A tale of a Sunday Funday Adventure in which I almost needed to be bailed out of jail for beating some chick’s ass.

Dig it.

Two galpals and I went to the Live Healthy and Be Well Expo this weekend. Look, don’t lecture me about my wild ways.  I’ll settle down when I’m good and damn ready.  That’s just how we roll.

Anyhoo, the expo was real small. I mean rull small, ya’ll. Just a few booths, and I think we passed them all in about 15 minutes. I was expecting a lot of healthcare companies and people trying to give away Shakeweights and Firm DVD’s and such… nawl.  All I saw was a bunch of people trying to schlep their weight loss wares. Fiber this, fruit that, pills, pills, pills. Ya’ll know I hate pills, right? There was some kind of cardio Tai chi demonstration that was cool.

So we’re walking down what is a very short aisle. A few people are milling around us. We passed a booth and this woman  flags us down.  We can’t really avoid her, so we head on over.

“I’m gonna tell ya’ll something,” she said. “Gonna give you some tips for free.” We’re standing there with her card and a brochure and she says, like this is some big f*cking secret, “start eating whole grains. You guys need to eat whole grains and eat healthier. Now, my products…”

I interrupted her and said, “But how do you know I don’t?”

She points to us– boob-a-licious was the name of the game, yesterday– our chest and hips and motions some gestures that I guess mean ‘our whole bodies’,  then she nods and says, “I can tell. You need to eat more whole grains.”

I said, “But you don’t know that I don’t. You didn’t even ask.” She starts to explain away and I said, “No. I’m done, here.” And I walk away. Rude, yes but she pissed me off.

As I’m walking, she says, “well, have a great day and smile!” I wanted to turn around and tell her “f*ck you” but didn’t. I did tell her that she wouldn’t get many customers by flagging down the fat ones and giving lectures without asking what people’s eating habits were FIRST. “You don’t KNOW me,” I said. She laughed.

Later, as the expo was rather small, we’d pass her booth a few times and she’d see me, point and laugh. I thought, “B*tch, I’m glad you think it’s funny. It’s just not.”

My friend T asked me something, about her, and I said, “She has no clue that I eat sugar free, no flour, no starch, and have dropped 30 lbs. She doesn’t know you dropped 15 lbs in the last month. She doesn’t know M has dropped 60 lbs in the last year. B*tch didn’t even ask- she saw some fat girls and just assumed that we don’t eat healthy.  She can kiss my ass.”

It reminds me of a complaint that one of my friends – we call her Purple- said. She recently had gastric bypass surgery and is working her way down from almost 400 lbs. She has lost over 100 lbs recently. Is looking and feeling great… but people look at her and all they see is the fat. They don’t see the struggle. They don’t see the progress. They look and they assume. They try to offer advice. They point and laugh. Every ounce of pride one has in attaining any kind of success pales in comparison to what other people still see– the work that has yet to be done.

M said that she gets a lot of people giving her exercise advice. “Really,” she responds. “Where were you this morning when I was out doing a practice run for the Peachtree Road Race? Or last night, when I went out for 9pm 3mile run? Want to talk to me some more about exercise?”

This is the kind of thing that makes me see red. Being smaller does not make you healthier. My fat doesn’t mean I don’t eat well and get daily exercise. I don’t encounter this a lot, but I do encounter it, and each time,  it makes me want to scream– namely because I know very thin people who can’t spell gym, eat junk all day, drink all night and smoke like chimneys. Go give THEM advice about whole grains. Go ask THEM if they need some exercise advice.

I know these people think they’re helping. Here’s a PSA, Newsflash, High level Security Briefing- YOU’RE NOT.

I’ve been doing the Firm, The Shred, and Cardio Barre. I will use my muscles to knock you the f*ck out.

Not that I want to get back into doing confessions (because I got less confession-y and more rant-y as time went on, and we don’t like rant-y) but sometimes I have shockingly honest moments that I share with random people. And I just figure… why not torture the rest of the world with them? So here we go, a little something I want to call “If I’m being honest…”

If I’m being honest, I get paid too much for what I do but if I had to take a pay cut I’d be pissed.

If I’m being honest, I know a lot of fully grown 3 year olds. Lots of temper tantrums and passive aggression that you wouldn’t think you’d see from adults.

If I’m being honest, I’m better at some things than I think I am but not as good as some people tout me to be. I’ll take it, though because I like msiguidedness when it works in my favor.

If I’m being honest, The Biggest Loser doesn’t really motivate or inspire me. I think the contestants are awesomely fabulous and I love what they’ve done. Watching an episode doesn’t make me want to go out and run a mile.

If I’m being honest, I almost stalk Weight Loss Surgery patients, not because I am jealous and wish I could have it (channeling Whitney: Hell to the naw!) but because I KNOW they’re losing weight and I am interested in how they deal with certain issues as the pounds come off. I get frustrated watching friends bounce from plan to plan, losing the same ten pounds over and over and then deciding to eat a plate of cookies. None of that helps me at all. Though I am jealous that 8 years post surgery, my mom has started dropping weight again for no reason. I’ll be seeing her in September and if I’m being honest I so don’t want to look bad next to her.

If I’m being honest, I try to talk myself out of walking every day, but in the end I just can’t not walk.  I hope that means this is a habit.

If I’m being honest I feel guilty for being upset about something and then I found out some bad news regarding the person I was upset with. Ech. Just goes to show that I’m not really a nice person.

If I’m being honest, I don’t get calling daycare ‘school’. If your child is 2 yrs old s/he goes to daycare. On that…

If I’m being honest I think ‘graduating’ from every grade level is a little like every kid on the soccer team getting a trophy. By the time the kid gets to high school, graduating will have lost its luster. It’s just another ceremony. We don’t all win all the time. Every time you accomplish something there isn’t a band and pomp and circumstance. I feel like kids grow up wanting a parade for doing things they’re supposed to do, which translates into fully grown 3 year old adults.

SIGH….. I guess that’s all I have to be honest about, today. What are you honest about today, Blog People?

[Boys, look away. AWAY I SAY!]

So, yesterday in my Post Lunch Internet Dinking Around time (don’t try to steal that title, it’s mine), I came upon the following headline from my google news gadget. Curious, I clicked on the link and was instantly horrified. Gaze upon it.:

Kim and Khloe Kardashian Get Real about their periods in new ad campaign
By Vicky Allison Apr 19, 2010, 18:20 GMT

Kim and Khloe Kardashian and their mum, Kris Jenner, speak out about their periods in a new TV advert.
The trio talk openly about their periods in a bid to break down the barriers surrounding the taboo subject of menstruation in U by Kotex’s new Break The Cycle ad campaign.
Khloe took to her blog to write about the experience.
She wrote: ‘Kim and I were both with [brother] Rob when we first got our periods… it probably scarred him for life!
‘He can pretty much handle anything now – he’s totally going to be that husband buying tampons for his wife.’
The Keeping Up With The Kardashians star, 25, added: ‘I [was] so excited to participate with Kim and my mum in a series of videos called ‘Getting Real’ with U by Kotex.
‘We answered girls’ questions about their periods, and shared some fun personal experiences of our own.’

Can I vote? Can I have a say? Can I speak my mind? I VOTE NO. No like…. well… if I was CorporateBarbie I would have a slew of witty ‘I Vote NO like…’ statements but I can’t think of any. Come back later.

See, here is the thing…..SOME THINGS NEED TO STAY TABOO. I do not want an open discussion led by Kim and Khloe Kardashian and their mom about my body’s menstrual cycle! I don’t (nor should any young girl) have any questions that Kim could answer for me. Do you know know any MOMS/nurses/doctors/health teachers/ Sunday school teachers/role models that you could ask said questions to, instead of a complete (and very famous) stranger? For all we know she sits upon a cloud of the world’s finest cotton and is medicated to the hilt so that she feels no cramps or tummy rumbles.For all we know, Kim pays people to be on her cycle for her.

Now, I know that’s just ridiculous (because if it could happen, I’d be all over that, even though my cycle is not a huge deal at all and I only know it’s coming because I want to have sex with everything/one/object in the general vicinity) but come on.  If, granted, we DO need an open dialog about our periods, do we need it from Kim K? Will she have the unemotional, bored face she wore on that hideously boring waste of 15 minutes sex tape? Because if so, I’m just not likely to take any words of advice on… anything from Kim K.

Don’t get me wrong. She’s a pretty girl. And she does………..something. For… someone. Or something. And apparently she has some junk in her trunk. I just try to take medical advice and things like Open Discussion on Periods from people with a snit more clout. And I think our girls should be encouraged to do so as well.

It’s…..totally awesome that she wants to help…I just… can’t find the WIN here.

Voting NO, but will probably be overruled,

Picture it.

It’s a clear, warm, midsummer night. You’re at a club, a popular club, a club you like. The music mix is that perfect combination of  It Takes Two and How Low with a little Ice Ice Baby mixed in. The heavy bass thumps, shaking the windows, reverberating through the floor, up through your cute, strappy heels to your bootay, which is shaking. Hard.

You’re out with your girls. Maybe some guys. There’s cute ManMeat (TM GreenEyes) all around. It’s a good night. You’re shaking said bootay and luscious hips side to side. Arms are swingin’.  In your mind, you’re Cha Cha DiGregorio (the best dancer at St Bernadette’s, you know). You think you’re sexy. Hot. Steaming. ON FIRE.

Then it happens. The feeling of sexy, hot, steaming, ON FIRE turns to oh-my-fucking-Gah-why-didn’t-anyone-TELL-me??!?!?! What happens? What was it? What ‘s that event that’s now ruined your night?

The MIRROR.

You see yourself in the mirror (why are there MIRRORS at clubs? Who watches themselves dance?)  and realize that you’re less Cha Cha and more ‘Elaine Benes taught me how to dance/ I’m not having a seizure, I swear!’ All you see is arms flailing and legs kicking and a giant round Fat (and we don’t meant PrettyHotAandTempting) ASS just sticking out there and not looking all that hot and tempting. You look ridiculous and klunky and not sexy, and not that it would matter except that in your mind you looked. so. good.

This is me, whenever I work out. WHY are there mirrors at gyms? Why are there mirrors at dance studios? I mean, I get that you need to watch yourself, to make sure you keep the form but.. HOW do people do this? I can do an entire exercise tape and LOVE IT. Watching myself do an exercise tape? Torture. I feel like I look clumsy and awkward and I’m so fat that it seems like the movement and the exercise is futile. Why even try? It’s not like those thighs are going anywhere…

Our company used to be in an office complex that offered use of their gym. It was rinky dink but it was free, so I thought, ‘well. That’s just… that’s just great’. One day after work, I put on my work out gear (aka yoga pants and t-shirt and sneakers) and went down to the old office complex gym. WHY WAS THE TREADMILL IN FRONT OF A MIRROR? Not to mention there was Man Meat lifting weights in the corner, trying not to watch me but not doing a good job of it. If you never knew black people could blush, know it now. I was beet red and my face was hothothot as I turned off the treadmill, grabbed my bag, and hightailed it out of there. I never went back.

Years later, I decided gyms were not for me. I broke up with LA Fitness and stopped paying that $30 fee to sit on my ass every month. I decided that I would start taking some dance classes. Yeah. Get active and encourage long, lean lines. People, I am 5’3″ and squatty and busty with luscious hips and a big, round ass. Yes, I am big boned… I have a giant bone in my tummy. There is nothing long and lean about me. Yet and still, I went.

I tried my hand at Belly Dancing. It was fun.  It wore me OUT. I never went back. Know why? MIRRORS. Floor to ceiling! I had to watch myself bounce around, looking ridiculous, in my ‘workout gear’. And you can’t wear shoes when you belly dance, so there I am in my socks, slipping around, looking stupid. I was embarassed for me, especially since there were only 6 people in the class. I couldn’t even hide behind anyone!

Then I decided to take a BalletFit class at another dance studio. Again, loads of fun. I have not one clue what relevae means, but I had a good time. I never went back. Guess why? MIRRORS.

I know I sound completely self conscious-ish and low self esteem-ish and you’re thinking a little get over yourself-ish and agree-ish! But it’s so not that easy. I love to do it, if I don’t have to watch myself. If I don’t have to watch the thighs fight each other and the arms flap and the gut bounce and the breasts…. do what breasts do when they’re not tied down. I mean, this girl is chesty– belly dancing just about made me cut them off. There’s actually a lot of hopping. Ouchie.

So I’m deciding what works best for me. I want to Gym It, just not in a gym. I want to Dance it, just not in a dance studio. I want to Belly it, just not if I have to look at my belly.

So I think I am gonna Walk it. And Cardio Barre it. At home. Where I don’t have any mirrors.

And then maybe, someday in the future, after I’ve been at it for awhile, I’ll walk past a mirror and I won’t be that chick in the club who thinks she’s all that and a bag of chips, but is, instead, reminiscent of those malformed and burnt chips that sink to the bottom of the bag.

Nope. I will be Frito Lay, Inc… ish.

Muscle does not weigh more than fat.

I can’t explain what it does to me when I read things like.. “well I know muscle weighs more than fat, so if I’m heavier at my weigh in, that’s why…”

NO.

I know what you mean. I know YOU know what you mean. SAY IT THE RIGHT WAY.

A lb of muscle and a lb of fat weigh the same. A POUND!  Muscle is more dense than fat. Fat has more mass. A lb of muscle is SMALLER than 1 lb of fat, but it does not WEIGH more.

A hunk of muscle and a hunk of fat that measuresthe same MASS (size, circumference), will not measure the same weight, because you will need more muscle or less fat to make them equal.

As well if you gain muscle and burn fat, you shouldn’t be heavier unless you were doing a lot of lifting the day before your weigh in. Muscles tend to retain water after lifting, and release it in a few days. That’s why (back when I used weights) if I was going to weigh in, I made sure to do cardio ONLY the day before a weigh in, so I wasn’t weighing retained water the next day.

Now that I’m done *twitching*, I’ll let you get back to your regularly scheduled lazy Saturday. Cause that’s what I’ve got on the agenda!

I’m jealous. Well not really jealous, more envious. But I still have ‘negative feelings.’

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