Monday, May 24, 2010

Never fly with PMS

I'm here. I have something to say. I'm sure of it. I just have no idea precisely what it is I am here to say. Let's ramble...

I cut my hair off last week. To just below my chin. I left the salon feeling really, really great about my hair and how cute and sassy it looked. I felt younger. And thinner. And then I showed off my awesome new haircut to my husband. Who said, "I like your hair long."

Wind. Sails. Pffftttt.....

My hair is no longer a valid topic of conversation at our house. Ever. In fact, I am thisclose to paying homage to Batshit Crazy Britney and shaving my head. Then I suppose I'll have to get a rapper wannabe baby daddy and a really good umbrella. It might be more work than it is worth.

Bah. I suppose I'll keep the hair I have left.

Summer is supposedly coming soon, but you couldn't tell by all the snow we've been getting. The next person to utter the words "Global Warming" is going to find themselves abruptly seated on their ass via the back of my hand across their cheek. I mean it, too. I have PMS this week and that means I am legally absolved of any and all responsibility for both verbal and physical attacks on stupid, insufferable people.

What else...hmmmm...what to talk about...AHA! Airlines! We'll talk about airlines! Let's specifically talk about Alaska Airlines and their fees for bags. Granted, I am sure they are not alone in their attempts to alienate all airline travelers everywhere, but they are the airline I am forced to fly most often so I shall pick on them. I'm mean like that.

They are charging $15 to check a bag. Not your second bag or your third bag, but the first and only bag you wish to check. Here's how they get you - I am convinced it is totally sexist, but can't prove it yet - they force you to fit all of your toiletries into a quart sized ziploc bag and if you can't manage this logistical feat of sorcery you have to either throw said toiletries away or check the bag. THEN...since they know us women aren't about to throw away a half-empty tube of our favorite face cream that cost a bloody fortune...they charge you $15 for the bag. WHO TRAVELS WITHOUT TOILETRIES? Seriously? WHO? Well, actually, I think I may have sat next to that guy once or twice, but that is beside the point.

I have an idea for all the airline thieves who come up with these ridiculous charges - how about you start charging for the seatbelt? How about it? It's required that we wear them so why don't you just go ahead and start charging us a fee for seatbelt usage and for maximum impact go ahead and charge by the minute. Alrighty?

Freakin' bastards. I'm just sayin'.

However, I must say, Airline People, those little cookie thingies you serve are divine. I had two packages. Not cause I wanted them, but because I wanted you to have to give them to me Mr. Smiling Flight Attendant... a flight attendant who is clearly a robot given the fact you never, ever stop was kind of creepy now that I think about it...what WERE you smiling about anyway?

I suppose I don't really want to know. I would, however, like some more of those cookies...

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Hurry up and order your Ab Shake Gazelle!!!

Exactly how many diets are out there? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Or, millions? I am putting my money, and my cellulite, on millions. I am truly amazed, and not just a little frightened, with how many different ideas and versions of how to lose weight you can find. One little Google search and you'll see what I mean.

I have been trying to lose weight for what seems like forever and I have reached out on more than one occasion to "experts." I have been told to eat more. Eat less. Only eat this. Never eat that. I have had a lot of people telling me lately to eat six or seven times a day and I'll magically lose pounds seemingly overnight. However, anorexics never eat and look how skinny they are. OK..I'll admit...bad comparison, but my point is no matter what someone tells you there is someone doing the exact opposite and getting fabulous weightloss results.

I am not a great dieter...I'll admit this. I enjoy eating what I like. My theory? This is life. None of us is getting out alive so we might as well enjoy ourselves, right? Now, don't get me wrong. I don't sit around and eat bags of cookies and drink a two liter of Pepsi every day. I actually eat relatively conservatively. Case in point: dinner last night was 4 oz of chicken breast, 2 cups of steamed broccoli and half a cup of macaroni and cheese (gotta keep the 7 year old happy). I drank a shit ton of water yesterday and I had no soft drinks. Today I have had some yogurt, some coffee with a bit of fat free creamer and a handful of Cap'n Crunch (gotta keep the inner 7 year old happy). I have an apple, peanut butter, a cheese stick and a Luna bar awaiting consumption. There is nary a Snicker's bar on the menu and yet I still cart around enough ass for me and all my friends. I swear I look in the mirror and see the robot Aunt Fanny from the movie Robots.

I just wonder when someone is going to clear up all the confusion. Do I eat meat? Don't eat meat? Sugar? No sugar? Bread? No bread? Are eggs good or bad? How often do I exercise? 30 minutes three times a week, right? Wrong. You need to work out, cardio only every day for an hour. And, on the second full moon of the year you hop one foot from noon until 2 and then turn in four circles and eat a loaf of bread with mayonaise and cayenne pepper.

ARGH!!! It is so confusing and so frustrating. It really is no wonder our society is obese. All these evil fitness people are out there cramming the latest Ab Roller, Sauna Belt, Gazelle, and my personal favorite, the Shake Weight, down our throats trying to convince us that withabsolutely no effort whatsoever (!) we will all have six pack abs! Just send 87 payments of $19.95 and you will be beach ready the moment the UPS guy delivers the box! Hurray!!

I guess I will just keep plugging away. I enjoy the fitness classes I am in and that keeps me going every week. I guess I just need to learn to accept my body as it is. I need to learn to be nice to it and maybe it will thank me by slimming down.

But, just to be safe, I should probably order a Shake Weight.

As an aside: I want to point out that in what has to be the best example of irony EVER -- the current ad displayed on this blog is for the South Beach Diet. I'm just sayin'.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Burpees = Death

It isn't all that often I sit down and whine. Well...not too often...I mean, I don't do it every day. Seriously. I don't. Really. OK...maybe sort of often.

Damn. I hate this self-awareness crap. I prefer to be blissfully unaware of my faults. Same way I prefer to be blissfully unaware of the number of calories in a Snickers bar; but, I digress.

My original point was to whine...let's get on with it...

Those of you who know me are aware of the fact that I have really, really bad knees. Knees that make it abundantly clear the level of disdain they possess for the weight and girth of the ass they are required to support each time I heft myself from a seated position. Knees that have been through one surgery each and possess scars and screws and, if that wasn't quite enough thankyouverymuch, are arthritic. Oh yeah - and for the record - I am only 35. And have arthritis. 35. Arthritis.

Yeah. It sucks.

Anyway, last night I finally made it back to tae-kwon-do and Crossfit after two weeks away. I would think Matt, our fabulous instructor, would take it easy on me and ease me back into things. I would think wrong. Frankly? I think he decided torture was an appropriate way to ensure I think twice the next time I decide to go out of town for work. Or get sick. You know what? I am most certainly thinking. I am sure my new boss will understand when I tell her I can't fly down to San Jose because Matt will take it out of my hide in sweat as soon as I return. Right? Stephanie?

Anyway, here is the Crossfit workout from last night. Don't let the simplicity fool you. It sucks ass. HARD.

21 - 15 - 9
(I do believe the numbers are arbitrary and selected just for maximum frustration. Have you ever tried to stop counting at an odd number when your brain isn't working due to lack of oxygen? Harder. Than. You. Think.)

So - you do 21 chin-ups, 21 burpees (here is a link for those of you who are wondering what in Hades a burpee is) and 21 of these things where you throw a medicine ball at the wall with one arm from several feet away. It has a name, but I'll be damned if I can remember it. If you survive doing that you start over and do it again 15 times and then 9 times.

What does all this have to do with the whining and the knees? Well, it is the reason I was both unable to walk and unable to sleep last night. My knees were ON FIRE thanks to those burpees. Eric offered to buy me a motorized scooter. I was thisclose to finding an infomercial for the Little Rascal and taking him up on it. Instead I took a poorly timed sleeping pill and went to bed. I am so groggy today that I could feed coffee directly into a vein and I would still be half asleep.

On a more serious note -- I am having a hell of a time staying motivated to work out. All I seem to get is pain. I have more muscle than I have had in years, but my weight isn't going down and that was the whole point because I have to get weight off to get my knees to quit with all the bitching. I am not wearing smaller clothes. I still don't look good naked. Seriously? Bulimia is starting to look appealing.