Get Ready, Get Set . . . Phase 2!

So it's been awhile since I blogged because I took it easy the past week. I finished my first 5 weeks, met with trainer Jill and had lost 9.5% body fat! I met my goal and then some, dropping to just over 119 lbs. She had me arrive for our follow-up in a bikini. Nothin' like being on display as she studied my physique, like a skilled sculptor assessing a work in progress. Apparently, I need a bigger bum and flatter tummy, because she recommended that I really hit the glutes and abs! Yes, fitmama can take a hint! It's not the first time my cupcakes have fallen flat, and at least she was kind about it-- unlike certain family members at reunions whose first remark upon seeing me after years is not "hi, you look great" but "you have no butt, just like Grandma."

I felt great about my tan but insecure about stretch marks (trainer Jill has none, despite many babies), but she pointed out it's nothin' a good spray tan can't fix. We'll see about that if I ever get the guts to actually compete . . . She also recommended I go lighter on inner and outer thighs, if at all. Yes, mama's got Olympian thighs, all that running. But she's right-- I do get carried away on abductors and adductors because I'm just so damn proud of the fact that I've almost maxed out on the machine. Pride. I like to take it to the highest notches, esp. after a man has been on the machine. Then I smirk, with a look on my face that says, "Yes, I could strangle you with these puppies."

After staring me up and down, she got to work with directions: this many reps on this muscle, and light load here, and heavy load there, and do this on this day and that on that day. My head is still spinning. Luckily, she typed it all up for me, but I know I'm going to spend the first couple weeks getting my new routine down. Then she furiously began crunching numbers on her calculator, now focused on my diet. Again, she gave me all sorts of new directions, after I finally figured out the first phase of eating, now it's totally re-vamped. I've spent the past 48 hours trying to work out my new meal plans. I get so confused that once I figure out a meal that fits all the requirements, I repeat it every day!

Basically, I now get more carbs, but it's mostly fruits and veggies. Well, mostly veggies. Even for breakfast. No more oatmeal. Have I mentioned that I've eaten oatmeal virtually every single morning for the past five years of my life? I'm kind of an addict. It's my comfort food. Warm, mildly sweet, filling, clean, reliable oatmeal. Now if I want to partake, it's for dinner, every 4th day, when I get a meal of choice. And yes, I may actually choose oatmeal over a Cafe Rio salad.

I figured if I could throw some spinach and fruit into a blender with protein powder, I'd have an easy breakfast that fit the bill. But right now, trainer Jill says no shakes or juices. The real stuff, untouched. Now I'm trying to concoct an egg white veggie casserole that I could pre-bake, then nuke every morning and eat with a side of fruit. I hope that fits the bill. Do you realize how much spinach it takes to equal 9 grams of carbs?? I'm guesstimating that I'll go through at least 4 of the Costco-sized tubs of spinach a week. Just not sure I could stomach raw carrots and broccoli for breakfast.

I thought the first phase of eating was difficult-- this next phase appears a bit harder, despite the complex carb allowance (which generally equals the equivalent of 1 slice of Sara Lee Delightful bread or 3 Stacy's Naked Pita chips a meal). I only get 5 meals as opposed to 6, which I really liked because when I felt moments of desperation, I knew my next meal was just around the corner. Now I have an extra hour of waiting. I'm sure I'll fill the time productively . . .  I've found Orbitz gum gets me from meal to meal, but I think my jaw is starting to pay for it. Or maybe it was the stress last week of studying and taking the Praxis exam, which I'm worried I may have failed because writer mama spent too much time on the first few essay questions and didn't finish them all.

At least it's over. And now I can stop all the stress cheat-eating, and start this new phase of eating. Stay tuned . . .

It IS Worth It!

Okay, so my last post I was feeling grumpy and sugar-depived. But this morning I weighed in: 119.3. Wow!! The last time I weighed less than 120 was a few years ago after a bout of the stomach flu so bad that I actually vomited for the first time in 17 years. (I suffer from emetophobia, the fear of vomiting and choking, after almost dying at age 10 from choking on a hot dog. Usually, it doesn't matter how nauseated I feel, my body will NOT throw up. But I digress, and how badly! Yuck, forget I ever said anything . . .)

Anyhoo, 119.3. I celebrated by taking some more "during pics".

As you can tell, I have NOT met with a pose coach. And because every member of my family was busy, I was using the 10 second timer on my digital camera. Occasionally, my 8-year old daughter walked by and shot one for me, but those were all blurry. Apparently 8 year-olds aren't known for their steady hands. Other than cropping and color fixes, I did not alter these photos at all, so forgive the stretch marks. Just keepin' it real, people.

Not sure if any women with stretch marks actually compete in figure competitions, because I don't think a spray tan would hide those. Duct tape? But if you've seen the itsy bitsy size of those string bikinis (which leads me to wonder why they cost so much since obviously so little fabric is actually required), well, I seriously doubt there's room for magic tape.

Trainer Jill has me listing questions I have for her; maybe I should ask her about this . . .

I also celebrated this joyous occasion by REALLY having a cheat. Two chocolate chip cookies and one small scoop of vanilla ice cream. Not just a nibble, but the whole entire cookie. Sadly, it was a break and bake because I knew if I made homemade I'd eat all the batter first, so the cookies weren't all that tasty. And they were slightly overbaked, despite my shortening the called-for bake time by a couple minutes. Oh well. Next time my cheat will have to be at book group, where other women who know how to bake are serving dessert!

Until next time . . . here's two more pics:

3 Days to Go . . .

Yes, only 3 days left to lose 1 lb. For some reason, this last week has been challenging, probably more so than the first week. The first week, I was zealous for change! I had no idea what I was in for, and I was actually excited about the mystery of it all. Now, the mystery has faded, and all I feel is a desperate longing for dark chocolate. (Shhh . . . I ate 2 Ghiradelli 60% cocoa chocolate chips after meal #4 today. I wish I had sucked on them instead of gobbling them up, but at least I could still taste them on my teeth for a few minutes afterwards.)

Perhaps this week was made more difficult because it was my "social" week-- bunco Tuesday night followed by Book Group Thursday night. In the least tacky way possible, I tried to find out what my adorable Bunco host was planning for dinner. I needed to know: should I eat at home first or would there be something that fit my high-maintenance-I'm-so-special diet needs? First I interrogated a few other friends, who of course did not have the 411. Finally, I just sent a casual text: hey, babe. what's for dinner? Reply: taco salad. is that okay? (ahh, relief. anything with salad I could work with). text: perfect! anything with protein and veggies works. reply: my opinion, too :)

I should not have worried. She is a friend I can rely on for offering healthier fare. The taco salad was a la carte, and I loaded up on gorgeous salad greens, cilantro, green onions, kidney beans, and just a Tbsp of ground beef. (Yes, I brought the Beano.) It was so easy to skip the chips, dressing, sour cream, and cheese. What was not so easy to skip was the homemade sugary buttery monkey bread sitting on her oven. I succumbed to just one bite, then walked away. Damn those baked goodies-- my constant Achilles heel! WIll I ever NOT be attracted to the sweet smell of cookies, cakes, sweet breads, and pies?

To those readers who have not had the delight of participating in the game of Bunco, let me clue you in. Bunco night is generally 50% about the dice game (aka socializing while we roll dice) and 50% about the food. I skipped last month's Bunco, I'm embarrassed to admit, because I had just started the diet and didn't think I had the willpower and know-how to survive Bunco night unscathed. I blamed it on the hubby, though. Poor scapegoat. But back to the 50% food . . . in addition to dinner and dessert, there are bowls of candy on every table. Luckily, I am not tempted by Red Vines, but it did take some fortitude to ignore the Starbursts and mini-Snickers. I read in a recent article that it's harder to eat healthy if you are around skinny friends eating a lot of food as opposed to overweight friends eating a lot of food. When you see your skinny friends eating a lot, you feel that you, too, can eat like that and be skinny. Unfortunately, that is usually NOT the case. Either they have this disgustingly amazing metabolism or they just workout hours a day. Trust me, if you've ever seen me pigging out, it's the latter! I come from a family of gastric bypass patients-- fat LOVES us. I thought that article was really interesting, though. I kept it in mind at Bunco, reminding myself that just because all my skinny friends were downing the candy bowls didn't mean that I could get away with it. So I was a good girl. And . . . I won most buncos and the cutest necklace and got my highest score ever-- 424, beat that! Yeah, someone got 429 just to take the wind out of my sails, but I was still mighty stoked (I think only Utahns still use this word.)

So I survived Tuesday night for the most part. Enter Thursday night. Book group, luckily, is 30% about the book we read, 60% socializing and laughing and venting about our lives as wives, mothers, neighbors, sisters, and every other role we have to fill that we're not always thrilled about, and 10% about the food (okay, 50% about the food if you're the host). These girls are classy, talented, well-read, smart, and all very, very good bakers. It's criminal. I can't compete, and I've already exhausted my only good dessert-- dark chocolate fondue. Not only can I not compete, but I currently can't PARTAKE. Which is even more criminal!

The adorable host made this apple spice cake drizzled in caramel and vanilla ice cream that belonged on the cover of a Betty Crocker cookbook. No, Martha Stewart cookbook. Well, something more sophisticated-- if I bought those kinds of cookbooks I would know. But all I have are titled, "The Healthy Heart Cookbook" and "The Real Life Diet Cookbook" and "The Paul Family Reunion Cookbook". Everyone knew I shouldn't eat it because they are all in on my diet venture. But how could they possibly quell their moans of pleasure, compliments of delight, and looks of sheer joy? I drank my water. Then when everyone was busily chatting, I slipped unnoticed to where the host was still dishing out her dreamy, delectable dessert. I whispered to her, "Shhh. Just one bite please." She handed me a plate that she had already put a whole serving on. "I don't want to waste." "It's okay; it's already dished." I stealthily stole one bite of that heavenly cake and one bite of that creamy vanilla ice cream. And then I sat down. That was all I needed. I winked at her. "Don't let them know I really did taste it!"

Assuming that some of them read this blog, the truth is now out. Yes, I really do know how yummy that dessert was, I confess, I confess. Trainer Jill, please don't read this because I don't want to have to count that as my cheat for the week! If that was my true cheat, I would've eaten the whole thing! Jill warned me about these situations.

So people keep asking me if this diet, this program, this goal, whatever you want to call it . . . if it's temporary, or if it's a life change. There are moments when I want to say, "Oh, definitely, a life change! I never want to eat sugar again." Then there's the realistic me that thinks, "I want to continue this lifestyle but not as strict. I do want to continue to reduce my sugar-intake and eat more raw, real foods." But occasionally, there are the moments when, I confess, I think, "This sucks! My body's fine the way it is. I want to be a normal person and eat PBJs and pita chips and pineapple, lots of it, and ice cream, and cookies, even ones that come in a box, FOR THE LOVE!"

So we'll see which way I go . . .

Queen of Beano

Okay, I promised some more TMI, and here it is . . . this new diet has its side effects. Besides weight loss, more defined muscles, and feeling cleaner, it does have one big negative side effect: gas & bloating. Luckily, I've learned to nip it in the bud with 3 Beanos with every meal. I'm going through 12-15 Beanos a day-- I should buy some stock! My maiden name is "Rabino" and I always hated being called "Beano" in high school. But now, I must accept this nickname proudly. I love that stuff!

What good is all the weight loss, if by the end of the day, I looked 4 months pregnant? I'd pop some Gas X and within 30 minutes, I had deflated. Deflation is not pretty. I'm talkin' stinkiest toots ever. And some unique yoga poses to get those toxic gases to escape as quickly as possible. The hubby was not too thrilled with me. My love life truly suffered. Until Beano, baby.

So I know some lady friends who absolutely refuse to pass gas in front of their husbands. Some have been married for over 30 years, and have yet to let a toot escape in front of their man. Am I uncouth?? Because I don't understand how it's okay for your hubby to witness you push a fetus out of your vajayjay but you have qualms about lettin' a little gas out. My hubby's my BFF; he actually IS the only person, besides my sisters, who I WOULD pass gas in front of. That's love, baby. Take me as I am, and I take you as you are. Pure honesty. I do give him a heads up, sometimes. But if I had to leave the room every time I had to toot, we'd have to spend entire evenings apart! Just keepin' it real, people. Please comment if you agree with me. Or completely disagree with me. I'm super curious as to the statistics regarding spousal flatulation.

So here's an updated pic, sans bloating . . . compare to the before pic.

The Workouts

Sorry to my followers, all 3 of you. It was Spring Break this past week, and I've been busily playing with my kids. Fortunately, I've recovered from that initial sugar-free irritability, so I actually enjoyed our week together, for the most part. On Tuesday, after teaching my Zumba class in the morning & because I cancelled my running class for Wednesday morning, I packed up the kids, our swimsuits, and hiking shoes, and headed 3 1/2 hours south to Utah's only hot dessert, St. George. I was sick of rain, snow, hail, and freezing temps, and I was determined to chase some warmer weather, even if it meant 3 1/2 hours in a minivan with 3 kids and no DVD player.

The kids were pretty good during most of the drive, but my bladder, not so much. Have I mentioned that my trainer recommended I drink a gallon of water a day? After 45 minutes of driving, I had to hit a gas station restroom. I don't even feel guilty that I get no gas, no giant plastic cups of carbonated, sugary beverages, no chocolate-covered miniature cake donuts. I'm a woman with a purpose: must empty bladder.

I realized that I would have to halt my water drinking for the remainder of the drive, because after that particular city, there's a lot of nothin' for endless miles. I don't even pop a squat during a marathon; I am by no means doing it during a road trip in the middle of a cold, deserted highway.

I tried to stick to my eating, though, as much as possible on this road trip. I had my cooler within reach, packed with hard-boiled egg whites, liquid morph, and deli-sliced ham. I had my cocoa almonds handy for when I needed something sweet. I didn't even touch the kids' pretzels, granola bars, and leftover Easter candy (okay, there may have been some jelly bean slippage, but it was negligible). I also packed my protein powder and shaker bottle. I was set.

When we arrived in St. George, we hit the outlet shops, then dinner at Chili's. Luckily, as far as I'm concerned, one does not go to St. George for its unique and to-die-for cuisine. I opted for Chili's because I knew I could get the guiltless salmon, no rice. Then we went to the family-friendly Budget Inn & Suites, equipped with an indoor pool/hot tub, outdoor pool/hot tub, indoor playground with ball pit, and outdoor playground. And of course, the room. My kids love a hotel room, despite that I made my oldest two crash on the floor with sleeping bags so that I didn't have to pay extra for two beds. They love sleeping on the floor, though. Even my youngest wanted to sleep with them instead of with me in the bed (though she did find her way into it during the middle of the night).

I sipped my Liquid Morph mixer (I can't down an entire one, 45 g of pure protein goo, so I mix half of one with water and lots of ice) as I watched the kids play in the 2-story slides of the indoor playground. Then it was off to bed, after studying the hotel map to locate the weight room.

Naturally, my bladder awoke me early. These days, I can't pee in a single stream. It sounds like I've got stage fright, the way my pee jerks for ten minutes, but really, there's just so much of it! TMI, I know. Get ready for more to come in my next post . . .

I hit the weight room by 6:30 a.m. Wednesdays are my weight training days. Usually I hit the weight room at the fitness facility I work at, and I hit it hard. Every major muscle group, 3 sets, 8-16 reps, moderate to heavy loads. However, this teeny hotel "fitness room" left much to be desired. There were a few cardio machines, unused at the moment, as was the Schwinn weight system (maybe Schwinn should stick to bikes). I was the sole gym rat in the room. Nice. Since I hadn't bothered with my contacts or make-up or hair. Luckily there were posters on the wall with instructions and photos as to proper use of the all-in-one machine. Though the machine on the posters and the one in the room were slightly different, and I found no good way to work my upper back or biceps. I did the best I could.

As I did my thang in the weight room that morning, I realized all my blog posts have been about my diet. Nothing about my workouts. This is due to the fact that I LIKE working out; it's my job and my addiction. But for the sake of filling in my followers, yes, all 3 of you, here's my typical week (it's different if I'm marathon-training or subbing or teaching workshops):

Monday: 8 am- private yoga client, 9:30 am- teach power yoga class, 8 pm- teach Pilates Fusion class (I consider this day a weights day)
Tuesday: 8:15 am- run 4 miles, 9 am- teach a 30-min. Zumba 9:30 a.m.- PT clients (not much of a workout for me unless I'm demoing something)
Wednesday: 8 a.m.- weights, 9 a.m.- teach Running class (ditto last parenthesis)
Thursday: 8:45 a.m.- elliptical/stairclimber, 9:30 a.m.- teach 40-min Zumba, 20 minutes Pilates
Friday: 8:15 am- teach 1-hr Cycle class, 9:15- weights
Saturday: every other one I teach Power Yoga 8 am, every Sat. I also run my current long distance (this week it was 8.25 miles)
Sunday: rest

I avoid boredom by teaching a variety of different formats. And I love the people in my classes, so even if I feel a little burnt out, once I start going, I feel the music, the endorphins, the positive energy, and I'm always glad I'm there. I know "aerobics instructor" sounds trivial, but I've actually had, more than once, a class participant tell me that's the most fun they've had since their husband/brother/loved one died. And I think, "Wow, a Zumba class? My Cycle class?" A simple hour of allowing them to forget their worries, burdens, stress, anxiety, and throwing all that negative junk into sweat and determination and laughter. Feeling your blood pumping in your veins, your heart rate speeding up, your muscles firing, your very cellular structure changing-- it all makes you know you're alive. And I give that to people every day.

So that's why the workouts are "easy", even though they are far from actually being easy. Well, speaking of easy . . . the hubby just asked what's for dinner.

"Well, I just had 4 hard-boiled egg whites, a slice of turkey, and some raw veggies."

"But what are WE eating?"

"Hmm . . . egg rolls, cereal, veggies and turkey sandwiches?"

"Sandwiches. That sounds good."

"Okay, well, go make it."

Hubby, put out. Sighs. Pouts.

"Okay, I'll make it." Apparently sandwiches are a challenging cuisine.

Until next time . . .

3 weeks down . . . 2 to go

Stats as of this morning. Weight: 122.1. lost 5.1 lbs. Lost 2 1/4 inches from my waist, 1 1/2 inches from my hips, 1 3/4 inches from the thigh, 3/4 inch from the calf, 1/2 inch from upper arms, and 1/2 inch from forearm.

Yay! This is such a relief because I had a cheat day yesterday and worried I might have blown it all. Not that I overdid it, but I did sneak a few Easter treats & I know my sugar intake yesterday was much higher than it's been the past 3 weeks, but still much lower than my previous norm. I can see, though, how easy it would be to slip right back to old habits. It really is a daily decision-- wake up, commit to the goal, and re-commit every hour. You don't just "give up sugar" and move on with your life.

I can see how giving up a drug or nicotine addiction would be the same. We "sugar-free" peeps need to stick together, hold Sugar Anonymous meetings, swap degrading stories of cookie raids and Reese's Pieces binges. We live in a sugary world, at least a sugary nation, and we are an abused small population. We are inundated with sugar from a young age. We connect getting money (i.e. trip to the bank) with receiving sugar (i.e. free lollipops); we connect the joy of self-celebration (i.e. birthdays) with the mandatory cake and ice cream-- this starts at age 1, when our parents giddily video us gorging our faces, sparse hair, neck creases, belly buttons with frosting and spongy, moist Betty Crocker yellow, chocolate, or butter cream cake. Besides environmental influences, there's the biological fact that our taste buds are drawn to sweet tastes to prevent us from eating bitter, sour poisons. The cards are stacked against us before we're even born.

But children all over the world learn to take sweetness from the earth. From bananas, and pears, and pineapple, and carrots. They grow up knowing that food grows. In America, food comes in jars and in boxes, in plastic wrapping and bottles, with colorful labels and catchy names, like Twinkie and Sprite. In America, we "sugar avoiders" are WEIRD, SCARY, and ABNORMAL. Or stuck up food snobs. Hey, I'll take it. Rather be food snob than a food slob. Maybe I should start a United Front of Food Snobs. That's catchy.

Here's a nice, concise list I found of why sugar is really not so sweet: http://www.rheumatic.org/sugar.htm

In the end, everyone makes a choice. Some decide, "I'd rather die happy and full of sugar." Others think, "I don't drink; I don't smoke. Sugar is fine." And still most incorrectly say to themselves, "I don't eat that much sugar." They just haven't sat down and done the math. But a few do sit down and do the math. And a few understand their body for what it really is-- the only thing they're living in. And they decide to constantly improve what they put into their bodies. And eventually, that means cutting back on the sugar. WAY back.

Some may say my quest is vanity-driven. Perhaps it began that way. Let's face it, who doesn't want to have a rockin' bod? But what I've found in this process is a great humility, an amazing awe of the human spirit, of will power and determination. I've discovered the intricacies of the human body and just how sensitive it is to what we put into it. I've recognized the divinity of every muscle, tissue, organ, and cell of this body that houses my spirit, or deeper self. This body that gave life to three amazingly beautiful children, whose lives I want to be a part of for as long as possible. This body that is my only vehicle for communicating, for working, for serving and helping, for loving and giving, for teaching and performing, for hugging and holding, for seeing and feeling. This body. People spend their entire lives searching for divinity and looking outside of themselves. But if you've ever held a newborn, you know. That divinity has been inside the body all along.

The body is its own universe. May I always treat mine with gratitude and respect.

Day 19: Temptations Abound!

Today I am struggling a bit. I started my day with my much-anticipated oatmeal (I love breakfast because I'm allowed some carbs and a touch of simple carbs!). Then I taught a Cycle (Spin) class for an hour, then topped it off with 45 minutes hard on the weights. I drank my post-workout protein (found a powder at Good Earth that has no fat and negligible carbs). So far, so good . . .

Then I showered and got dolled up for this PTA Awards luncheon at the district office. I actually interrogated the PTA Pres beforehand and got intel that it was catered, Wallaby's. I knew the hubby would be pleased about that (bbq pulled meat is a man's food!), but I knew I may have very few options for my plate. I armed myself with a strong mindset. It helped that a few people at the table knew about this program I'm following, so even if I wanted to, I couldn't scarf down that casual Aussie buffet. What I wasn't prepared for were the plates of straberry-raspberry drenched cheesecake slices placed so conveniently in front of everyone's place setting. I pushed mine slightly out of view and tried to forget about it.

I piled my plate with the plain bagged salad, no dressing, no croutons, then estimated 4 ounces of plain pulled pork. Luckily the sugary bbq sauces were on the side, but who knows how much sugar the pork was cooked in. Unfortunately, protein-wise, my choices were pork and beef. I hoped that pork was the wiser pick, but not too sure on that. Ideally, they would have had chicken, but whatcha gonna do . . . I gracefully skipped the thick-sliced fresh baked white bread and of course the cheesy bacony smashed potatoes.

Did I mention there was also candy strewn on the table? I tossed three Starbursts in my purse as future kid-bribery, but partook of nothing. I had been drinking water all morning, so I had to politely excuse myself twice to relieve my ever-filling bladder. And I used conversation and program reading to avoid feeling bored while everyone else continued to eat and eat and eat.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. I looked at the cheesecake. I looked at my hubby. "One bite won't kill me, right?" He did NOT come to my aid. So I delicately took my clear plastic fork and very daintily stabbed the strawberry on top. One strawberry half. Harmless. Oooh, but that raspberry topping begged to be tasted, and well, it needed just a teeny bit of cheesecake to complement it. Once I had ingested all the fruity decadence and a skimming of cheesecake, I gained composure and pushed the plate away. I had to fight that voice in my head, "You're wasting perfectly good cheesecake!" But I stayed strong. Despite a moment of weakness, I felt proud that I left 90% of that cheesecake intact.

I tried to make up for that mishap by keeping my next "meal" very small. 4 hard-boiled egg whites. That's all I had time for, too. I had to go to the school and fulfill my volunteer chorus duties. When I got home, I was still a bit hungry, so I had some fruit (strawberries, blueberries, grapes.) This was slightly cheating, too, because fruit tends to be a naturally sugary carb, so I should eat them early in the day and stick to veggies after 3 pm, but I can't help it. I love me some fruit.

My silly slip was when the kids came home from school with all their Easter party goodies. Daughter #2 left hers spread all over the kitchen table. I tried to avoid eye contact, but 3 jelly beans and 1 robin egg got me. I told said daughter to remove her candy from public view. She ignored me. I tossed them in the trash. That'll show that evil candy who's boss! It'll also show my kids, Mom means business. I'm sure with the upcoming onslaught of Easter candy tomorrow and Sunday, she won't even miss those jelly beans and bubble gum.

The question is . . . how am I going to survive the onslaught of candy? Again, I need to put on my armor of Willpower, knowing that the enemy soon will strike. I know his face; I know his name; I know his power. (bright yellow and orange and brown packaging, Reese's Peanut Butter eggs, gluttonous devouring). It's not like I'm going into this weekend blindly and unawares. I'm still scared.

I am allowed one cheat meal on the weekend. But I feel like I kinda already took it today. And do I dare waste an entire meal with one peanut butter egg or a handful of robin eggs? Luckily, we're not involved in any huge family dinners. We can thank travel plans on his side and drama on my side for that. So no worries over honey-glazed hams, twice-baked potatoes, rolls, butter, cakes, pies, more butter. We're having a small dinner, grilled salmon, salad, raw veggies. I think I'll make the kids egg-shaped ham and cheese sandwiches & maybe let them bake those not-very-tempting Pillsbury ready-bake cookies. Although when depriving oneself of even basic food luxuries (like crackers), even gross food starts to look desirable.

Tonight after eating my delicious mahi and veggies, I made the rest of the fam a store-bought oven pizza & salad. I thought I'd be okay slicing it up for them, but the gooey cheesy pepperoni that slipped off looked, I'm embarrassed to admit, slightly heavenly. I resisted, though. A woman can only sink so low in one day.

Instead I had a serving of cocoa almonds. Yes, they have a bit too much fat for my program, but they are my saving grace right now. Better than M&Ms, those cocoa almonds. And hard to find. Not every grocery store carries them, and I have yet to memorize which ones do. When I do see them, I stock up. I think it's Target that has them.

On the plus side, two people who don't see me on a daily basis saw me today and commented on my weight loss. Wow. Is 4 pounds that noticeable? And . . . those super tight boutique jeans I got? I'm wearing them right now and can actually breathe while I sit.

So yes. I can get through this weekend. I must. And I really need to buckle down the final two weeks before I follow up with my trainer. I don't want to look like a schmuck to a colleague!

Well, my eggs are done boiling. Time to go peel.