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The deformity I didn’t even know I had

Ladies- you thought your muffin top was a problem, wait until you start obsessing over your banana roll.

Banana rolls are a thing by Frugie Blog

photo credit Vox Efx

What’s a banana roll? Well, contrary to what you might think it is not the latest Pinterest treat to enjoy with your pumpkin spiced latte.

Although that does sound tasty.

It is the latest body obsession that we can thank bodacious babes like Nicki Minaj, Kim Kardashian and Iggy Azalea for. In the year of the butt, which let’s face it folks, has been every year for me, (ahem) we not only want to power out our lunges but now we can surgically take our upper thigh fat and place it in our booties. Well, not ‘we’, but plastic surgeons can.

A banana roll is an ‘unsightly’ (gasp) roll of fat just under the butt cheek. Because butt cheeks are made of fat. Duh.

Let’s just sit on this for a sec. Big butts are in. That’s cool. I always have appreciated a Kardashian backside. I will watch Keeping up the Kardashians just so I can feel better about my proportionally larger posterior.

But(t) not only are big butts in, a certain kind of ass is in. A large, perfectly round ass that has no folds or flaws that sits atop skinny thighs. Because THAT’S realistic (sarcasm font). A lollipop of a butt on a skinny leg. If you tell me that all of this is obtained WITH a thigh gap, I might have to punch someone.

What’s a thigh gap? Never mind.

The problem with celebrity culture bringing out ‘trends’ in body type is people become obsessed with unreal objectives.  These objectives achieved with plastic surgery, in the form of liposuction, that could be dangerous or reverse itself over time, aren’t worth it. Y’all know that Nicki Minaj got butt implants right? That’s not even her real ass! So if you’re trying to undo your banana roll with just your normal non-bionic butt, you’re probably not going to get the results you want in the first place.

According to the UK’s Daily Mail, some surgery clinics have seen business triple when it comes to sucking banana rolls from women’s backsides.

Well, it’s comforting to know the ladies of London have just as much insecurity as the rest of us. Geezus.

What is wrong with a flat ass? There’s a whole continent of folks with flat asses.

Let’s all mourn for the poor thing that thinks her butt is ‘deformed’ that posted her question on realself.com. The picture she posts shows a perfectly formed booty in my opinion. Nothing deformed about it!

You’ve read my rantings about body image before.

I can only handle so much the media, celebrity culture, and superficial masses are dishing out.

You’re thinking, “Gee Frugie, why not just shut up about it, ignore it and go on with yourself?”

Aww, where would the fun in that be?

Folks. I will not be getting lipo for my banana roll. Sure, it’s a stubborn bump of fat that sits under my butt cheek. Guess what?
You know what else is under my butt cheek? Cottage cheese.

Not like the real cottage cheese, but the proverbial dotty clumpy cellulite cottage thigh cheese. Yes, so pretty, I know.

I have been doing lunges and squats like crazy lately. Not because I want some pop star booty, but because working my glutes is a major muscle group that burns calories and gets my heart rate up. Plus, it makes my legs strong if I have to squat over porta potties in an emergency. I got me some serious butt game, no surgery.

I like to think of my body as a buffet; from my chicken-wing arms, to the muffin top cupcake fold in the middle, the now-labeled banana roll and of course, cottage cheese thighs.

And guess what- it’s all delicious THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

 

 

Girl crush Friday

Meghan Trainor. Who’s that? Let me tell you.

Frugalista Blog Girl Crush Friday All About That Bass

By the end of today I will get a song stuck in your head for sure.

But in a good way!

Yes, this summer has been all about Iggy, and Ariana, and Pharell. But, for me, it’s been ALL ABOUT THAT BASS.

And that’s BASS pronounced (bayse). Just so we’re clear.

You probably have never heard of her- Meghan Trainor. An adorable 20 year old from Massachusetts, who is probably considered the American Adele with her raspy mature voice, retro cute looks in her video and vocal pipes.

But I think she’s Meghan all on her own. Not just an Adele comparison. No offense Adele, you’re awesome.

Let’s talk about her single and her video.

All About That Bass is an anthem of sorts but not just for fat girls. No. It’s chorus,

“My momma she told me don’t worry about your size”

and “You think you’re fat. But every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top.” needs to be shouted from the mountain tops. I wish it could be piped in the halls of high schools everywhere. These words need to resonate with girls all over of all sizes!

Whether you’re a size 0 or size 16. The body image thing isn’t overdone. Trust me. Because girls are still looking in the mirror comparing themselves to magazine pictures. My daughter included. And myself.

So let’s “Bring booty back” and not worry about numbers but revel in our (s)ass and glory! Yeah!

Whenever this song came on the radio this summer, my daughter and I blasted it and broke out in our best moves. Even in the car.

Here’s the video that is immensely popular. Anything with retro looking Betty Draper style mixed with cotton candy explosion of pastel colors, pretty much begs me to love and adore it like a new kitten.

And if the tune ain’t your thing, no biggy. Just remember that ‘You’re perfect from the bottom to the top’.

Meghan, you go on with your fine self. And if you ever want to go makeup shopping and shoe shopping, call me. I know a great place next to the best donut shop!

If that’s not cute enough, here she is on Jimmy Fallon:

 

Sorry (not sorry) about my cellulite

Here we go again. It’s ‘bikini season’. Otherwise known as, let’s shave all our nether areas and expose them to strangers while romping at the pool or beach with our kids wearing a strip of fabric to cover our butts.

I know it’s occurred to some that wearing a bikini is pretty much like wearing a bra and panties, but in public. I think I would prefer the 1920′s swim fashion of bloomers and long shirts, but that’s just me. I don’t want to feel like I’m wearing a bra and panties in public. I like coverage. Is this because I jiggle and have pooches? I don’t know. Maybe.

All winter long as I stuff myself with scones and donuts, I think of how I should be drinking green tea and sipping watercress soup if I want to look good in a swimsuit come June. And let’s be honest, I’m stuffing myself with scones and donuts, not just in the winter, but all year around. The fact that I’m NOT a size 1X is pretty much due to genetics. I have my father’s side to thank for that. Although, back to the watercress, who the hell eats watercress?

So then here comes June. Actually, here comes spring break. April. And I put the swimsuit on for the first time in months but I don’t look at myself in the mirror. I just put it on and head out to the pool with my swim cover on and sit in my chaise.  I am thinking, why didn’t I work out more? Why is there so much cellulite this year than last year? What is that weird looking vein cluster? Was that there before?

But then I look around. And not to get too uppity, but there’s a few of some other moms with cellulite too. And I start to feel better. I relax a little as I’m shoving Pop chips in my face. What’s pool time without snacks? If you don’t bring chips to a pool, you’re dead to me.

Okay, then there’s one mom. There’s always THAT mom. The really fit one with like, 4 kids, to make us feel bad. If she works out, why don’t I work out? And she’s wearing a two piece she bought from Athleta. Heck, she’s probably one of their models. And I put the Pop chips away.

I take stock in the fact that I try. I do. And even though I keep seeing magazine cover after magazine cover (Us Weekly, I’m looking at you) of “Kim’s Wedding Workout” and I’m sick of seeing it. But I have to admit that even though she’s got curves, she’s looking fine. OH WAIT! She spends thousands upon thousands of dollars zapping her cellulite in some plastic surgeon’s office.

Ha! So there you go. If I spent thousands of dollars zapping my cellulite, I’d look like Kim too. But I don’t. I put that money in a college fund. Or family vacation. Or a woman I sponsor in Rwanda. (I’m not bragging or anything.)

My point is- WE ALL HAVE CELLULITE! (Except Athleta mom. You just go back to your paddle board, lady, I’ll deal with you later.)

You have cellulite. And you have cellulite- and YOU and YOU and YOU!

If we surround ourselves with real women, moms and grandmoms, sisters and friends, NOT magazines, we will appreciate what we have and not worry about the extra.

And don’t get me wrong. I’m planning on working off those winter scones and donuts. But it’s not because I want to fit in a bikini. It’s because I need to climb the ladder to my son’s loft bed each night. It’s the case of wine from Costco I want to be able heave into my minivan without throwing out my back. Use it or lose it baby. And I plan on using my quads and arms for good. Not just at the pool.

Sorry, not sorry about my celllulite by Frugalista Blog

My thighs are flabby, and I’m trying to love them anyway.

The other day on my Facebook wall I asked if people could have one wish, what would it be for. About 95% of you said you want to be skinnier, or be able to eat what you want and not gain weight.

I should also add that people wished to be richer too. I wouldn’t mind that either.

But as far as weight goes, let me try and help. Ladies listen up.

I want to tell you that you are just fine.

You want to fit in that swimsuit because online websites like E!Online post pictures like this one-

with a headline called ‘Bikini Body Wars’ and have viewers vote on which one looks better. Really? There’s mommy wars and now bikini body wars? Because I think it’s great to line up three women who look amazing all in their own way, and let the scrutinizing public pick which one ‘rocks a bikini’ the best.

Insert big eye roll. Oh wait, I just saw my brain.

The Girl made a comment to me in the car when I pointed out someone we know who has what I called, ‘a beer gut’ (he does like beer). She said, “well you have a mom gut.” Ouch.

That stung. I told her that I have a perfectly fine tummy that has squishy skin from having babies, but please don’t imply that I am fat.

I sat in the front seat facing forward and pouted a little. How am I to continue my own body love and try to encourage her to love herself, if she makes flippant remarks about my flab?

She apologized and said she was only joking. But it still hurt. Now this isn’t to get all down on Emma. She was just being a sarcastic teenager, which 90% of the time, we banter back and forth and have a good laugh afterwards.

But that particular moment, I wasn’t feeling it. I felt like crying instead. I felt like screaming, “I can’t be perfect, I can just be me!”

Later, she and I had a private exchange that ended in hugs and tears. She apologized again and told me how beautiful and chic I am. Which surprised me because I thought she thought I was a dork.

I told her that I’m always praising her wonderful body for the way it is. And it means a lot if she would do the same for me. That even though I’m older, my thighs are dimpled, my butt jiggles when I run, and my boobs look like sad, sad strawberries left in a food dehydrator too long, I still need acceptance. I work for how I look. I try to take care of myself and do things for my health, inside and out.

And then I realized, I need to stop describing myself with these words- flabby, jiggly, strawberries…

I think she saw me as a woman at that moment, and not just her mom. I’m hoping it was a breakthrough. This is when the tears came and we hugged it out.

I want us all to have these breakthroughs. To be forgiving of each other and ourselves. To know that if you are doing what you can to eat reasonably well, get in some exercise and look after yourself- you don’t have to look like Gisele Bundchen or Jennifer Aniston or Kate Beckinsale. Do I try to improve how I look? You bet. Here’s one way I’ve done it- read here.

I want to be sinewy and sleek. Toned and taut. But hey, I’m okay if I’m not those things. Remember this post about me in my bikini? Am I Fat?  I’m a little soft and squishy, but I think I look damn good.

I want you to say that about yourself too. I want you to look in a mirror and realize that you look damn good. Whatever you’re trying to change- if it’s for your health and strength- keep doing it. Great! If it’s because you think you need to because of what 3% of other gals in this world look like, then pause, and tell yourself how good looking you are right now in THIS moment. Not tomorrow. Not after your diet. Now.

And dear sweet Emma; you are beautiful now and you will be beautiful in 30 years when you have the same stretch marks and cellulite that I have. And I hope you have a child that tells you that you are the most wonderful woman who is beautiful inside and out, just like you told me that night.

 

 

 

Just shut the ef up about how my kid looks, okay?

If I get my kid a hair cut or not, it’s none of your gads dang beeswax.

Owen hasn’t had a buzz cut since he was 5 years old. He’s 9 now. He likes his hair a long short. It’s short, but it lays a good 5 inches from his scalp. He just likes it kind of moppy.

Every since the haystack hair of preschool days started bothering him, he wears it longer vs. shorter.

Who cares? Right?

Except every dang blessed person needs to point this out to him. Stop already.

First there’s the grandparents. “Well hey son, your hair is getting kinda long there, when are you going to get a hair cut? I can barely see your eyes.

Then Owen will make a tear filled plea, “I wish kids at school would stop talking about my hair”, he’ll cry.

“Why do they talk about your hair?”, I ask.

“They say I look like a girl!”, he’ll cry.

Huh? Ya look like a boy to me kid. What, with your sports jersey, high tops and all that fart talk! So I tell him to never mind and it will all be okay, like any mom does, right?

Then there’s the discussion about his weight-

Did I mention Owen is skinny? He is. His dad is really skinny. Always has been. I mean, like lanky lean Russell Brand skinny. But without the cocaine addiction and long hair.

Owen will grow up to be just like his dad I’m sure. A blond version of his dad. Healthy, tall, lean, a good runner, great at soccer, super coordination, good balance. Yeah, but what do people talk about- how skinny he is.

Thanks people. You know what that does to him? It makes him feel like he’s not good enough being just who he is. It makes him feel like he needs to change to conform to some other ‘normal’ that people seem to picture him in.

How many times I have to give him the pep talk because he’s standing on the scale wondering when he’ll gain 5 pounds. Sure, lots of kids at school are chubby. Do we talk about the chubby kids? No. That would be mean. But telling my kid he needs to eat a cheeseburger because he’s like a bean pole, is okay? No. It’s not.

Yes- this is my son we are talking about. Not my daughter. My daughter who is 12 and you would think would be obsessing over her body, isn’t like this. She’s petite as well but I think she’s learning to appreciate her size, thank God!

Owen is only 9. He’s still getting there.

I tell him, when he stands on the bathroom scale and asks me if he can have a steak so he’ll gain some weight, “Owen, do you know how great it is that you are so lean and light? You know when you do a breakaway in soccer and you run with that ball like the wind? Remember that. That is what you are made for. Not how you look, not how big your muscles are, or a number on the scale. You just keep being you.”

And then he sighs and says, “okay, can I have ice cream?” Yes, son, after your dinner.

Remember what you say to a child. Even a child that is not your own. The words you say to them stay in their little minds and create a truth, a reality that might not be necessary for them to even know or hear. I remember everything said to me growing up about how I looked. And it’s still etched in my brain looking at my 40 year old self. The good and the bad.

This isn’t a, Woe is Me My son Is So Sensitive, post. It’s a, Think of the Words You Choose Towards Children post.

 

 

Am I Fat?

Well I’ll save you the trouble of answering that. No, I’m not.

But I still struggle with how I look, as does 99 % of the females in this country do too. I want to focus on my inner beauty. I do. But most of the time I’m a little distracted by the outer train wreck that is my aging self and I forget these important things.

I need to tell myself,  I’m okay. You need to tell YOURSELF that you’re okay. But some things in the media have been bothering me and I will get them off my chest.

Sports Illustrated swim suit model, Kate Upton, has been called fat. Fat?  Hmm, here’s a picture of her-

I’m sorry, who’s complaining?

and here-

How many folks would let her eat crackers in their bed? Show of hands please.

And here’s a blog about what the hell is wrong with people out there calling her fat. I knew about ProAna, (how-to Anorexia website) but I didn’t know about Thinspirational lingo. Gag me. And not in the Bulimia way folks.

 

So when I ask, Am I fat? the answer is still no. But I would be considered a plus size model in the industry. Plus size!  I waver around a solid size 6. My jeans are sometimes an 8, because they’re jeans people!  So Plus size? I don’t even shop at Lane Bryant. Why would I be Plus size if I don’t wear Plus size?  I’m an average size 5’6″ , one hundred and firthnmumpteen pounds.  Even my feet are an average size 8.

My BMI is healthy, my proportions are right- I’m like 34, 27, 38. Okay, I’m 32, 28,39. Whatever. It depends on the time of the month. However, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, can help with the dimples, dots, divets, veins, stretch marks and pimply pale skin that is me. Between the barnacles, skin tags, 3rd nipples…did I just say that? I mean, my dermatologist says it’s just my skin overactive in the mammalian variety, whatever.. ANYWAY, it’s not pretty.

 

I am not a plus-sized, woman. I am a healthy, 40 year old, soft and squishy mom of 2!

Comments from people on Kate Upton article read,  ‘oh, she’s pretty, but she could tone up a bit’. Really people? You are going to knock a woman for being a bit, uhm, womanly? Reading fashion magazines and beauty magazines is dumbing down our senses. We are conditioned to see size zero perfectly airbrushed models that DON’T EXIST in the real world! Nit picking over every fold, inch, pudge or dimple is dangerous. Stop seeing just the hole when there’s the entire donut to focus on! A donut with chocolate icing and extra sprinkles that is so wonderful, you forget there’s a hole.

So here- tell me I’m fat. Go on, I dare ya. (Okay, please don’t. Yeah, thanks.)

Would it be fun to be a svelte, tone, size 2? Yes.  But I’m glad I’m HEALTHY, STRONG, and HAPPY!

I’m 40 and freaking fantastic!

Take that stupid magazines- you can suck my 3rd nipple. (DID I JUST SAY THAT?)

Skinny guys rule.

*And just let me say, I don’t mean fat people don’t rule, or regular, average size people don’t rule. It’s just for the sake of my skinnier than normal husband- okay?

In defense of skinny people that wish they weren’t so thin- this post is for you. (Seriously, not many have sympathy for you.)

Also, this is a chance for me to complain needlessly about the skinny people I live with. My husband and two children. I’m a size 6/8 and I’m the fat one. Please don’t take this the wrong way- I don’t want anyone griping at me for my gripes. You try living with Jack Sprat.

This will also be categorized under posts that my husband will roll his eyes at.

My husband is 6’2″ and about 150 pounds or so.  He’s 41 and has weighed the same since 1988. It’s really a freak of nature how he stays so thin. That, or he has a tapeworm.

Try being around a guy that is skinnier than you after you’ve passed week 16 of a pregnancy. I outweighed him most of the last 12 years. It’s a bitch.

I’m sorry James.

I’m always complaining about how I would like to lose 10 pounds. I USED to have a fast metabolism. And it’s not slow as a sloth slow, but it isn’t what it used to be. Pregnancy changed all that. I could put away a Mexican dinner at one setting. I barely exercised and you could see my ribs. I wore a size 2 easily. Now I fight for every pound to NOT gain. I have practically eliminated alcohol intake, have become a ‘sort of vegan’(The Reluctant Vegan). Work out. A few times a week. I definitely can do better. I love carbs. I love bread and corn. Popcorn, corn chips, tortilla chips. Corn is the bane of my muffin top. Bread is too. White bread sometimes with butter, but not since giving up dairy. Avocados are my new vice. With chips of course.  Curse them. My metabolism has predictably slowed. I’m almost 40. It’s bound to happen.

I remember in my 20s feeling upset over zits I had. Not serious acne, just troublesome, gross white heads on my chin. Ugh. It drove me nuts. I would make deals with God to clear up my skin. I would ask him if I could be 10 pounds heavier if I just had clear skin. My skin is clear now. What is the statute of limitations on deals with God?

Then there’s tapeworm boy (I’ll explain this later.): James will have a bowl of ice cream EVERY night. He can eat a bag of chips while he watches a football game. He never eats breakfast and he rarely exercises- hello? Two of Dr. Oz’s rules for losing weight- he breaks! He puts sour cream and cheese on everything. He can eat a box of Kraft mac and cheese. But then on the flip side- he’ll ‘forget’ to eat. Yeah, that’s such bull shit! He’ll work from home, have a latte in the morning, forget to eat, then at about 2 in the afternoon realize he’s famished. See? Total bull shit. Who does that? I am starved by 11 am and need 2nd breakfast like a Hobbit or something.

There was a time about 20 years ago he tried to bulk up. He protein loaded and worked out all the time. I think he put on about 5 pounds of muscle in about 4 months. Waaa, waa, waa. (That’s me fake-crying.)

I hate when his side of the family makes a big deal about his thinness. As if it’s something new. When was he ever chubby? Never!

It seems like Owen is following in James’ skinny footsteps. He’s a bean pole with no meat on him. A Jack Sprat type like his dad. He doesn’t like being asked about why he’s so skinny. James doesn’t really like it either. It’s not fun to poke fun at anyone’s appearance regardless if they’re skinny or fat. (“Real” women have curves- Really …?)

Recently, James is embracing his skinniness. Especially since his peers are starting that tire around the middle.  His brother jokes that he has a tapeworm. This makes total sense. He can only eat this much and NOT gain weight, if he was feeding a creature in his abdomen like Alien. Not to worry, he doesn’t exhibit any other signs of having a parasite. His cholesterol is safe, especially for his age (40s), and he’s otherwise healthy. So when we go out to dinner and he orders his Fettucini Alfredo with a side of garlic bread and a ceasar salad with extra cheese, he pats his tummy and says, “gotta feed the tapeworm”. Oh geez.

Well alright then. Hey, skinny guys rule. (James’ motto)

Plus, in 20 years when he’s 60, I think it will catch up with him. Now we just need to figure out his Mcdreamy head of hair. He’s had the same hair since high school too. Like I said- the guy is a freak of nature. In a nice way though. And I wouldn’t change a thing. Love you babe!

Some cute and skinny famous guys:

Andrew Garfield- cute, skinny, and English (oh and hair like James too!)

David Beckham- I'm not crazy for tats, but again- cute, skinny, English

Team Edward. Twilight haters hush up. Cute, skinny, English. Hmmm, I'm sensing a pattern here.

Adrien Brody. I'm not a huge fan. But of this picture I am. Oh, and not English. Skinny but ripped.

Cute. Skinny. not English or famous- but my favorite for sure. Gorgeous.

‘REAL’ women have curves. Really? So what are us skinny bitches then?

I’m not saying I’m skinny. I’m not saying that women should be curvy. I’m saying that when we say phrases like, “Real women have curves”-  then doesn’t that just make the skinny women wonder what makes them a real woman?

I know a lot of beautiful women of all shapes. Not morbidly obese. Just skinny to curvy. Short and tall.  Just your garden variety of size 0′s to 14′s.

There was a recent blogger’s Facebook wall, Mom’s who Drink and Swear, that posted a Daily UK article on a size 12 model, which featured a picture of what’s considered plus-size, and the typical size 0 model next to her. Hundreds of comments on the Facebook page ensued of different women defending their opinions on what is beautiful. Curvy women defending their curves, and skinny women defending their skinnyness, athletic women, women who work out, maintain a thin appearance- all of them. They all had opinions. Here’s what: Our culture defines skinny as pretty for magazines, and heavy as unattractive. Pretty is also zit free skin, smooth-frizzless hair, whiter teeth, glowing less pasty skin…. the list goes on. And yeah- it’s pretty much true. So why do we get so up in a tizzy over skinny vs. fat?

Why should the curvy size 14 ladies have to defend the fact that if they are 5’10″ being over 160 pounds is the norm. Gals that are a natural size 2, ones that have metabolisms like thoroughbreds, shouldn’t be made to feel they are inadequate because people think they aren’t eating. It’s nobody’s damn business!

Here’s a confession. I don’t want to be fat. I’m a size 6 and it irks me that if I were to walk in to a model agency they would call me a Plus size model because I’m not stick thin. I don’t want to be called Plus Size. I’m average. Thin according to the American average. I like feeling thin. I like the way my clothes look, I like the way I feel. So what? Sue me. But I have no business being a model either. I don’t walk in to Boeing and decide I’d like to start designing airplanes.

I have tall friends that know when they aren’t at their physical best. Or, who are very comfortable being tall, curvy and full figured- not fat. Healthy, proper BMI, all the medical stats check. But their physique supports a curvy figure. Plain and simple.

I think what it is for me, I like the look of muscle. I like when I see muscle definition on my legs or arms. It says strength. It says, I’ve been working on something. I’ve been doing something. I can run a 5k, I can climb stairs, I can swing on a trapeze. It’s a reflection of all the things I’m capable of. When I see flabby flesh, squishy thighs and thick arms (on me, mind you), I think of what I should be doing. How I shouldn’t be wasting my time. That if it means so much to me, why not just make it happen?

So in closing. Skinny people- don’t look down on the curvy gals and say they need to shape up. And curvy girls, don’t look at a skinny girl and say- go eat a cheeseburger. Because I know girls who eat cheeseburgers and still are ridiculously small. Instead, say, ‘hey, your eyes are pretty in that color sweater.’ OR, ‘I love the way you smile.’ OR ‘thanks for laughing with me and not at me’.

Saying something is made real over something else, isn’t really fair and continues the ‘I’m better than you’ cycle. It’s like saying, ‘REAL SMART people wear glasses’, OR ‘REAL dancers are black’, OR ‘REAL good food is only French’. See what I mean?

THIS is what we should teach our daughters. Oh, and our sons, because if they are someone’s husband one day, we don’t want them to make their wives feel insecure about their image. That’s a whole different topic…

 

This woman is gorgeous.

Seriously? Why does she need to be considered 'plus'. How about smokin'?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm assuming she's healthy.

 

I'm concerned for this girl though.

Buy my book!

Literally, working my ASS off.

Yep. I’m going to the gym. SHIIIT. I have to admit, it’s the only thing to get my ass in these jeans. Cuz here’s the shiz, peeps. Why am I talking like Snoop Dogg, I have no idea.  I am on a very limited shopping budget. We are saving for a family trip to Europe this summer. I need to save my pennies and not buy new clothes. So in the effort of not looking like Mariah Carey stuffed in a sausage casing- I need to work out.

The fact is- I’ve tried vitamins, low calorie intake, the nap diet- (I made that up, it’s where you nap and burn calories sleeping. It beats eating a whole cake in one setting) and just casually walking the dog. I went up a size. Yep. So while a lot of you are saying, ‘yeah, no shit sherlock, doing nothing gains weight’, I thought if I just did like French women and nibbled a little here and there, I would fit into Chanel off the runway. Insert snort through nose disbelief sound here.

Not to sound like Dr. Oz, your mom, your doctor, or that damned annoying Jillian Michaels- working up a sweat helps you feel better. Period. Oh, and that reminds me, it helps your periods. It’s true. It’s a vicious cycle of feeling like a slug, not working out because you’re feeling like a slug, time of the month comes, you’re feeling like a slug, on and on it goes.

Exercise helps with migraines. I don’t know why, I just have less when I burn a sweat at the gym a few times a week. It lowers your blood pressure, helps your heart, helps your endorphins. And yes, endorphins are those little happy molecules that apparently all you sorry saps out there reading my blog, need more of. Including me.

I also read somewhere more exercise helps with better sex. I will spare comments on this subject. I think if James worked out too- there would be something to write here. Since I’m doing all the work…let’s just say…I’m doing all the work. Ba da bump.

Oh, what else? Cancer. Yes ladies, and gents, exercising reduces your risk of cancer. And if you’re having a glass of wine each night to help your heart, you’re upping your risk of breast and ovarian cancer. I know, that sucks. So work out, and you can off-set that factoid.

AND, it helps build bone mass so we don’t end up looking like our grandmas all hunched over. Posture ladies- it’s true. We suck at it. If we were put in a time machine and transported to the 50s we’d be fat slobs slouching around with our muffin tops hanging over our pajama jeans. You know those women’s health and fashion magazines that say standing up straight makes you look 5 lbs lighter? Well, they’re right! It does. I can’t stand to see a pretty girl hunched over. Suck in your gut, squeeze your bottom and throw back your shoulders. What are you afraid of?? Okay, I’m scaring myself because I sound like Miss Minchin in A Little Princess.

I’m not preaching here, I’m just sharing. I’ve read all the articles, all the magazines and there’s no short cuts. So enjoy, don’t kill yourself, and work out for reasons that are more than skin deep- like your brain, your heart, your uterus, your boobs, your bones. Those are good reasons, right?

Remember this from “Friends”?

Hint- I’m Phoebe.

This will not be my form of working out. Not that James wouldn't mind.

Again, not me. Don't be intimidated. Just Do It.