravitate towards these things whenever sick – figuring my body needs the calories, and we all know the purported magical healing properties of soup. My father's side of the family would agree with the ice cream, and my mother with the soup (but she would advise matzoh ball soup above all), so a combination of both and one can't go wrong.