Body by Glamour, Body for Me

I’ve found myself in a slump. OK, let’s be honest, this is not a new slump. This is a slump 2, 3-ish years in the making. And, ok, maybe it’s not a slump. Maybe it’s a crater or a canyon, scaled by mighty cliffs.

Anyways, I’m down. Call me a victim of grad school, being lost by the wayside, directionless-ness, binge eating, alcohol drinking, and stress sleeping. All in all, a good experience made better by good habits.

But I’m ready to get out now. To be realistic, on the scale of real-people-contributing-to-society, my slump would prob be classified grade A ditch, max. Perhaps a ditch deepening w/ each spoonful of ice cream but regardless, only a ditch. So, don’t get your hopes up, my tactics for removing myself from it won’t be too severe. No reason to let it deepen further though, bring on the 7 dwarves, let’s whistle while we work, hand me the hammer and nails, we’re building a ladder out of here.

First strike: binge eating and lethargy.
Weapon: Body by Glamour (BBG).

Le sigh.

This is a very sad confession for me. You may not understand if you don’t know me; but I used to find smug satisfaction in being a fairly fit individual, having muscle and litheness for no reason at all. Not for any sporting activity, as coordination is one of those skills where the critical age for development passed me by. Not for photos, as I’ve also failed to develop any grand photogenic qualities. Regardless of the reasons for my past eagerness to assume the body of a 16-year old boy, I always scoffed at work-outs in magazines such as Glamour or Cosmo or anything lacking a cover featuring a well-oiled and photo-shopped individual pretending to sweat.

However, given my present wimpy state, I think it appropriate that I come off my high horse and turn to these devices I long neglected for (fingers crossed) a radical change in my physique. Plus, BBG looks fairly all-inclusive (exercises + nutrition tips + sufficiently annoying motivation from Jillian Michaels (aka Biggest Loser guru (She’s the one w/ the ferocious eyebrows.))) and is free.

Now for those of you rubbing your hands together in anxious excitement, eyes wide with anticipation, and for those of you w/ mule-like willpower, who, upon setting your mind on something, soldier on w/ disgusting fervor until your goal is mounted upon your wall, thinking that you will cheer me on and provide me with the necessary motivation for whipping this ass into shape – allow me to forewarn you: I suck at all tasks concerning the annihilation of deep-rooted habits.

Exhibit A: Last year I decided to become vegetarian for moral purposes.  Later that year, I vacationed w/ S.O. (Significant Other) to England in the summer and decided to allow for a hiatus in my vegetarianism long enough to enjoy the cheeses and sausages that accompanied afternoon tea.  Back in the States, however, Veggie Me was back on.  That is, until one haunting weekend with a family BBQ. Let’s just say that after the BBQ disbanded (where I successfully remained vegetarian) many cocktails and much debauchery followed. I returned home, a bit off my senses, to ravage a refrigerator full of leftover bratwursts  and hamburgers and tartar sauce. I’ll spare you the details; it wasn’t pretty. Suffice it to say, Vegetarian Me soon retired.

Exhibit B, C, D,…, ∞: All of the eating habit overhauls I have tried to instill upon myself in the past few years. Fail, fail, and fail.

What can I say? I like to eat; which was never a problem until I decided to deal with my current loathsome situation (you know, that of being privileged enough to gain higher education) by becoming a lethargic mess of lazy.

But it all stops here. I will graduate soon and I don’t want my induction into society to be one for a lethargic mess of lazy. Posts of my experience may follow (Using “may” allows for a bit of a cushion in the department of me not actually following through, but not having my failure blatantly exposed here because I did only say I may post.). I’ve even considered including some awesome “Before” photos like in Glamour magazine, where the woman is standing in an unflattering stance in an unflattering bathing suit; but that's doubtful, as it would involve me throwing all pride to the wind. [Tangent: Isn’t it curious that the “After” photo is always the woman in a flattering black dress, hair and make-up exquisite, one-foot forward to best accentuate her curves? Hmmm…]