We're on week 30 of HASAY. HASAY, in case you're just tuning in, is a bloggers weight-loss support group, masterminded by Casey. She runs the place with an iron fist. Nevermind that the iron fist is occasionally full of Cheetos.
So hubby and I are still doing our detox/cleanse, and amazingly sticking to it. He's regarding it as more of a temporary diet, I think, but is enormously supportive. It wouldn't do, as he says, to be eating Doritos and slugging back a Pepsi while your significant other is trying to subsist on organic salads and powdered fibre. It's just rude.
Plus, it might come back to bite you in the ass at some point. Ahem.
Anyway, my focus on my growling tummy sort of took back burner this weekend to my sick toddler. There is nothing quite like being repeatedly vomited on, worrying about whether you're going to have to pack the whole show off to the hospital for the love of Blog don't make me have to take him to the hospital, and then after you've just managed to do some vomit-covered laundry, you get hit with the second wave: diahrrea.
GOOD TIMES, people. Good times.
In addition to all the standing-and-rocking I've been doing, I managed to get in some yard work yesterday and some yoga prior to the Linda Blair impersonation. Not exactly aerobic, but I'm not providing my body a metric tonne of fuel right now, either.
The Wii Fit (after berating me) informed me that I'm down 3 lbs from my, um, fluffiest. I'm willing to bet that was just the contents of my colon. Hopefully I can flush a few more pounds out before I'm done.