INTAKE:
¾ of a banana
Tropical fruit smoothie with plain yogurt
Handful of Omega 3 Trail Mix
Green tea
Hot chocolate
Thai Chicken Salad
2 mini Snickers
1 box Animal Crackers (yes, the ones with partially hydrogenated oil)
small piece of going-away cake
Homemade chicken quesadilla with avocado
OUTPUT:
spin class
5 minute walk across studio lot
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday 3.28.07
In honor of my slippery slope post, I decided I am going to post my daily intake and output (exercise). We'll see how long I can keep this up. It's looking like I'm leaning a little heavy on the sugar category. That's the bottom of the pyramid, right?
INTAKE:
Tropical fruit smoothie
Chocolate croissant (mostly the chocolate)
2 tacos from Baja Fresh plus chips stolen from Brian
1 small Peppermint patty
2 Hershey kisses
1 cup hot chocolate
"Small" frozen yogurt that was the size of China. I threw out half.
5 spoonfuls of leftover Chinese food
OUTPUT:
unless organizing an office counts, none.
INTAKE:
Tropical fruit smoothie
Chocolate croissant (mostly the chocolate)
2 tacos from Baja Fresh plus chips stolen from Brian
1 small Peppermint patty
2 Hershey kisses
1 cup hot chocolate
"Small" frozen yogurt that was the size of China. I threw out half.
5 spoonfuls of leftover Chinese food
OUTPUT:
unless organizing an office counts, none.
On the Move
Life is busy right now. Plain and simple. Okay, life is always busy. I’m moving. We decided to move into my fiancé’s apartment. Not mine. Not the $2300 one next to the Venice (CA) canals or the $2100 one near Montana Avenue off of Ocean Avenue without a view of the ocean so that we’d both have to move. Nope, just me. I’m moving.
This means that I have to give notice on my apartment this week. Like tomorrow or yesterday or even today. I HAVE TO GIVE NOTICE. In the past, I liked to move. I never stayed in one place for long. It was exciting in a pain-in-the-ass-never-collect-too-much-stuff kind of way. But when I moved into this apartment, I said I was staying until I moved in with my husband. I never thought it would take three years to find him and piles of stuff. So here I am. Moving in with my-soon-to-be-husband. I’ve lived in this apartment for four years. I made it mine. I painted. I rearranged the furniture, thrown out furniture and bought furniture until it finally all worked well together. It’s my home. It’s my past. It’s my single girl pad. And it is packed full of crap.
All of it is familiar to me. The closet is packed to the top with clothes, beach towels, fabric for sewing things that I never sew but I might. I have a rack of a rainbow of thread that reminds me I was, and still am, a sewer. Where will this go in the new place? The cupboards are full of cooking things like my clay pot for brewing Chinese medicinal teas and my Christmas ornaments that I’ve never used in Los Angeles. I have boxes of yarn stashed under my bed next to big drawing pads from my drawing classes. Things I can’t live without, but I rarely use. Not too long ago, almost all of my stuff fit in my Jetta. Now? I need a mid-sized U-haul and a storage bin.
On top of sorting out the tangible stuff, I’m dealing with my feelings of letting go of my past. My apartment was my sanctuary from the craziness of LA. I won’t be able to curl up on the couch and watch bad reality television without defending why I watch it. I won’t be able to come home and inhale leftover Chinese while cackling on the phone with an old friend (okay, I can still do that). When my friends come to town now, they will stay with both of us. We won’t be able to stay up late talking up hair products and asshole guys. We’ll edit ourselves. I’m mourning the loss of my single self. The same one who moaned about being single.
Luckily, I’ll still be able to fart.
This means that I have to give notice on my apartment this week. Like tomorrow or yesterday or even today. I HAVE TO GIVE NOTICE. In the past, I liked to move. I never stayed in one place for long. It was exciting in a pain-in-the-ass-never-collect-too-much-stuff kind of way. But when I moved into this apartment, I said I was staying until I moved in with my husband. I never thought it would take three years to find him and piles of stuff. So here I am. Moving in with my-soon-to-be-husband. I’ve lived in this apartment for four years. I made it mine. I painted. I rearranged the furniture, thrown out furniture and bought furniture until it finally all worked well together. It’s my home. It’s my past. It’s my single girl pad. And it is packed full of crap.
All of it is familiar to me. The closet is packed to the top with clothes, beach towels, fabric for sewing things that I never sew but I might. I have a rack of a rainbow of thread that reminds me I was, and still am, a sewer. Where will this go in the new place? The cupboards are full of cooking things like my clay pot for brewing Chinese medicinal teas and my Christmas ornaments that I’ve never used in Los Angeles. I have boxes of yarn stashed under my bed next to big drawing pads from my drawing classes. Things I can’t live without, but I rarely use. Not too long ago, almost all of my stuff fit in my Jetta. Now? I need a mid-sized U-haul and a storage bin.
On top of sorting out the tangible stuff, I’m dealing with my feelings of letting go of my past. My apartment was my sanctuary from the craziness of LA. I won’t be able to curl up on the couch and watch bad reality television without defending why I watch it. I won’t be able to come home and inhale leftover Chinese while cackling on the phone with an old friend (okay, I can still do that). When my friends come to town now, they will stay with both of us. We won’t be able to stay up late talking up hair products and asshole guys. We’ll edit ourselves. I’m mourning the loss of my single self. The same one who moaned about being single.
Luckily, I’ll still be able to fart.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Think twice before shaking
I used to live in Boulder, Colorado. Recycling was a way of life. The idea of throwing out a can was akin to running over a small child. You just didn’t do it. Then I moved to California. I tried for a little while, but my building doesn’t have recycling. Recycling meant that I had to find room for bins in my small apartment, and then find time on Saturday between 8 and 12 to take my items to the recycling center. I never did it. Not once. I took some magazines to a recycling bin close by, but that’s it.
I quickly figured out that entrepreneurial (also usually homeless) people collected bottles to cash in for the deposit. That became my out. I was helping people who helped me save the planet. I felt a little better and ignored the rest.
That worked well until Al Gore released his Oscar-winning film An Inconvenient Truth, which I still haven’t seen. It opened people’s eyes and got the discussion going again. It is now cool to love the earth and eat organic. No longer do I feel okay throwing out my magazines and cardboard boxes that bring me inventory for the website. I am again looking at how I live my life, and rethinking that drive to the recycling center on Saturday.
Being “green” is the new cool. The web is teeming with great sites on how to live a more ecologically sound life. I’ve been combing sites looking at ideas to make our wedding more eco-savvy. My eBay dress is a fabulous step in that direction since I am recycling a huge piece of chemically treated fabric. We are using local flowers, and I asked our caterer to use as many local foods as she can. We’re using rented plates and dishes because they can be reused (and look so much better than plastic). We are doing pretty well in the big picture and I felt good about it all until I started reading more. There is always more to do to lessen the impact on the earth. Like not using toilet paper.
I quickly figured out that entrepreneurial (also usually homeless) people collected bottles to cash in for the deposit. That became my out. I was helping people who helped me save the planet. I felt a little better and ignored the rest.
That worked well until Al Gore released his Oscar-winning film An Inconvenient Truth, which I still haven’t seen. It opened people’s eyes and got the discussion going again. It is now cool to love the earth and eat organic. No longer do I feel okay throwing out my magazines and cardboard boxes that bring me inventory for the website. I am again looking at how I live my life, and rethinking that drive to the recycling center on Saturday.
Being “green” is the new cool. The web is teeming with great sites on how to live a more ecologically sound life. I’ve been combing sites looking at ideas to make our wedding more eco-savvy. My eBay dress is a fabulous step in that direction since I am recycling a huge piece of chemically treated fabric. We are using local flowers, and I asked our caterer to use as many local foods as she can. We’re using rented plates and dishes because they can be reused (and look so much better than plastic). We are doing pretty well in the big picture and I felt good about it all until I started reading more. There is always more to do to lessen the impact on the earth. Like not using toilet paper.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Slippery Slope
Tropical fruit smoothie made at home
Green tea
Handful (or 6) of Trader Joe’s Omega-3 Trail mix
Top of chocolate muffin (why waste the calories on the sucky bottom half?)
3 pieces of leftover BBQ chicken pizza (cold)
Hot chocolate
2,453 Hershey kisses
1 mojito
Skirt steak and fries
Yesterday’s list is pretty much how my life feels. It was very healthy, and then somehow, I’ve become a steak, pizza, fry-eating woman. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??? Is this why married people gain weight?
A year ago, prior to meeting my soon-to-be-husband, I worked out regularly (2-4 times a week) with a variety of exercises including but not limited to: spinning, hiking, yoga and running. Today, I went to spin class out of pure guilt for the first time in a month. Yoga? Please. My toes are somewhere south of Mexico and I am not reaching them from up here. A hike? That would entail getting in the car on the weekend to do something other than dress shop or go to a wedding, which seems like all we’ve been doing (two in March!).
I should also point out that two years ago, I regularly made myself lunch to take to work. It usually consisted of organic lettuce, organic beets, organic carrots, organic nuts, homemade salad dressing with organic olive oil. Sometimes I brought a cheese snack, which wasn’t organic. I know, crazy. I took pride in what I ate. Then, I realized, the company would pay for my lunch on the days I stayed in if I wasn’t so picky about organic. On the few days I don’t have to stay in, it is much more fun to meet friends for lunch out. So, I stopped making my lunch and started to eat salads and other healthy stuff out. When, exactly, did I switch from organic salad to BBQ chicken pizza??!
When I got home from dinner last night, my belly hurt with a greasy, heavy feeling. My heart-burn, stress-meter was on (pain in my throat), and did I mention my belly was bloated out to Palm Springs?
On top of the exercise and food, my hair hasn’t been cut in months, a grey streak is taunting me to get back on track, my eyebrows are untouched by wax since way before Christmas and we won’t even talk about my bikini area. On the plus side, I had a pedicure prior to one of the weddings in March, but my shoes smudged the polish. Needless to say, I haven’t fixed that.
This could be my future. I could turn into my nightmare of a lumpy, out-of-shape, out-of-style (I’ll discuss the wardrobe issue later) wife. At the rate I am going, I will be a lump of lard by our wedding in August and my fiance won't want to touch me. I’ve heard the stories of letting yourself go once you get a man, but really, this is ridicules. I don’t even have the real ring yet!
Today, I am turning it around. I went back to spinning. I ate salad for lunch. I’ve only had 4 Hershey kisses. I scheduled a haircut. I’m not going down without a fight! Or at least not without decent hair. I still have some standards. Low as they my be, they are mine.
Green tea
Handful (or 6) of Trader Joe’s Omega-3 Trail mix
Top of chocolate muffin (why waste the calories on the sucky bottom half?)
3 pieces of leftover BBQ chicken pizza (cold)
Hot chocolate
2,453 Hershey kisses
1 mojito
Skirt steak and fries
Yesterday’s list is pretty much how my life feels. It was very healthy, and then somehow, I’ve become a steak, pizza, fry-eating woman. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??? Is this why married people gain weight?
A year ago, prior to meeting my soon-to-be-husband, I worked out regularly (2-4 times a week) with a variety of exercises including but not limited to: spinning, hiking, yoga and running. Today, I went to spin class out of pure guilt for the first time in a month. Yoga? Please. My toes are somewhere south of Mexico and I am not reaching them from up here. A hike? That would entail getting in the car on the weekend to do something other than dress shop or go to a wedding, which seems like all we’ve been doing (two in March!).
I should also point out that two years ago, I regularly made myself lunch to take to work. It usually consisted of organic lettuce, organic beets, organic carrots, organic nuts, homemade salad dressing with organic olive oil. Sometimes I brought a cheese snack, which wasn’t organic. I know, crazy. I took pride in what I ate. Then, I realized, the company would pay for my lunch on the days I stayed in if I wasn’t so picky about organic. On the few days I don’t have to stay in, it is much more fun to meet friends for lunch out. So, I stopped making my lunch and started to eat salads and other healthy stuff out. When, exactly, did I switch from organic salad to BBQ chicken pizza??!
When I got home from dinner last night, my belly hurt with a greasy, heavy feeling. My heart-burn, stress-meter was on (pain in my throat), and did I mention my belly was bloated out to Palm Springs?
On top of the exercise and food, my hair hasn’t been cut in months, a grey streak is taunting me to get back on track, my eyebrows are untouched by wax since way before Christmas and we won’t even talk about my bikini area. On the plus side, I had a pedicure prior to one of the weddings in March, but my shoes smudged the polish. Needless to say, I haven’t fixed that.
This could be my future. I could turn into my nightmare of a lumpy, out-of-shape, out-of-style (I’ll discuss the wardrobe issue later) wife. At the rate I am going, I will be a lump of lard by our wedding in August and my fiance won't want to touch me. I’ve heard the stories of letting yourself go once you get a man, but really, this is ridicules. I don’t even have the real ring yet!
Today, I am turning it around. I went back to spinning. I ate salad for lunch. I’ve only had 4 Hershey kisses. I scheduled a haircut. I’m not going down without a fight! Or at least not without decent hair. I still have some standards. Low as they my be, they are mine.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Stupid NCAA
I'm screwed. Texas lost to USC, which is in the city I live in now. And of course, North Carolina is still hanging in there. When do all the top seeds actually advance?! There is always an upset! Of all the years for me to lose my loyalty.
Friday, March 16, 2007
A Betting Woman
It is that time of year again, kids. The one time a year I pay attention to the sports page. Fuck the Super Bowl. Screw the World Series. The Olympics are only every two years, and quite honestly are ruined by the lame commentary and plethora of commercials. The Tour de France is only on the Outdoor Life Network, and I don’t have cable. This brings me to my favorite sporting event: the NCAA Basketball Road to the Final Four. Yes, for years I have filled out a bracket with no clue as to who plays well.
Last year, after years of being screwed by my home state basketball players (how many times can the Blue Devils make me lose a pool??), I picked non-North Carolina teams to win. In one bracket, the one that ended up not counting, I chose the long-shot team of Florida to win. Who won? Florida! Naturally, in the bracket that actually counted, I don’t remember who I picked because they lost which means I lost.
So, game on! As of right now, I am doing decently. Luckily, I didn’t have the Blue Devils going very far since they already LOST!! My pick for the champions? University of Texas. Why? Because I want to move to Austin, or at least I think I want to move there. And everyone wants to live in a city of winners. We’ll see how they play this afternoon. Cross your fingers!
Last year, after years of being screwed by my home state basketball players (how many times can the Blue Devils make me lose a pool??), I picked non-North Carolina teams to win. In one bracket, the one that ended up not counting, I chose the long-shot team of Florida to win. Who won? Florida! Naturally, in the bracket that actually counted, I don’t remember who I picked because they lost which means I lost.
So, game on! As of right now, I am doing decently. Luckily, I didn’t have the Blue Devils going very far since they already LOST!! My pick for the champions? University of Texas. Why? Because I want to move to Austin, or at least I think I want to move there. And everyone wants to live in a city of winners. We’ll see how they play this afternoon. Cross your fingers!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Sleep in a Tube
I am not usually one who sings the praises of make-up. I wear it. I love buying it, but I am the most un-loyal cosmetic customer who ever lived. I pride myself in wearing small, label brands that no one has heard of and carrying lots of different brands. Currently, my make-up bag has such random brands as Sue Devitt (love her if you have never tried her stuff), Laura Mercier (everyone knows who she is now), Nars (orgasm blush because who doesn’t want to look like they just had an orgasm?), Lorac, the requisite Shu Uemura eye-lash curler, Sonia Kushak (yes, Target) and who knows what else. I will buy whatever the salesperson at Barney's or Fred Segal suggests (yes, make-up is all I can afford at those stores). I feel so special when I walk out with my little black bag. I hate that the bag makes me feel good, but it does. Way, way better than the blue bag (and I’ve had a few of those given to me).
So, the fact I am giving the Stila Perfecting Concealer a shout-out means that you really, really should run out and buy it. The woman at Fred Segal knew what she was talking about. It covers the circles. It goes on smoothly. It doesn’t crease. It makes you look like you got a great night of sleep. Even my mother who thinks I look beautiful with no make-up on, thought the concealer was amazing. If you only have three things in your make-up arsenal, I suggest this, the Shu Uemura curler and some cheap mascara. Seriously. Okay, maybe a lipstick or some of the Burt's Bees trying-to-be-lipstick-stuff, too.
So, the fact I am giving the Stila Perfecting Concealer a shout-out means that you really, really should run out and buy it. The woman at Fred Segal knew what she was talking about. It covers the circles. It goes on smoothly. It doesn’t crease. It makes you look like you got a great night of sleep. Even my mother who thinks I look beautiful with no make-up on, thought the concealer was amazing. If you only have three things in your make-up arsenal, I suggest this, the Shu Uemura curler and some cheap mascara. Seriously. Okay, maybe a lipstick or some of the Burt's Bees trying-to-be-lipstick-stuff, too.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
