Facials are scary for kids.

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Question: Can you get me a glass of wine?

Answer: Absolutely.

Question: Want to cook me dinner?

Answer: Hell yeah.

Question: Want to help me with this project?

Answer: Yes.

Those are just some of the examples where an affirmative answer is the only one I want.

Well…

Yesterday I was in the middle of an amazing workout with my trainer and I asked a question.  I was on pike #14 when it happened. You know pikes? The horrific exercise where your hands are on the ground (like your doing a push up) and shins are on an exercise ball and you roll the ball to your feet while piking your butt up in the air making a “V” shape. It’s a killer core muscle workout. My trainer had me do a few sets of 20. I died.  Before my death, I asked a question. Mostly because my t-shirt was slipping towards my chin everytime I made the “V” shape. Side note: I was wearing t-shirt, yoga pants, sports bra and a standard g-string.

Question to trainer: Are my panties showing?

Hoping to hear an answer I normally don’t want to hear. Such as “NO!” or “not at all” or “you’re fine”.

Without skipping a beat, my trainer said “Yes!”

I fell off the ball. Tucked in my shirt. And pulled up my pants as high as I could on my waist. Then I finished my remaining 6 pikes.

All with a red face.

I hate pikes.

I emailed in sick from work. Yep, I did. I sent an email. It’s way more technologically advanced than using the phone and calling in sick.

They can easily survive with me. I’ve got the best staff ever!

Worst part about this cold…it comes with an insatiable appetite. I ate an entire bag of Cheetos on Saturday night. I know, it’s an exciting life I live.

Worst part about being home today…my housekeeper is at my house today. Listen to her talk radio show. Really loud. I may have to drown it out with the sound of daytime tv up in my bedroom. Which will be another reason to make being home today suck more.

Anyhow, I must end this post and check my work emails. I have to make sure nobody else emailed in sick and left me with work to do from my lap top. In bed.

P.S. I realize after several failed jokes over IM this morning and after rereading this post, my sick funny isn’t actually funny. I apologize and appreciate your readership in the good times and the bad.

At our last training session, she tossed me the elastic band as she walked over to get some hand weights. I quickly put the band on and waited for her to return.

She returned. She rolled her eyes. She waited while I took this picture. I needed a break.  (Yes, I know this picture is hideous. Hell I was sweating my ass off for 45 minutes at this point.)

Then she made me take the elastic band off my head and put it on correctly. For those of you who don’t know, this is how it works.

Again forgive me for the quality of these pictures. I was super rushed. That’s what happens when you stall on a trainer.

She handed me the weights. You know so I could hold them over my head as I did side steps from one side of the gym to the other. Twice.

Once again my trainer got her way. My ass will thank her later.

Deal: which one of us can log in more cardio from December 15th – January 15th

At risk: a $50 bottle of wine

Expectations: trainer plans to do 5 hours every week. (I committed to one hour every week figuring it would lower her expectations and make her feel like I’m not competition.)

Rules:

1. minimum time we can log is 10 minutes
2. heart rate must get to 140, or maybe that’s the number of characters allowed in a tweet. All I know is that I shouldn’t be able to carry on a normal conversation because I’m panting so hard.
3. trainer will text me every time she gets her cardio done

Update: I got a text today, she did 30 minutes of cardio. I did 0. Yep, that’s a zero. A big fat nothing.

One day into the competition, I feel defeated.

On another note, I’m looking for a fabulous $50 bottle of wine to buy. Recommendations?

But…

Helping people get skinny by showing them my boobs? I had no idea I had that kind of power!

Apparently starting at boobs is as good as working out. A study was done. Here’s the article to prove it.

I know men like to look at boobs. I have also known a handful of men who don’t. Funny, those men are all fat. But they know my eyes are brown.

Once the news of this study gets out, I can see the world changing. Men will put on their running shoes and then sit on the couch and ask us women to show them some cleavage. Some men may even get really bold by canceling their gym memberships in return for us fondling our breasts. Ladies, we have some work to do.

I’m okay with this. I may even try it myself. Not sure my trainer will buy into this idea. But I may say, “Sorry trainer, I didn’t do my cardio in the traditional way this week. I just stood in front of the mirror and rolled these babies around.”

Here I am. Still helping people. Two boobs at a time.

And since my boobs are helping people, that probably means that they are tax deductible. Like a charity. I better wear something low cut when I drop off my 2009 tax paperwork to my accountant. And include the bill for my boobs.

I love bananas. If I could make it to the grocery store more often and keep these yellow things stocked in my house, I’d probably eat one everyday. But I learned the real reason my body craves them.

It’s a cure. For a hangover.

Photo provided by the HowStuffWorks website.

Eating bananas the morning after a night of heavy drinking provides lost electrolytes like any food would, but it also specifically replenishes the potassium lost to alcohol’s diuretic effect. Other potassium-rich foods such as kiwi fruit or sports drinks work just as well.

The above insert was found on an online article titled, How Hangovers Work (full article). Helpful tidbits for you drinkers. Really helpful.

Here’s my dilemma. The picture below illustrates precisely the reason this cure is awkward or uncomforable.

Quite frankly eating bananas resembles something else…

Photo provided by Porn SFW

Scroll through the website if you’re into that stuff. And yes, it is safe for work. It’s a site that “cleans up” porn shots and it may make you laugh.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

For years I have been getting waxed. I’m obsessed with body hair. My own, not the hair on other people. What’s weird…I’m not really hairy. But I’m obsessed nonetheless.

Sure I could get laser treatments to get rid of my hair, but I haven’t done it yet. Mostly because I’d miss my waxer, of 6 years, dearly. She’s a doll and I’d miss our visits every five weeks.  Of course, I’ve hung out with her outside of the salon. She’s just that awesome.

But before I met her, I had a few mishaps with my waxings. Here’s my best memory. And by best I mean most awkward.

I’m not modest. I don’t mind baring all. Years ago I’d go to a salon for my waxings, sometimes as a walk in, and I was okay to get a new waxer. On one particular visit, I got a new girl. Here’s how the conversation went:

Waxer: Hi, what are we doing for you today?

Me: Waxing…Brazilian, arms, brow.

Waxer: Great. Let’s start with the brazilian. Do you want it all off?

Me: Uhm, yes. Thanks. [Brazilian waxes, for those who don't know, are basically a bikini wax meant to remove every damn hair down there (unless you want a little landing strip). From the front to the back...all gone.]

Waxer: Let me know if the wax gets too hot. {going to town down there removing all my hair}

Me: Temperature is fine. Thanks.

Waxer: Alright, I need to get to the backside now. Do you mind getting in a position to make this simple?

Me: Not at all. What position?

Waxer: Can you prop yourself up on your hands and knees?

Me: Oh, okay. I’ve never done that before. At least not for a waxing. {laughing}

Waxer: Oh really? It makes it really easy to remove….

Me: {Reminder: I’m on the table, ass in her face, in a doggie style position} *thinking I’m starring in a porn or a hidden camera show and don’t know it*

Awkward moments. That is one on the top of my list.

Needless to say, I didn’t return to this salon. Seriously, waxers don’t make you get into a doggie style position to pull out your hair. There are all sorts of ways of getting this backside hair, like holding your leg in the air or even flipping on your side.

I’m hoping I can change the world one waxing at a time and remind new waxers that this is NOT the way to do it. Again, I’m not shy. Or modest. And this was hell.

Have you ever been put in a compromising position?

For example, I’ll eat a full meal. Then I’ll let some time pass. And by time, I mean minutes, like under an hour. Then I’m ready to feast again. Holy fuck. I’m going to be as wide as I am tall pretty soon.

I’m convinced I”m going through a growth spurt. That’s really the only explanation I have for eating this way. Sadly, the growth spurt is likely associated with the size of my ass. It’ll grow. Trust me.

Here’s how I’m coping with my increased appetite:

• First, I’m only eating candy that is for individual sale. You know, like Halloween candy that has only 4 Milk Duds in a package. These candies don’t list any nutritional information on the package. Nope. None. Therefore, I don’t think they have enough calories to count. I LOVE HEALTHY CANDY!
• Next, I’m not skipping meals anymore. They say you should eat several meals everyday to keep your metabolism up. Well, let me tell you….I’m eating several FULL meals everyday. My appetite will force me to eat more often therefore causing me to increase my metabolism and become effortlessly skinny.
• I’m skipping training sessions with my trainer. When this happens I still pay her. Therefore, I’m finding myself with less money in my pocket to spend on food. Oh fuck it. This isn’t working. I don’t budget. This tactic only causes me to have less money but more free time. Hey, time is money. Therefore this plan is good for my pocketbook in the end.

So here’s to an increased appetite. I gotta run. There are Cheetos in my desk drawer that are calling my name.

Dear trainer: if you read this…Rob gave me the Cheetos. He probably forced me to eat them too. And the Halloween candy really didn’t have nutritional values listed which explains whey they won’t show up on my food log.

Well, she didn’t say die but she did mention osteoporosis. And being all bent over because your bones won’t stand up is as bad as being dead. Nobody likes bad posture, it is just not slimming.

She told me I need more calcium in my diet. I defended myself by saying that’s why I order cheese on my burger. She rolled her eyes.

She told me I need to work out more. I rolled my eyes and explained how exhausting it was already to do a few days each week with her. She agreed (that I’m exhausting!).

She told me that my calorie intake is perfect BUT 30% of my calories are super bad and come from wine and alcohol. I reminded her that I skip dinner in order to accomplish this. She should be proud, right?

She told me to quit complaining and just do the work out. I told her I was bored. She is meeting me at the park today, instead of the gym, to change our scenery.

My trainer has driven me to: stand up straight, order cheese on my burgers, work out only when I’m with her, skip dinner and drink alcohol, go to the park.

She’s the best driver in my life!

Stresser: Subsequent Upside

Boobs seemed to have grown a size overnight causing my standard black dress to be snug on top: Makes my waist look super tiny.

Forgot to eat breakfast: Eating Cheetos for breakfast totally guilt free. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and that’s all I had in my office.

Rush to get out the door today: See above upside.

My to-do list at work is HUGE and growing: I have a job.

Need to respond to an email my ex sent me: He’s my ex.

I have a business lunch I’m not prepared for: It’s an expensed lunch.

Cancelled my session with my trainer tonight: Booked a 90 minute massage instead.

My feet hurt in my heels as soon as I put them on, but only when I walk: I have feet and I can walk (yay, two upsides!).

Worried that eating all these Cheetos will make me fat: I can blame the person who gave them to me as a gift. And call him a bastard for making me fat.

Enough. I’ve go plenty to be happy about. If I keep telling myself that, my mood will change, right? Maybe I’ll just quietly get through the day and come back tomorrow all fucking happy.

Carry on with your day people. Hugs and love and all that shit!

Trainer: [yelling in my face] You only have a 16 more reps. Hold in your abs. Don’t lean back so far. [Then switched to sweet voice] Hey, I wanted to ask you something. Can you do me a favor?

Me: [breathless] Uhm, yes only if you make this pain stop.

Trainer: Nope, only 14 more to go.

Me: Does the favor involve me making our 1 hour sessions longer? If so, not a chance.

Trainer: No. [Her eyes roll back, probably at the thought of spending more time with me] Seriously though. Can you keep a food/drink log for 4 weeks? I’d like to use you as a case study in the college class I teach.

Me: A case study? Really? Are you thinking I’m super healthy and want to teach your students the ideal way their clients should live?

Trainer: Nine more. Chin up. Uh, no. I want them to evaluate your eating and drinking habits. And I know you’ll be honest.

Me: What’s in it for me?

Trainer: A full report and evaluation.

Me: Fuck. Sure.

I’m not a victim here.  I realize I agreed to this. But keeping a food and drink log is a giant pain in the ass. This includes itemizing all ingredients in the food I eat. I eat at restaurants all the time which makes this tricky. Plus, I have to own up to every ounce of wine I drink. And since I feature a weekly post on my blog for Wino Wednesday, I’m forced to drink so I have experiences that I blog about. Basically I drink for you.

Well, I did it. I did the favor for my trainer. I was hoping she’d hand over a pill to make me super toned. But she didn’t.

She told me that her class had a chance to review my log but she forgot to bring my report. Being impatient, I asked for a summary…

The general feedback: I drink too much [to meet the goals I set for myself, blah blah blah] and I need more vitamin D.

If I listen to them, I be forced to be SOBER and forced to sit in the sun for 20 minutes everyday. Fuck, they are students. What do they know? Nothing. Except they want me to die from cancer. The sun is dangerous. Skin cancer kills. And if I’m going to die that way, I want to be wasted drunk. All the time.

Dumb students.

Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. I’m practically being forced to do this. But it’s for my health!

Everyone knows that red wine is good for you. Experts have even confirmed this. I’d reference it here, but I’m too lazy to find it in the medical journals right now. Unfortunately, I primarily drink white wine. Until now. Remember, I’m all about health.

In food news, chocolate contains things that are good for you too. Sure, they say it’s in dark chocolate. I prefer milk chocolate. I’m sure milk chocolate provides all the same healthy vitamins and nutrients, just in a lighter color.

So in the name of health, I am starting a new ritual…an evening health break. It will involve a small glass of red wine and a square of milk chocolate.

I’m thinking I need to do this every night. And if all goes as planned, I may be running a marathon before the end of the year. Wine Spectator confirms that people who drink are healthier, more physically fit and can run a marathon just from tipping a bottle. Proof is here. Okay, so I didn’t really read the entire article. I read the title and guessed at the rest.

What things do you do to stay healthy? And don’t give me the typical “I exercise and eat right” bullshit. I want real life tips to follow.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine related stories.

Why is it that when I’m busy, I’m super busy?

And it is usually self imposed. In fact, I just added more to my plate. And I figured out why I do this…

It’s because sometimes a healthy amount of stress allows you to drop a few pounds without even noticing. I’ve been through a divorce. I wouldn’t suggest that route, although I did drop any extra weight I had on me along with oodles of money (thank you divorce attorney…hope your kids enjoy Harvard since I paid for it).

So here’s to me getting through this week and weighing a few pounds less in the end. Don’t get me wrong. I intend to indulge in food and drinks every chance I get. That’s how this stress shit works.

As it turns out, Sarah is the only reason I did it. That bitch better feel special. I didn’t train at all.

Except the night before the 5K. I did some prep and training then. Specifically the carb loading technique that runners do.

Just to be clear, vodka and greasy bar food are carbs. Right? I sure as hell hope so. I needed to catch up on my training and really focus the night before. Shit, I want to win. And by win, I mean finish without throwing up.

And they are serving bagels, fruit and ice cream afterwards. It appears that athletes need to carb load afterwards too. I’m all about doing this training right.

So here’s to competitive 5K training and a doing it with good friends.