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The rest of the world might be working for the weekend; but I’m working for the Carrot Cake. Just sayin’.

The caption above sums up the post below in case you don’t want to wade through my drivel. But you might want to humor me, since my server connection crashed while writing the first pass at this post and I had to write it a second time. Hey, I’m not above a pity read.

Checking in:

I’m just beginning week three of Operation Goo Goo and I’m feeling pretty good about my progress. I actually look forward to my hour each day in the gym. The minute Sophie sees me put on my shoes, she gets really excited and heads for the basement door, tail wagging her body. I spend my time listening to my favorite internet radio station (Radioio) and catching videos on YouTube during the commercial breaks.

I’m not losing much in terms of weight yet, but I’ve dropped over an inch in both my waist and hips. I’m OK with swapping out fat for muscle; because to a point, the scale lies anyhow.

Since I’m vain, I don’t post photos that will ever clue you in to how much I need to drop. But according to the medical charts (and my former Physician in Marin, whom I miss!) I am still 30 lbs overweight. Not obese, but certainly in need of shedding the pounds. For my heart, for my joints, and probably for my sanity. We won’t mention that pesky condition THE Diabetes. Of course, 30 lbs beats the 40 lbs I was at last year. Progress, not perfection, people!

I have made some adjustments to Operation Goo Goo. Seven days a week means no down time and that’s not working for me. I love me some down time. So, I’ve cut back to 6 days a week and am giving my body permission to take rest days if I need them. Working out sometimes triggers asthma attacks; not getting enough air makes me really tired by the end of the week. I spent last weekend in bed. This will abate eventually, especially once the weather warms. If it doesn’t, I’ll suck it up and get an inhaler. I’m inhaler adverse, but I’m not stupid.Honestly, I’ve been trying reach age 40 without needing one. Actually, I’ve been trying to get to 40 without needing any major medical intervention. Clearly, I’m more than inhaler adverse.

Let’s face it, though, you’re all here to see how the inhaling of chocolate and caramel and pecans and marshmallow went. After seven work-outs I tore open my Goo Goo and managed to not stuff the whole thing into my mouth at once. Mmm Wmarshmallowsh.

I wasn’t half way through it when I started to feel funny. You see, in addition to hitting the gym, I’ve also cut out most sugar from my diet. (And everything white. WHICH SUCKS!) All that sugar at once was a mistake. My head was screaming “Warning! Warning! Don’t finish that Goo Goo.” But you know I did. Commence Operation Diabetic Coma. I sucked down a glass of milk in a vain attempt to deter the affects of the sugar with some protein. It helped but not enough to keep me from being miserable the rest of the night.

Talk about disaster. To think, that just the day before I had sat and watched IZ eat a piece of the BEST Carrot Cake in the Universe and had nary a bite. NOT. ONE. BITE. I drooled, but that’s it. I had consoled myself with the thought of chocolate and caramel and pecans and marshmallow that was waiting for me. I had no idea that COMA was the next ingredient after Marshmallow.

So, no more Goo Goos for me. (No worries, though, the boy has discovered them and is in Southern Heaven. He’s my child, after all.) However, IZ has promised to treat me to a piece of Carrot Cake if I meet my goals this week. And he’s such a nice guy, he’s even offered to share the piece so that I’m not downing all that sugar (and calories) on my own. I see a fork fight ensuing on Friday.

I call dibs on the icing carrot.