Well, after many tears, and several vomits. I managed to wash my hair. I vomited while washing my hair. 
I then dragged my sorry carcass to Tesco, and bought every bit of food I even remotely fancied. I came away with salt and vinegar hula hoops, cheese strings, a vegetable lasange, melon, apples, mixed fresh fruit in one of those packs, cabbage, potatoes (for roasting!) and microchips. Oh and a big pack of capri suns. 3 packs of hula hoops and 6 juices later, I am feeling more rational. Please stay down, please stay down.
The dog has has 3 dentachews (mint yay). And I am roasting some potatoes as we speak.
I still feel like shit, but at least its better than earlier.
I'm banned from any future pregnancies
.
My mother, the cow, could only say 'well, maybe this baby is trying to tell you it doesn't want a fat mother' followed by 'well, at least you will lose some weight, god knows you need to'. Good fucking job she was on the other end of the phone. She just never lets up about my weight! Even when I was slimmer ffs!!
Thank you for reassuring me that I'm not alone here! Although I wouldn't wish this feeling on my worst enemy. It makes it slightly more bearable.