Helmet? Check.
Head lamp? Check.
Harness? Check.
Belay? On.

Why the eff am I dressed like this?

Am I spelunking? (Spelunking is a great word that should be used more often. Spelunking. Spelunking. Spelunking.) Doubtful, as caves equal bats, and bats equal me having an all-out panic attack unless one of the bats turns into, like, Edward Cullen or something.

Mountain climbing? Negative. It’s all I can do to climb into my bed at night, let alone chalk up and go vertical.

Zip lining? While I do loves me a good zip line, I’m picturing Hugh Jackman mangling his pretty face while zip lining from the roof of the Sydney Opera House onto Oprah’s stage. I’ll pass.

No, I am attempting something much more dangerous, going somewhere few have gone and fewer have returned from. I am venturing into my fridge, people. If there’s no column next week, please send someone to check underneath the eggs. Thank you.

I used to pride myself on my fridge. It was clean. Organized. Spartan, even. People would comment on it. I was all, “Yeah … stop sweating my fridge. And, really, stop sweating my fridge. Close the door, would you? You’re wasting energy and the hummus is going to turn.” I now realize that they were not complimenting me on my fridge fabulousness, but commenting on its lack of contents. I had the essentials in there so that none of us would ever starve, but beyond that there wasn’t much going on. This was the root of many of my problems. No food in the fridge means throwing God-knows-what together for dinner … which sucked.

But now that I am a gourmet goddess, I have the opposite problem. I plan my meals on Sunday, hit the supermarket hard, and then try to wrestle everything into my fridge. I went from being able to see all of my items to having to wade through layer upon layer of ingredients. It’s a friggin’ jungle in there, but instead of plucking luscious, exotic fruits out of it, I’m unearthing hunks of moldy cheese from five weeks ago that I completely forgot about. I’m buying bushels of cilantro for recipes that call for one teaspoon, because that’s how cilantro is sold. A huge head of lettuce for the lettuce wraps that only require six leaves. Not only is this stuff obstructing my view, it ends up being so wasteful!

I wish there existed a store where I could purchase the things that I needed a la carte. On one trip I might buy one clove of garlic, one teaspoon of cumin, two eggs, one cup of shredded mozzarella, and one tablespoon of apple cider vinegar. Done and done. I’m out the door with exactly what I need and my fridge is none-the-more-crowded for it. If someone could look into opening such a store ASAP, it would be much appreciated. If this it too far-fetched, I’d like to hook up with like-minded and like-tastebudded pals with whom I can plan a week’s worth of meals and swap ingredients after we’re done with them. That way I’m not wasting food, my fridge remains clutter-free, and I can finally take off this headlamp.

Anyone interested in being my menu buddy?

What I Did This Week
I truly enjoyed my first full week back at the Newtown Athletic Club. Not only because I am finally getting some much-needed “me time,” but because I forgot how good I feel when I’m done working out. I hit up Jen’s 10:30 Zumba class on Sunday, which was packed with people shaking what their mama gave them. Good times. Lots of sweat. I’ve also been walking on the treadmill because I don’t run. Anywhere. Ever. Marathon runner that he is, my brother suggested that maybe running is something to aspire to while on this here journey. So I’m taking him up on his challenge and have decided to run a 5K in the spring. I’m now in need of three things:

1. A race. Philadelphians: Anyone running a 5K in the next few months? Which one?
2. A good running or Couch-to-5K-like training app. Do you recommend a great training app?
3. Running music. What are your favorite running tunes?

Comment below and I will keep you all in the loop as I train!

…………..

Robin Raskin blogs about her weight loss journey every Thursday on Be Well Philly. Catch up on the series here, and follow her on Twitter at @RobinRaskin.