Eat Healthy Food. The End.

I've never been naturally thin. Or skinny, or slender, or however you'd like to characterize it. In fact, I'm more on the naturally chubby end of the spectrum. If I eat fatty foods, I get fatter. Pretty basic math when it comes to my body, diet & exercise.

It's funny how if this happens to be your body type or metabolism or whatever it is that differentiates people like me from people who could eat pizza and pasta 7 days a week and stay skinny, you fall into the trap of trying to trick your body. You start coming up with magic ways to eat shitty food and somehow not gain weight or poison your insides. But no matter the crafty method we come up with, whether it's fat-free or sugar-free or going to be the one time you eat the bad food, it never works. The magic is not magic. And moving past this need to make our bodies something that they aren't in relation to food is one of the most important steps in taking control of your health, taking it back from your cravings and excuses and the difficulty of eating what you should eat, instead of what you want to eat. At least it was an important step for me.

And once I took it, a funny thing happened...

I found a new kind of magic. The kind of magic that works. See, if you eat legitimately healthy foods in portions that are appropriate for your body & exercise program, you become legitimately healthier. Is it easy? Nope. Kind of sucks, especially at first. But once your body stops craving bread and cheese (well...it never fully stops, but it kinda lets you off the hook a bit...), it starts to crave the good stuff. The stuff that magic is made of. Food magic. I've taken this metaphor way too far... You'll also notice that I used the word "legitimately" here. Because when it comes to "healthy" or "clean" eating, the average person is stupid. Yep, straight up dummy. Trust me, I know firsthand about fake-healthy eating. I used to do it all the time. Like multi-grain toast with your scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. What a responsible decision! Give yourself a pat on the back! As if. How about no toast. And bacon OR eggs, unless you're actually in need of that much protein, which the average person is not. And ditch the potatoes. Get some fruit in there, or some green vegetables. (Yeah, I said it - green veg for breakfast. Deal with it.) Or maybe have some oatmeal with your eggs. Oatmeal?! Amazing!!! Brown sugar & cream. I think not... Just the oatmeal. On its own. Yeahhhhh, now we're really talking magic!!! And all you elitist paleo morons who are going to harp on me about oatmeal, go read something else, there are plenty of paleo blogs that are perfectly designed to reinforce why you're right. According to you.

             Bad food vs. better food. Apparently it's all about the jaw line...that's what someone smart told me...

I guess what I'm getting at is how cutting the bullshit story about how it wasn't fair that I couldn't eat what I wanted was a good move. Because it's the truth, I can't eat what I want at times when it comes to maintaining and improving upon a healthy body. That's also a difference, focusing on a healthy body instead of a skinny body. Get healthy, and I feel pretty confident that you'll also get the body you never knew you wanted. But back to the unfair. Lots of things are unfair. No one cares. Get over it. And then work with what you have. Quit trying to fool the system. All I know is the only results I got from that were bigger clothes and lower self esteem. Once you accept what your body will do when you feed it what it truly wants, you can make it work for you in a way that is amazing and empowering.

Eat healthy food. Eat real food. And you'll end up real healthy. The End. Slash The Beginning...

Hand Calluses & Fake Nails

Kyla Gagnon (a.k.a. my platonic wife) is one of the amazing individuals who is a part of my own personal fitness squad, and she also happens to compete in fitness shows. In preparation for one of her shows, she opted to get some legit gel nails, with a whole lotta rhinestone action happening, to accent her teeny-tiny metallic stage bikini that she looked annoyingly good in. Granted, she trains with dedication and consistency, and eats with discipline and health in mind. But whatever...she looked good (visual below, to help you really grasp it all...her nails...my nails...her looking good). The moral of this story has nothing to do with her hard work and dedication, but instead serves as a segue to her nails inspiring me to get gel nails, too. Because we do everything together. Except fitness shows. I don't do those...

Anyhow, so I've become a nails girl. But I've also become a gym girl. Well, I've become the Anti-Fitness Fitness Chick, to be exact, but whatever. Turns out I like barbells. They're pretty fun to throw around. And they make you feel cooler than you are. At least they make me feel cooler than I am. I felt extra cool when I started putting plates on the barbell. See? You're already asking yourself how the hell I felt remotely cool when I wasn't even using plates. Well, that's the magic of the barbell. Anyway.

So I've been throwing barbells around. (I seriously hope you have a visual of me taking a barbell and going all Olympic-javelin on it. Right in the squat room. Aiming it specifically at those freak shows with the Shake Weights. That'll be another post. Barbells. Right...) So barbells, working in some dumbbells, bells everywhere! And in the midst of these bells, I've developed calluses on my midget hands. If you've ever met me you'll know that "midget hands" is literally the only appropriate way to describe my circus hands. Kyla calls them "midget mitts." Well, the midget mitts are callused! They peel and get kinda gross. And it's interesting, because along with my leper-like palms, I have these random, girly gel nails.

Why am I talking about these two seemingly-unrelated topics? Because I like the dichotomy that they represent to me. I like the notion that I can be over-the-top girly on one hand (or both hands hehehe), and under-the-barbell-jerk womanly, on the other. I like that I am not one or the other, but instead, I am both. My hands are soft and pretty on one side, and rough and dry on the other. I like that my hands have this new side to them, this side that compliments the other, this side that completes the picture. And I suppose because I like both sides of my hands, the fake nails and the calluses, I thought I'd write about them. So that it's understood that you don't have to choose between them. You can have both.

You just might break one of those fake nails every now and then. Or you might trip over the barbell. But don't worry, because if you do, your calluses will make the fall a little less rough...

Why Am I Writing This?

I feel like the "why" in everything is pretty important. The motivation behind most things is relatively helpful in determining both the outcome and the journey that will take you there. It's definitely worth exploring when it comes to health, fitness, and the role both play in your life. It would probably make more sense for me to write about my own "why" when it comes to the gym and eating kale but instead, I'm opting to quickly explain why I'm spamming cyberspace with my rantings...

It's pretty simple & not nearly as deep as one might hope. I like to write, I enjoy combining self-deprecation with bragging, and making fitness a priority has changed my life. No matter who you are or what you're doing, if something has come into your universe and made a profound impact, you should share. No ifs, ands or buts, you should share. Sharing is what life is all about. Human connection is sharing. Why do we go to the movies with friends, when the reality is no one will interact & our attention is hypothetically geared completely towards whatever Oscar contender is on the screen (as if, you're all hooked on stupid shit like "Frozen.")? Because sharing, even when we're not sharing, is the best. And when there's something good to be shared, it's better than the best. And this has been something good for me, better than good, better than the best.

So I'm going to share.

(I'll even share this photo...super fitness-oriented - love my bff)

You Look...

Strong. Strong is the appropriate fill-in-the-blank, at least the one that I've been enjoying of late.

Apparently when you drag your ass to the gym 5 or 6 days a week, and start replacing gouda with asparagus, your body undergoes some changes. And your urine smells. But I digress...

It's funny because when you don't have the greatest relationship with your body, the adjectives you use to describe goals are often specific to an aesthetic - you care about how you look and often assume how you look is what correlates with how you feel about yourself. And don't get me wrong, watching my body change has helped me feel more comfortable in my own skin, but it isn't tied to how I "look," as in how skinny I am (trust me, I'm not), or what size I'm wearing, but instead I'm finding that feeling and looking strong is what clicks. I've had two people in the past week tell me I look strong and it made my day on both occasions. I do want to point out that getting stronger has also meant shedding some body fat and my look has changed into something that is preferable, at least in my eyes, to my previous body, if you will, but I don't know if someone telling me I looked thin would feel like much of a compliment these days.

Don't get me wrong, I want to look & feel like a woman, or at least whatever that means to me. As an example, I can appreciate that the females who do Cross Fit have super strong looks to them but for myself, they often look a little masculine for my taste. I guess that right there shows that the aesthetic aspect is still alive & well, as I'm basically saying I want to look strong but not TOO strong. Either way, to each their own and as long as you feel good in your own skin, which is very much a work in progress for me, then keep doing whatever you're doing. Unless it's Belly Fit or jazzercise, in which case, stop what you're doing, and mix in some real exercise. (I told you this was an opinion-based blog...)

I guess for me, strong equates to healthy, and healthy feels good. It feels better than looking at a smaller size in my pants. Granted, I'm not opposed to a smaller size...my ass is huge, but it's not the measuring stick. I know there's the whole "strong is the new skinny" movement and honestly, I don't really care about that. I'm too much of a narcissist to concern myself with what other people are striving to look like. I mean, I never set out to look strong and I imagine to the masses, I probably don't look strong. Especially to one of those Cross Fit chicks, who now thinks I told her she looks like a dude and will likely chase me down, with a Prowler sled in front of her, while she plans on how to beat me up for time. (Too far?) I get distracted so easily...

Bottom line, call me strong and I'll smile at you, because I like how it sounds and I feel even better about what it means for my health, and where I've come so far...

The Double Sweat-Through

So one of the things about being a gym newbie is all of the firsts. Firsts combined with a total ignorance when it comes to terminology. And what do I do if I'm not sure what a consummate gym rat would say? I make something up! This is how the Double Sweat-Through was born!

This post is a lot shorter & less windy than others. Essentially, my training program of late consists of workouts that decimate me. I literally lay on the ground at the end. I'd like to think I've always been a pretty hard worker but I'm finding that as my strength improves, my capabilities expand and working hard gets bigger and better. Like my quads. That's the name of my thigh muscle, yo... (I think)

Bottom line, making gains (I literally hate myself for saying that...so cliche) means results. And results means getting sweaty. I get sweaty pretty easily & I never leave the gym without being moderately gross, at the bare minimum. Lately, however, I've encountered an exciting new result - the Double Sweat-Through! In addition to being sweaty on my back, the front of my super cute GAP tanks are also soaked. And it gets me soooooo jacked up!!! It might sound bizarre that being a mess in my own sweat is super exciting to me...but it is. Soaked hair, dripping body, drenched face, it's all awesome. And motivates me for the next round. (There's also SWASS but no one wants to talk about that...)

Bottom line, if you're hitting the gym, make sure you're striving for more, whether it's a heavier dumbbell, an extra 10 box jumps, or walking out of there looking like you're exiting a swimming pool...fully clothed, naturally. And while you're striving for more, make up weird phrases to talk about it. Also feel free to reference the Double Sweat-Through to your gym family. You'll enjoy the moment where they have no effing clue what you mean.

Gym Shame

Gym shame. It's been a while. How not-awesome of you to resurface...

Being a relative newbie to the gym, it's definitely taken a while to acclimate. I came in as unknowledgeable as possible, whether you're talking about muscles or a type of exercise, or a specific machine. Love that moment when someone mentions the Smith machine, as if I would have any idea what they're referring to...get serious. Or snatch - you want to chat about vagina? Seems a bit unnecessary...

My aforementioned ignorance was accompanied by an enormous amount of gym shame, one of the toughest forms of shame & self-consciousness I've ever encountered. Feeling incredibly aware of everyone around me, every individual with a plan and purpose, and me, feeling more befuddled and insecure than I can explain. I know we all have insecurities and often think people are judging us when they really don't give a shit about anything beyond the 6 inches surrounding them, but for me, it was the worst in this arena. I worried people could tell how little I knew, or that they looked at my physique and wondered if I realized my gym time was wasted, since based on my out-of-shape body, what I was doing clearly wasn't working. Unless I was working with one of my incredible trainers or tolerant training partners, I would freeze. I'd blank on what to do, even if I had a workout written down. I'd often leave, too anxious to think straight and convinced I looked like a moron to everyone else, all of those geniuses working their neck-shoulders (my scientific term for traps, aka trapezoids...I think), or running up a futile storm on the treadmill. Sorry, on A treadmill, my gym has more than one treadmill. Obviously.

Thankfully, with time, progress & a wicked #fitfam (you should probably punch me for typing that), I gained tiny pieces of confidence. And with more time & progress, I became borderline confident within my gym. I definitely still had moments of feeling unsure but overall, it became a source of comfort. I liked recognizing people. I loved Wednesday & Friday mornings, training dates with one of my bffs that overlapped with a couple of gems who trained with a fave personal trainer/bff (yep, so many bffs) of mine. The gym was a dope place to be and I was essentially in charge of the place! Not really. But you get the picture.

I then had to conquer out-of-town gyms. With my crew, holidays include gym time. Before you roll your eyes, allow me to interject. People are healthy because they consistently engage in healthy habits, exercise being one of those. Period. So swallow your vacay-workout judgment & hit the gym yourself the next time you get away. I digress... My friends, you travel, you still work out. And work out I did. And over time, I became fine with doing so, sans nervousness or embarrassment. And that, may I tell you, is an awesome feeling.

So imagine my disappointment tonight when my old nemesis, Gym Shame 2013, came to visit. I had done a cardio session earlier today but needed to get in some lifting. I showed up, ready to go & it all crumbled. My program includes back squats, but the squat rack was occupied. There were quite a few new dudes working out, pretty jacked & pretty focused and I felt super intimidated. My program includes box jumps today - what if I wipe out? What if hot-guy-who-may-or-may-not-juice (he's borderline) sees me wipe out? Is he already thinking that I don't look lean enough to be someone who's serious about the gym? Are goblet squats an acceptable replacement for back squats? If I do goblet squats, will the people around me watch and think I'm not going deep enough, or that my weight isn't heavy enough? (Trust me, I have taken a moment to laugh about my goblet squat-related stress, since the only goblets I used to reference hold booze or are the object of Indiana Jones' desire).

I did half my program and quit. And I felt like such a loser. It's amazing how tough it is to celebrate our triumphs and how easy it is to dwell on our stumbles. My immediate response was indeed a solid dwell. I was a failure. I had a program and I didn't follow it. Thankfully, I'm a lot kinder to myself than I used to be, and I removed those thoughts pretty quickly, reminded myself of my cardio session earlier in the day, and mapped out my approach for tomorrow. Forgiveness of self is an incredible gift, no matter the issue, and I don't want to focus on feelings that impede me, regardless of the area of life.

So what's the point of this lengthy and not overly interesting tale? First and foremost, to remind myself both to forgive myself and to push myself. And especially to forgive myself for the times I don't push as hard as I could, whilst remembering that such forgiveness can be accompanied by a pep talk that incites action the next time around. Don't mistake forgiveness for complacency. Beyond that, this is to let all of the me's out there know that this happens to the best of us, regardless of our stage in the #fitfam journey (that's twice, why are you even still reading). Feeling self-conscious? Been there, done that. Fake it til you make it, and eventually you won't be faking it. And judging by my experience tonight, you'll relapse, because you're human. But that's cool. Just work that much harder when you make your reappearance. Hop on that Smith machine and kill it, while everyone else focuses on their own stuff, their own biceps, their own gym outfit, their own gains. And when the shame comes, let it come, embrace it. But then let it go. Be done with it. And forgive yourself for being human, just like the rest of us.

For the record, I still don't know what a Smith machine is. Who cares. I know other stuff...

Fitness Sucks. But It Changed My Life...

So here's the thing. I've always been pretty anti-fitness. Or at least anti whatever habits and foods accompany a stereotypically fit lifestyle. I'm not really into "fitness," or the gym or whatever. I've played sports over the years, but never engaged in regimented training. I grew up eating relatively healthy, in my opinion, but was always all about "balance" and not depriving myself. I never hit up the gym in university (sure as hell not in high school), and have coasted through adulthood with a solid unawareness of what my quads were, the difference between various protein bars (a.k.a. pretend chocolate bars), or any real desire to cut bread and cheese out of my diet...I mean, balance obviously includes bread and cheese, right?

My closest friends are all active, fit people, and are definitely in better shape than the average person. Which I have always been - average. And I figured that was fine, because average is normal, and normal is acceptable. I was cool with being the only person to order a drink with brunch (you're supposed to drink ceasars on Sunday), or eating steak & potatoes while everyone else ordered chicken & vegetables. My amigos would go cycling (gross), lift weights, play basketball in a rec league, and I've always been juuuust fine with watching a flick or going shopping instead. Except, I wasn't totally fine with that. In fact, I was pretty much the opposite of fine.

I hated feeling as though a round of beach volleyball with my nearest and dearest would expose my pathetic cardio capabilities, and that's not even addressing the ridiculous stress associated with the attire that accompanies the beach. I could go on and on about how negatively my health & fitness habits impacted me on a daily basis, and I probably will as we get into things through the posts ahead. But for now, I'll cut to the chase. 

I got sick of feeling like shit. That meant I had to change things. It meant I had to embrace the terrifying world of fitness. Kill me now...

Long story not-so-short, in May 2013, I started making some pretty legit changes. And here we are, with life feeling very different than it did then. And much to my chagrin, I may or may not be becoming a "fitness chick." I don't really know what that even means, but it seems applicable because at least 50% of the crap that comes out of my mouth has to do with the gym or meal plans or lifting weights or how ridiculously jacked my legs are, so I figure that kind of makes me a fitness chick. But in keeping with my cynical and sarcastic personality, I'm the self-proclaimed anti-fitness fitness chick. And if it's self-proclaimed, it must be true...

With fitness (and when I say fitness, I'm referring to physical activity & nutrition, because for me, they're inextricably linked) being such a big part of my born-again self (yeah, yeah, I drank the Kool-Aid), I wanted somewhere to share. Because I basically never shut up in real life and I imagine people are wondering why my Instagram feed is flooded with cheesy gym pics or copious amounts of kale. And I have a lot of opinions and like most obnoxious people, I want to share them. 

So this is where you'll find my opinions. And please keep in mind, they are just that - I don't claim to be a professional anything (other than Realtor, but who cares about that). I'm just going to talk about the stuff that makes my life better, the stuff that is really fucking hard, and all the random thoughts I have in between.

Read at your own risk...perhaps while on the treadmill? (I'm super funny, too...just ask me)