is that hummus on my arse?

I just realized that I haven’t kept you, dear readers, updated on my Body-by-Glamour-destroy-my-lazy-and-gluttonous-ways affair (re: this post). Before I let you fool yourselves into thinking otherwise, this was completely intentional on my part. It’s been a bust. I think I kept with the program for approximately oh, a month, or say three to two-ish weeks, maybe. Now before you get all judgmental and squinty eyed and pointing fingers, just remember that I did warn you of the likelihood of this outcome. (And in my defense, I've been able to recommence my goals of sporting a teenage-boy body type simply by not caving to crazy emotional eating urges and by running and letting the wonders of yoga kick my ass.).

Ultimately I decided the whole B by G ordeal was too much effort, and I have much more important things to do… just take my word on that.

Another reason for the abandonment was that keeping track of calories made me think all the more about yummy food. And aside from that becoming quite annoying, it is, in fact, the opposite of ideal for weight loss. MSN concurs. See, they gathered all of their internet scientists* and came up with this article** that tells you how to think yourself skinny. For example, MSN specialists* report that skinny people take a care-free approach to eating and food – they just don’t really think about it and so their schedules are not contingent on where their next meal will come from. In dire contrast, chunkers think about food and eating constantly – whether they’re having too much, what’s good, what’s bad, too much fat, too sugary, too salty, not enough fiber, blah blah blah (Annoying already, eh?). The solution? Be care-free! Think like the skinny people and the world will finally be right!

Skinnies, again according to the authority* of MSN, take that same care-free approach and apply it to hunger. Stomach growling? Not a big deal! McDonalds is waiting right around the corner with a Big Mac to fulfill those familiar pangs. OK, so probably not the go-to answer for skinnies, but the point is that they know they’ll get fed at some point so it’s not imperative to address the rumbly in the tumbly right away. Chunkers, on the other hand, feel it necessary to rush to answer the stomach’s beck and call.

For example, that’s what happened to me after I went grocery shopping this evening. In all honesty, I went brownie and vanilla ice cream shopping because that’s what the stomach growls have been requesting ever since a certain hormonal rage reared its ugly head. However, upon entering the grocery store I was coerced into participating in the tangled web of marketing and bright packaging and so was forced to browse the aisles. And thank my lucky stars I did because, low and behold, hummus – ONE dollar (If you do not know, hummus typically costs 4ish dollars plus your firstborn, so this was quite the find.). You can bet I loaded up. And then I predictably had to pick up some pita bread for the delicious hummus and veggie sandwiches that follow this sort of discovery. Eventually I found the brownies and ice cream and made it out the door.

I was planning on running and yoga-ing once I got home, but I had to do a couple other errands first. Being the smart cookie that I am, I decided to gnaw on some pita and hummus whilst fulfilling these burdensome responsibilities. That way when I got home I wouldn’t be hungry, the food would be digested, and I would be able to slip into my running shoes and take off like a gazelle.

So I tore into the hummus and pita while driving around. Nyum nyum nyum.

I got to my office and ran in to retrieve some things when I noticed that the butt of my pants felt a bit moist. So I wiped my hand down my backside and what did I find? Why, a glob of hummus of course. If you haven't been acquanted with hummus, it is a creamy consistency and tan in color. So a glob of hummus may in some ways resemble a glob of yummy tan poo. On my ass. Hawt.

Now if I would’ve taken the MSN skinny approach I wouldn’t have felt the burning need to answer those nagging hunger pangs, as soon as possible, in my car while driving down the highway; and I would have successfully walked through the hallways without hummus on my arse. And maybe it would become a habit for me to be care-free about food and hunger, and I would one day be effortlessly thin. But then I wouldn’t have produced this awesome blog post, and you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to waste five minutes. Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me.

In case you were wondering, I also made the brownies this evening. And they were remarkable in all of their melted-ice-cream-and-brownie-goo glory. AND they were successful at chasing away the irrationally rageful lady hormones. Two points, brownies. Zero points, Body by Glamour and MSN experts*.

*If you haven't picked up on my sarcasm yet, I don't give much credit to the expertise of MSN articles.

**This article does actually have a few interesting points, though I can think of lots of people that don't fit their descriptions of skinnies and chunkers. Hmm...goes to show we weren't made from cookie cutters.

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…]