Vaca is a week away. Seven days from now we will have landed in 80-degree weather, made it through customs and I hope to have a fruity drink in my hand by this time.
I've got nearly everything we need to leave tossed on a bed in a spare bedroom, just waiting for a final checklist and the commencement of suitcase stuffing.
So I'm ready. Sort of.
Still trying to prep my head for the week "off."
All I can eat and all I can drink and a lounge chair by the pool sounds so very good on the one hand and so very dangerous on the other.
People have been asking me if I'm going to take a "vacation" from the regiment of all this losing weight thing. But it's weird. I've come to view the workout as a fun and good part of my day ... not a punishment. So I plan on taking my tennis shoes and workout gear. Using them will make me feel better and that's what vacation is all about, right?
I'm a bit nervous about the eating. The good news is that to get food I have to order it ... so it's not like going to the pantry and whipping open my own bag of Cheetos. And something tells me that wearing shorts and bathing suits will curb my appetite a little.
But I also realize the thinking about it, the planning for it, even the worrying around it is part of the new me and part of the process. I HAVE learned something through this whole thing. I can't wander in to this situation with out preparing for it.
Because no plan is a recipe for failure.
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