I adore my trainer. She is awesome. Not only does she kick my ass in our workout sessions, she tolerates me. And by tolerates, I mean she doesn’t let me give her excuses. But she does let me have fun.

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.

My trainer made me a deal.

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?

Over the last few days my appetite has been insatiable. I can’t get enough food in my body.

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.