I have actually managed to exercise in one form or another pretty regularly for the last week... okay, 10 days. I want full credit. I had to skip Tuesday and Wednesday of last week because of obligations that made me late getting home from work, but 8 out of 10 days is nothing to sneeze at. And, by the way, I think I need new gym shoes.

I've ordered a special cable and downloaded (for free) some software that will enable me to hook my blood glucose meter up to my computer to regularly download my readings, so I don't have to write them down. More importantly, I suppose, is the fact that I've actually started regularly checking my blood sugar again. In all honesty, I have not had the want nor the desire to do it for quite some time now (and I'm not saying how long). If I have a chance while at work tomorrow, I'm going to call the 'new' doctor that I found on the insurance website...

Ugh.

Why is the thought of doing something for myself, of taking care of myself, so distasteful? Isn't that funny? I know you know the feeling I refer to. I want no part of medicine, or exercise, or eating right, or any of it. What I'd really like to do is just flip the double-barreled bird to whoever is looking, walk away and eat a bag of Mikesell's (local brand) Groovy potato chips with a tub of onion dip.

But instead, I did 30 minutes on the elliptical (after walking all day), and am heading off to a supper of mostly salad and one, maybe two, slices of pizza.

This just sucks...