Oh, it was so, so, so hard to come home from Florida. I wore shorts there! Two days in a row! And sandals!
Okay, enough with the exclamation points. I really didn’t want to leave my dad, as much as I wanted to be home with my husband. And the snow. Did I mention it snowed in West Virginia?
Dad seems to be doing well, all in all, except for a seriously bad case of cellulitis on his lower left leg. Diabetes is a bitch, folks. He recommends you do everything you can while you’re young so you don’t develop it as you age.
But even though he’s doing well, it just kind of broke my heart to leave.
I was able to walk outdoors probably every other day on the whole trip, anywhere from four to six miles each time. I did well with the eating plan early on, but Dad and his wife – despite dietary recommendations – really eat pretty much what they want. I decided to take matters into my own hands one night and fixed my favorite chicken pesto pasta dish.
Dad made a pina colada cake one night – hello, sugar anyone? – and I ate some of it. He was so proud of himself and joked that he didn’t put any sugar in when he was making it. Um, it started with a yellow cake mix.
In spite of less-than-perfect eating and less-than-perfect exercising, I lost 2.5 pounds on the trip. Making a grand total of EIGHT POUNDS GONE the first month on South Beach.
Woo hoo for me!