Round Up of Week 3 Highlights!
Well then.  What an "exciting" week its been on the Get Lean and LoopyLiscious Challenge.  And, as the clock ticks down to the Next Milestone, its time to review the highs, lows and blows (no, not that kind) of the Week That Was.

Highs:
OK. So. I hopped off the Vodka Truck, clambered back onto the Wine Wagon and hitched that carriage to the Sobriety Train for the duration of this crazy-assed quest for glory.  So far, so good - I even found myself (with a quiet sob) pouring left-over wine DOWN THE SINK from an event I hosted at my place last night.  Crikey.

The Snooze Button Embargo remains intact.  And its really quite interesting to force yourself to get up literally seconds after you are woken from deep sleep by your alarm clock.  I'm pretty much still asleep but up and moving and operating kitchen appliances.  I feel I'm getting a hidden peek into the world of the Chronic Sleepwalker*.  Or at least exploring a hitherto neglected part of my REM cycle (no, Loopy - not the band..)

Realizing I was not the worst co-ordinated person in the room on Zumba Zombie Sunday.  A revelation.

A triumphant use of a Prince Pass for a fabulous dinner out with Sarah which included some very tasty scoffage (which I didnt eat all of, again - well done me) as well as a perfectly chilled glass of rose champagne.  One thing that being on the Sobriety Truck does for you is that it really makes you appreciate your wine.

Wait.  There's something not quite right with that previous sentence.  Hmm.... oh, sod it... I'll figure it out later.

Lows:
Obviously the initial miss of last week's target was a deep disappointment.  The Occupy Movement really do have a point - its that bloody 1% that causes all the problems.

Another low point was realizing that my Zumba Zombie Sunday realization was ill-realized and that i, indeed, remained the Black Hole of Rhythm, a Dark Star of Dexterity, inexorably sucking in any facsimile of co-ordinated movement and instead leaving a gaping chasm of confusion, chronic left-footedness and Dad-dancing.

Feeling like a contestant in The Biggest Loser as I huffed and puffed my way around the block with my new trainer tonight who MADE ME RUN.  WTF?  I'm sorry - is it Week 8 and Run Week! yet??  Did you not read the schedule, lady?   It's bad enough that this week seems to have morphed from Bounce Week! to Holy Shit My Calves Hurt Week!    Geez.

Blows:
The slowly sinking feeling that Zumba did not, as yet, represent the zenith of my potential Dance Class in Public trauma.  That honor will belong to Bollywood.

Soooo..... as I balance my computer on my personal chub ledge (or "stomach" to those of you who may be blessed with flatter abs than I) as I type this, my thoughts turn towards tomorrow and I wonder whether i, like Andy Murray, may finally taste the sweetness of victory in this long and arduous struggle.  Other than one single Prince Pass, I have been FULLY Slacker Tracker compliant this week, have exercised my arse off (not literally, though - that would make it even harder to walk than it already is), so I will be rightly PISSED OFF IN THE EXTREME if I don't make the target this week.

The Potato of Destiny and Despair has gleefully stuffed himself with all the new forfeits and is sitting waiting to roll into action.  I think he's got it in for me.

In just a few short hours, all will be revealed....

* Luke's lesser known brother who didn't quite make the cut at auditions cos he was always napping on the job