What a long, strange trip it's been.

I tend to think in songs, so thank you Grateful Dead.  I've learned alot in the last 90 days.  Embrace the veggies, adore the fruits, think *truly think* about my food.  I've learned that I truly detest exercising in the cold, but love that my daughter often does this stuff with me.  I also love that she loves apples, grapes, clementines, and black-eyed peas.  My lower body is still kicking my upper body's booty (except the upper body doesn't have a booty).

I am deeply pleased to say that I fit nicely into a dress I wore to the opera when Ian and I were dating.  I am also pleased to say that to wear my pants without flashing unsuspecting bystanders, I must wear a belt.  I am displeased to say that I need a new wardrobe.  I loathe shopping.  My skin looks like it did when I turned 20 (which is to say, smooth and soft).  My teeth are whiter without the juice and Coke.

Coke is nasty, by the way.  Water is the bomb-diggity, yo.

To be honest, I can't say that I'll miss the whole of the PCP.  I'm happy to have my life back into a place where there is more flexibility and less pressure (I'm staring at you endless cooking, weighing, and packing).  But I can honestly say that I like the me that made it through.  I like how I look, I like how I feel.  I like that I have a top ten list of favorite varieties of apples and that really I'd rather have one of them than chocolate any time.  I love that there is a group of people scattered across the world who I share a unique bond with because of this experience.  I'll miss that.  I'll really, really miss that.

I have to cut this short because I'm falling asleep on the keyboard.  I don't know exactly when there will be pictures, but there will be pictures.  And a killer, black, floor-length opera dress will be among them