Legend has it that a man visited our newsroom one day years ago insisting that he had come up with the cure for cancer. As the story goes, the first person he encountered was a harried assistant sports editor.

Upon hearing the man’s pitch, the sports guy responded: “Can you come back later? We’re on deadline right now.”

Unfortunately, the man never returned and as far as anyone knows, the cure was never revealed to humanity. But at least the paper got out on time.

That leads me to a discovery of my own — the cure for an admittedly lesser ailment, but one that many of us are dealing with today — Dunlap’s disease. The condition is easily recognizable because you can see that the bellies of those afflicted have “done lapped” over their belts.

Forget Ozempic, Wegovy, Mounjaro and all the other GLP-1 drugs. You don’t need them for quick and — I presume — sustained weight loss.

Listen up, fellow fat folks: All you have to do is catch the nasty flu bug that seems to be swirling around just about everywhere, and you will quickly lose any and all interest in stuffing your face.

I woke up a week ago Thursday feeling like I’d just tried to play backyard football for the first time since the early 1990s. Everything hurt, but it wasn’t the usual old-guy-slept-wrong kind of pain. This felt like I had tried to get between the cast of “The View” and some doughnuts or perhaps tried to tackle 2002 Maurice Clarett.

My concerns about the body aches quickly were supplanted by six bathroom visits between 5 a.m. and 9 a.m. But wait — there’s more.

After the last bathroom visit, I stood at the sink for a bit after washing my hands, but not because I was particularly enchanted by the death-warmed-over image in the mirror staring back at me.

I just felt something was about to happen, and it wasn’t going to be good. I’m sure you’ve experienced the feeling that comes over you moments before you start vomiting.

I know, I know. Maybe you’re eating breakfast or enjoying your morning coffee, so the last thing you want to read about is the contents of someone’s stomach coming up. Trust me — it was about as pleasant as you can imagine. But unlike that girl who threw up one morning in third grade — literally right in the classroom doorway — this wasn’t destined to be a one-and-done.

Nope. It turns out that my stomach wasn’t having anything that day. Not even water or diet ginger ale. It was like clockwork. Twenty minutes after I drank anything, I was doing my own version of Linda Blair from “The Exorcist” or the pie-eating contest in “Stand by Me.”

What a conundrum. I wanted and needed to try to stay hydrated, but it was futile. I ended up having eight to nine separate “episodes” before the flu bug showed me an ounce of mercy. The last bit of projectile stomach-emptying (how’s that for a euphemism?) came at 11 p.m. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was sitting on the edge of the bed to see the last bit of ginger ale I had staying or going.

So I ended up going from Wednesday evening to late afternoon Friday without eating a thing. I forced myself to try a few small bits of food during the weekend, but I didn’t feel even half-normal until Monday morning.

But you know me — I’m Mr. Brightside, always focusing on the positive. When I weighed myself Monday, I was down nine pounds, and I didn’t even need an off-label prescription.

Sure, the process was a bit unpleasant, but I’d rather focus on achieving goals.You see, there are a couple of big events coming up this year that I wanted to show up for with less of me stuffed into my clothes.

One is next month’s Ohio Prep Sports Media Hall of Fame induction during the high school boys state basketball tournament in Dayton. I don’t want to look like a guy who’s spent much of the last four decades eating hot dogs in press boxes across the Midwest.

The other is my daughter’s wedding in November. That’s the big one. I don’t want to waddle with her down the aisle, so I’d already begun to cut back on my normal four food groups — pizza, pasta, potatoes and desserts — in favor of stuff that is better for me even before I caught the bug.

But in all seriousness, the flu so many of us are seeing and experiencing is no joke and — of course — throwing up your lunch is not the way you want to lose weight and feel better in the long term.

I give it two thumbs down.

Ed Puskas is editor of the Tribune Chronicle and The Vindicator. Contact him at epuskas@tribtoay.com or 330-841-1786.