I go to the gym every morning right after I throw my kids out of the car while it’s still moving drop my kids off at school.  Today was no different (although I will say they landed much better today).  So here I am, minding my own business (who believes this?) and I catch a glimpse of a man with an extended belly on one of the 100 TV screens going across the wall.  (Seriously, I am all for a bit of TV but jeez louise!)

First, I have to say I do not watch TV.  Not my thing.  So it’s a big deal that I “caught” this news story while it was on.  Second, I loathe ANYTHING fitness on TV—hence my last post—so to know I stopped long enough to know what it was about is a miracle.  But there is a trainer out there somewhere who was a hot body but has purposefully gained 80 pounds so he could see what his clients are currently going through and to inspire them along as he loses it with them.

I truly applaud your efforts and your honesty about how hard this has been but volunteering to be heavy is not the same thing as being heavy and judgment against heavy men is no where NEAR as bad as judgment against heavy women.

Ok…my mind is everywhere right now so let me get this out slowly.

1. WOW!!  Are YOU full of yourself or what?  Now, granted…he admits in the clip that he did not expect to go through the emotional stuff that he has gone through but STILL!  WOW!  Ahh-Row-Gance!
2. The majority of his clients are most likely women (we are 80% of the training market) so the point would have been made better if his WIFE did it but I’m sure she told him to go fly a kite and where to fly it too!!
3. This is only relevant if he is stressed to the max, has 2 kids hanging off his leg and was infused with estrogen when we weren’t looking.
4. This is the hugest smack in the face to anybody who has gained a ton of weight.  There are 2 kinds of weight gain: 0-20 and sometimes up to 30lbs is normally a case of “I have no idea how that happened” and all you need to do is get your head out of your behind and get going.  Then there is “30 and above” which is more of an indication that something isn’t right somewhere.  Could be emotional, could be physical, most likely it’s both.  But the point is, you don’t get to 80 pounds overweight because you love bread.

ANYBODY?  CAN I GET A WITNESS HERE?

I am having a MOMENT right now in my office.  Oh we have SO MUCH to talk about!!

When’s the last time you looked at a man’s weight loss and got inspired? PLEASE!  I love my husband with everything I have.  We have been together 24 years this coming February.  There is no other for me.  But when he gets up in the morning on a Monday and says he’s up a few pounds and needs to do something about it and then on TUESDAY—read that…TUESDAY—says he’s down 4 pounds since the day before, I want to impale him with stick of salami!  Anyone?!  I could be talking to him and he will lose weight as I’m speaking:  “Baby…did you…just drop…a few pounds…while I was…NEVERMIND.  Pick those few pounds up off the carpet before it leaves a stain.  Jerk.”  GRRRR!

Losing weight the first time around is EASY!  Piece of cake!!  Seriously!  You are almost afraid to jump out of bed in the morning for fear a piece of your butt might go flying!!  But every time you gain back a few of those pounds you lose, it becomes harder and harder to take off again.  Suddenly the tricks no longer work:  cutting out carbs, eating just chicken and green beans for 5 weeks, lots of cardio…you name it.  Then it turns from shock to frustration and from frustration to panic and from panic to either depression or depravity.  Either way, it’s not a good scene.

Oh it is time, ladies, to learn how the body really works for us.  To understand what it takes to get a fit body, be fit and stay fit and what to do if we deviate a little and want to come back to being fit without selling our soul to the scale.  And to realize there is a WOMAN attached to that goal.  You know…one who has feelings…one who is self conscious…one who just wants this to be over…

I want to be very clear as I wrap this up.  First, I hold no ill will towards this man and truly, truly pray that someone is blessed by his journey.  I honestly know that he has no idea how he is coming across to those of us who work with women all time and that he has the best intentions with his efforts.  If you leave knowing anything after reading today’s post, I pray you know that.  Second, there is a battle out there, ladies.  It’s called sanity and it is a fleeting target.  Try to get through a day without losing your mind watching all the madness out there.  Pour that frustration into a sensible, hard workout and a clean eating day and you will make it through.  And thirdly, I promise I will begin to tell you how to lose body fat, truly be healthy–not just thin and sick and keep your sanity while doing it over and over and over and over (did I say over?) again.  Cool?

Ciao for now!!  Woop woop!!

Every so often I get the urge to let y’alls into my bizarre mind. Knowing it is a scary and dangerous place to be, I try not to venture there but sometimes I just feel compelled. Today is one of those days—and I promise I’ll keep it brief because this is not what my post is about. But I had to tell you this because it explains why when you work with us and you have to speak with me every week, I pick up on things you think I have no idea about and then I call you on it.

I have a small obsession with pens. Yes, pens…and journals and notebooks but for this story only the pens matter. In my office, on my desk is a myriad of pens. All kinds of pens of every manner BUT…they all are part of a complete set. In other words, I won’t buy a single pen. I won’t open a pack of pens and only know where 2 of them are. I won’t lose the cap to a pen. I won’t let the pen separate from the notebook it’s been assigned to. Are you nervous yet b/c it gets more bizarre than this. So on my desk are “sets” of pens. There must be at least 8 or 9 sets open, laid out flat, in order of the way they were in the pack and etc. Some still in the pack if it had some kind of special plastic wrapper or something. SAD. Who’s feelin’ this with me?

The other day I sit in my office to get some work done and something’s wrong. Not quite sure what it is but I sense something’s not right. I start to look around my office like a deer in the forest that smells trouble but nothing’s jumping out at me. All of a sudden I realize a pen is missing from one of the sets (mind you, there’s at least 8 sets on my desk in various locations.) I look all over my office: under my desk, under my books on my desk, in the pen cups (this is where the dead sets go) that are on my desk but I can’t find the purple one from my ballpoint pens. I find nothing. I suspect my kids since their desks are right outside my office but I honestly think to myself, “They know better.” I start searching any ways and I realize my husband is watching TV downstairs. He looks at me like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar and I see him…and then past him…and there is my pen. And he realizes that I see him…and then the pen and this is all within 3 seconds of each other—like this secret meeting of the pen people or something and he says in a super incredulous voice, “Did you just come out of your office to look for this pen?” My face at this point is silently screaming, “Oh no you didn’t”…alongside, “You better put that back when you’re done.” And he starts this loud rant of, “I cannot believe with the 1800 pens you have on your desk in all the little piles, that you could figure out that one of them was missing. You can look for your car keys every day because you have no idea where you put them, but you mean to tell me you knew one pen was missing?” Um…yeah. Just keep this story in mind when I call you ladies on something and you are hoping I didn’t notice. Haha!

This week I want to know one thing from everyone: why, as women, are we so cruel to other women?

First, let me preface this question by saying that I do not mean cruel in the sense of hurting each other’s feelings. That’s a different blog post for a different blog somewhere on the internet. I am asking this in the context of food and exercise.

If I am on a diet, my friends are on a diet—or I am going to nag them any time they do something enjoyable.

If I am not on a diet and my friends are, I am going to get them to go down hard with me as I order dessert at a restaurant.

If I am tired and don’t want to work out, I am going to convince them to come to the mall with me and skip their work out by nagging them into next week.

Basically, misery loves company. Why do we do this? Why are we not rah-rah-shish-coom-bah’ing them to keep up the good fight of faith while we languish on the sidelines?

The other day I walked into a favorite store of mine. I go there often so they know who I am—not to mention I’m hard to miss. I am a big personality, I am incredibly happy and I love to spread love. So when I go in there, I am like Norm from Cheers.

This particular day I was the only one in the store so as I walked in and headed toward the counter, I began to speak right away. “Hey girl, how are you? I haven’t seen you—“ I suddenly cut my sentence short because I noticed a box of chocolate brickle type candy to my right and I scream—literally, “Oh my goodness who brought this in here and what are you trying to do to me?!” I mean scream—did I mention I am loud? And she laughs (probably out of both amusement and fear because there’s a big afro coming at her in 3d and it is being preceded by a big mouth) and motions for me to have some and says something to the tune of, “Don’t leave me here to eat this all by myself.”

WOW. How can she do me like that? I’m a good customer. I pay my bill on time. I give them great business. And on the counter is 45 min on an arc trainer, 2 weeks of dieting and an increase in my dress size all packed in this little white box. A decision needs to be made here: do I go down hard or do I stick to my guns. Here’s my thought process…

It’s just a small piece. What’s the big deal?
You don’t need it. Nor did you work it into this week. It will make you want more.
I would tell a client to live a little and have it. Life is too short and calorically it’s negligible.
You just had a post about what not to have as a cheat meal—don’t be a jackass.
I love chocolate/caramel/heath bar crunch kind of brickle. Satan dropped this off 2 min before I arrived. Rat bastard.
You can get this anywhere, at any time, knock it off.
Wait…is that peanut brittle under there?

Who understands that all of that conversation shot through my head in less than 2 seconds while I was still being a big head of uncontrollable hair in her store? HOLY MOLY! My simple plea is this ladies:

We must support the cause. We need solidarity. Just say no to samples of candy given by honest, hard working store clerks.

These intermittent attempts to bring each other down are just so unfair and exhausting. I promise I won’t do this to you, why must you do it to me? Of course I am being dramatic—that’s my M.O. but there is a spirit of truth here. On one hand we need to learn moderation and have a treat here and there, on the other hand we need to keep that kind of stuff to ourselves and give big afro’d women a break from time to time. KWIM??

In all seriousness the big take away here is know your limits. Have it if you know you can shut it down—don’t if you know it’s going to mess you up for the week. But calorically, a piece is not going to do any harm so please do not let that be the reason why you say no.

I will be spending today putting the rest of the finishing touches on the new website coming for Trans4mation Station. If you have the answer to this problem, would you mind putting it below? Somebody shed some light on this conspiracy, please! Slinking off to my office…defeated…because that was peanut brittle under there…yum…but hopeful…because of full knowledge of where all my pens are…hehe…woop woop!

I always say this and I truly mean this: I love what I do. I have been doing this for a very long time and as I grow older and wiser to the ways of you crazy ladies, I have learned a thing or two about food choices. One of the most asked questions of me besides ‘how can I tighten my bum?’ is “What can I have as a cheat meal?” Depending on where you are in your dieting, my answer typically is, “Anything you want. But if I was you, I wouldn’t have…”

CHEESE
I would avoid cheese like a strange substance on a park bench—and I mean that literally! Cheese begets cheese. Are you following me? But more importantly, cheese is an experience. Mostly a texture and salt experience, cheese feels good on the palette. It validates whatever meal you are eating. Not a fan of veggies? Put cheese on them and suddenly you can eat your veggies, your friend’s veggies, veggie platters, okra—who cares!

Of course whenever I tell someone to avoid cheese they ask about cottage cheese, which by the way does not count. I am only referring to hard cheeses so cottage, ricotta and feta do not count as cheeses to avoid. Everything else, though, will send you down the river without paddles, fast!

You cannot recover from a meal with cheese. Pizza for instance will set you back at least 2 days, possibly 3. If you think you are going to have pizza Saturday night and steel cut oats on Sunday morning and not notice the difference, you are fooling yourself. When I say ‘set you back’, I do not mean by weight gain. I mean by focus. Suddenly, everything needs cheese. Your eggs, your tuna, yourself at 4 in the afternoon when you are suddenly alone with a stick of Crackerbarrel cheddar cheese and are unsure how half of it is missing even though it was new when you took it out of the fridge. You know, everything. Honestly, spare yourself the pain of overshooting your cheat/treat meal (call it what you like, it is what it is)and avoid cheese.

ICE CREAM
WOW! Now here’s the beginning of Armageddon. Forget what people say about 2012 coming, your downfall is contained in a pint-sized package managed by 2 guys and a cow—Ben and Jerry. I have 3 words for you: DON’T DO IT. I would rather sharpen my pinky in an electric pencil sharpener before I would ever have ice cream as a cheat meal. Now first of all I have to be honest…I do not like ice cream. It doesn’t do it for me and I could truly take or leave it. But the rest of you would sell your first born to the Kathy Gifford College of Sweater Making located in luxurious downtown New Delhi just to get a ½ cup of the sinful treat in a flavor you may not even like. You want some fun? People watch at a restaurant and look for a woman who has ordered ice cream for dessert. The only thing more scandalous is the awkward scene from When Harry Met Sally—and if you haven’t seen it, do so to know what I am talking about.

Ice cream is a total assault of the palette. It’s a beat down that you are not equipped to handle half way through your dietary regimen that you so proudly have been enduring. Texture: heavenly. Not only is it smooth and creamy, it’s ice cold. Taste: outrageous. Stuffed with just about anything you can think of, ice cream is an aggregation of flavors. Experience: unlike any other. If you go for a sundae, you have hot, cold and sweet at the same time and that is just hard to resist. Here…take these nails…you’ll need them for your coffin.

What ice cream does is make everything in your life pale in comparison. Suddenly your husband isn’t attractive anymore. Calling him Chunky Monkey doesn’t make him any more appealing than he was before you dropped your face in the container. Good try, though. You almost wished that uncomfortable and unpleasant things came with ice cream: “Hi Ms. Jones, good to see you here for your annual exam. Here is a robe to change into and you will find a dish of buttercrunch ice cream with sprinkles in the examination room to help you through the appointment. Enjoy.” Women would be lined up with all kinds of fake ailments if this ever happened. The medical insurance system would be thrown for a loop with false claims left and right.

My point: it is so hard to return to a focused diet the day after ice cream that it is not funny. Nothing tastes good. Nothing shuts down the craving. Nothing compares to peanut butter mocha fudge almond praline with sprinkles and whip cream on top except mmm…yum… baked chicken with broccoli. Why didn’t I think of that? (total sarcasm there)
When you hit maintenance, have some ice cream. Til then, avoid it like the rails on the staircases of the subway station. Ewww.

ALCOHOL
I am going to make this one brief because it’s simple. One drink makes every seem ok. From eating your whole fridge to going on a second date with someone you would never go on a second date with, alcohol makes you lose your senses. And then on top of that, it makes you feel like crap the next day so that you indulge even more. We have all learned this lesson the hard way, but let’s try to help those out who may not know: avoid this!

I have a post on here about this and you should read it when you have time.

In the mean time, choose your cheat meals wisely. They really do make a difference in your diet experience.

If you hang out with me for a week you are in for an adventure simply because my life is crazy and honestly, I love every minute of it. I have a good amount of people that I see during the week as well as those that I get to love all over through our online services and our bootcamp class. But having that eclectic of a week somehow puts me in the wildest situations that either provide a really good laugh or give me some material for the “odd fodder” of the week. This past week was no different although what I am about to mention happened to me and not to one of y’alls.

So glad this happened to me and not to you! 

Looks Like I Picked A Bad Week
…to step on the scale at my doctor’s office. Yes, you heard me. What’s with the doctor scales of the world? By habit alone I weigh myself every day. Unlike some of you crazy ladies, it doesn’t bother me what it says so I can get on it every day and read the number as if I was checking the weather. It fluctuates just the same as it does for you (please read that again—I feel as if that was a word to deliver some of you out of scale bondage every day so for me it’s just a matter of Que sera, sera. So I have a doctor’s appointment yesterday and the lovely nurse walked me down the Hall of Judgment to step on the scale. Automatically my mind begins to think about the setup. First, I am at a “woman’s” appointment. Need I say more? So that means the only clients that these folks have are women…why is the scale in the hallway? Again, this isn’t for me. My mind starts to think of all of you that I speak with every week. This is NOT a good setup. A man set this office up and then left it for women to run and they, feeling boxed in like a velvet rope, stuck with it because I can’t think of one of my clients who would want to step on a scale in a busy hallway that has a digital readout large enough for Stevie Wonder to see. Anybody hearing me on this one?

As nice as she was, the clipboard gave her true intentions away.

She motions for me to get on the scale and I realize that she has the same outfit on as the grim reaper. What is that about? Regardless, I hop on. Ladies, it read ten pounds more than it did 3 hours ago in my bathroom.

Yes. Ten. Pounds. More.

I didn’t say a word. I smiled at the nurse, checked the brand of the scale and made a mental note about it and then I looked up in time to catch the look of judgment from Ginny Reaper the nurse. Now was she really judging me? No. But that scale read ten pounds more than what I am and at THAT moment SOMETHING was judging me!

All I could think about is what that phone call would like…

“Hey girl, what’s up? How are you this week?”
No hi, no lead in, can hear heavy breathing on the phone.
“Jodi. The scale read ten pounds more at my doctor’s office than what I am at my house scale.” Voice is at an alarming pitch that within the pitch seems to scream, ‘You better pull the best trainer rhetoric you have stored in that creative mind of yours or I’m about to lose it in 3 languages.’
I try to interject, although at this time I am beginning to panic and I don’t even know why.
“Girl, what did I tell you about the scales in doctor’s offices? They always read at least 5 pounds mo—“
I get cut off by a shrill tone that now has escalated to a fever pitch which sounds like, ‘I’ve been waiting all week to sink my teeth into you , don’t tell me anything you told me before. I am no longer rational.’
“Yes, but Jodi”, oh I’m in trouble now, “it read ten pounds more. Not 5—10. How can that be?” You and I know that last question was not one that was to be answered because I would most likely try to open my mouth to speak and she’d just cut me off right then and continue on…
“Does that mean 5 of that is mine? Am I really up 5 pounds? That can’t be water. I don’t understand. Which one is right? How can 2 scales differ that much? Isn’t it a professional scale seeing as it’s in my doctor’s office? Isn’t that the most accurate? Have I weighed that much all along? I can’t go on vacation now/I can’t get married/I can’t go to work…now.” These statements are coming faster than the 5 pounds she gained from the home scale to the doctor’s scale. At this point I choose the easy way out and I gnaw off of a limb with a wild animal I found in my backyard, claimed medical emergency and told her I’d call her back after the limb was re-attached.

Out of my imagination and back to my doctor’s office…

Second, Ginny now leads me to the patient room where I am to now wait for the doctor to come.

By myself. After I have just been judged.

I suddenly realized that there were no sharp objects in the room anywhere. I don’t think that’s by accident. I half expect that they have a room somewhere in the office that when you open the door it goes to nowhere. It’s a cliff and every woman they just put on the scale of judgment heads over there some time during their appointment and hops off. I bet if I went into the basement of doom there would be a pile of women on top of each other, writhing in agony while screaming loud screams of torment about “10 pounds” and “how could it be?”

“Beautiful scene.  And below you will find a heap of women who jumped off after getting on the scale at their doctor’s office.  Don’t get too close to the edge.  Let’s move on folks, we have a tight schedule.”

I truly sat there thinking two things: 1) I have to write about this and I pray they see the humor in this and our behavior as women and 2) that’s not cool of my doctor’s office to be that out of whack for a scale measurement. Heck yeah I am sticking with their scale being wrong! Now granted, I was dressed when they weighed me and I had already eaten but I would have had to have been wearing a bear rug with the bear still in it for crying out loud to make the scale go up by 10 pounds! I am going to be so transparent right now and tell you that that did not bother me because of my weight, that bothered me because of the phone call I would have had to have because of that erroneous piece of metal on the floor! Seriously self centered on this one. But this really drives the point home that it’s just a number and we really cannot live our lives bound up by it.

 Don’t be fooled by this innocent face.  I have gotten some of my best ‘why does the scale read’ training from this fierce woman. 

So what did I do sitting in the office? Text the one person who could seriously feel the drama of the situation…Kas. Tuesday girl. Kas sent me back the best detached lawyer response ever, “Ok well, that’s a bit disconcerting. That really is enough to make you scream.” At first glance you may be thinking that that is a rational, calm response. I have known Kas long enough to know that the following thoughts were flowing through her mind (in no particular order):

What the…
Better you than me…
Right now I am up to my whazoo in tax crap, don’t put that stress on me…
Could that happen?…
Wait, she didn’t tell me which one was the right one…
I’d need some drugs to make it through that appointment…
I’d cry…
If she’s texting me, she must be upset…if Jodi’s upset I’d kill myself…wait, I can’t think about this now, I’m up to my whazoo in tax crap…but was she upset?…

Hahahahaha!! I love Kas. And I honestly do not know if she was really thinking this or not, but I know I’m close!

Ladies, get off the scale. Know it’s just a number. Enjoy your life. It’s too short to be bossed around by a box on the floor. I love you way too much to let that happen.  The email series starts today. You know where to find me. Peace.

Is she not the cutest thing?  Lots of stuff going on in the background.  We’re adding programs, sites, resources, you name it!  Look for this site soon…

 I loathe being sick. I am the biggest baby in the whole wide world and I absolutely cannot stand to be sick. And I have noticed that illness has a funny way of showing up right in the beginning of a new workout adventure. This time is no different. On Monday I started a new thing with timed sets and I had it all mapped out how I was going to do it. Then the hack set in. By Tuesday night I sounded like a seal looking for food in the Boston Aquarium. I can barely sit up to type this but I figured I could make it through a ten minute post.;)
Being sick, though, brings on one of the most tumultuous times in our weekly workout lives. (Let me make sure I specify that because in the grand scheme of life, this means nothing.) Should I or should I not work out?

Really at the heart of this matter is, ‘Am I being a big baby?’ Let me clear this up for you: who cares. Stay your infectious behind home because I probably caught this from one of y’all clowns who were on a mission to work out. Sorry, let me get back to the point. The problem isn’t whether you should work out or not, it’s how much the question torments you all day long before you decide to go or not.

First you hit Web MD. After realizing that you have malaria and issues with your prostate (yes, you’re female), you continue on to other websites. They effectively diagnose you with anything from a sinus infection to full blown whooping cough. After that gets old, you email your girlfriend. See, you’re well enough to go to work and infect others but you may not be well enough to work out. This must be answered! She tells you to go home. You want to listen to her but secretly you feel as if she is trying to sandbag your efforts. You have one eyebrow up right now and you’re not sure you trust her any more. Obviously a side effect of the illness. You decide she’s right and you settle on going home after work. Then your other girlfriend emails you and tells you that she was just sick but during that time she finished a marathon, cleaned her garage out and started quilting. You’re mad as a hornet. You just finished convincing yourself to go home. By now it’s after lunch time at work and you’re exhausted. You’ve expended more energy trying to figure out if you should work out or not than actually working out!

At 5:00pm your head is on fire and you feel defeated. You slowly put your coat on, grab your workout clothes, slink to your car to head to the gym and go for it. You’re not going out like a punk. You’ll just do cardio and that’s it. When you get to the gym, you bring your bag in, change into your clothes and realize you left your workout sneakers at home. So much for being sick and working out. *Sigh*

This is not the only thing in our lives that can consume this much of our time. There are others such as:

Do I have a cheat meal or not?
What do I have for a cheat meal?
Wait, I had a semi cheat this week, should I have another?
I missed a cardio session, do I double up or skip it?
I am going away this weekend, do I risk working out in the hotel gym or do a bodyweight program?
Can I count my blah-blah as blah-blah since I won’t have time to do them separately? Insert functional, yoga, cardio…whatever here.

These issues can suck productivity out of you like a vacuum cleaner in a fish tank. By the time you are done debating them, you don’t even want the cheat meal any more. Shame. We, as women, will never change.

In the mean time, I am going to go lie down. I am not even entertaining the thought of working out today and we’ll see how tomorrow goes, too. There is no debate here. I am sick…and a big baby, too. Woop woop!

I tend to be more serious in my posts although truth-be-told, I really can be quite laid back and funny.  Ok, well maybe I am not all that laid back, but I am working on it….but I can be quite light hearted and funny.  That is why I decided it was time for a less-serious post.  Bear with me, I’m not used to these . 

 The gym is a sacred place for most people.  A place we go to reduce stress, get our sweat on, work towards our goals and shut out the world.  However, I am guessing all of you have experienced those days where it seems like all other gym patrons are out to disrupt your training.  I happened to have this experience last Friday. 

 Let me set the stage.  I get up at 5 am or earlier every day in order to get my training in prior to work.  However, last Thursday I was up until midnight working.  Yep, you heard me, way past my bedtime.  Waking up for the gym 5 hours later just didn’t happen so I knew I’d be lifting with the evening crowd – a thought that makes me shudder on a good day.  My hope, however, was that since it was a Friday, the gym might be less crowded than say a Monday at 5pm. 

 I get to the gym and start my workout with a 4-exercise giant set.  One of the exercises was alternating dumbbell press on a stability ball.  There are more reasons than I feel like getting into as to why I am not a fan of that exercise.  However, it is in my program this month so I popped on my iPod to a mix of Metallica, NIN and Alice in Chains, and turned the volume up all the way.  During my second giant set, while on the stability ball holding dumbbells overhead, I look up to see a woman standing over me talking to me.  I look at here in disbelief.  Lady – I have earphones in, I can’t hear you, I am mid rep-balancing on a stability ball, holding heavy weights overhead; ARE YOU KIDDING ME????? 

 She wouldn’t go away so I dropped the weights, took out my earphones and looked at her.  (insert a lot of sighing and an annoyed look on my face)  I am not joking when she said “You should drop your butt to work your glutes more.”  Utter disbelief washed over my face.  “What?” I asked.  “With your glutes that high, you aren’t working them, drop your butt.”  I now started to become angry.  I was doing a flat DB press on a SB, my hips were in line with my chest/shoulders/head.  I am NOT working my glutes and even if I was, raising them that high does not all of a sudden stop their activation.  Needless to say, I explained to her I was not working my glutes, this is a chest exercise amongst other things.  She tried to push her point again, but saw the look on my face and walked away. 

 REALLY????  How are you going to go up to someone mid rep, earphones in, and start talking to them?

 Well, my day of disruptions was not over.  I then moved on to step-ups with a barbell across my back.  Because the gym was crowded I moved to a location in the gym far away from everyone else.  The only problem was that there was a heavy bag hanging near me.  I was, however, far enough away that anyone using the heavy bag properly would not be bothered by my location. 

 Mid rep two guys come up and decide to start using the heavy bag.  Now, if they thought it would swing near me, they could and SHOULD have waited until I was done with my set and asked me to move.  Did they do this??? NO.  Instead they started punching the bag in a manner that caused it to swing – really swing.  Now, have you ever seen a boxer punch the heavy bag in a manner that goes punch………..swing, swing, swing…….punch?  No, on guy holds the bag while the other goes to town.  The bag does not move!  Clearly these guys had no idea what they were doing.  Well, the darn bag almost took me out!  REALLY?  I am not lying.  Thankfully they only hung around for about 5 minutes. 

 As they left, they threw the gloves they were using back in the equipment box causing the entire box to open up and gloves to fall all over the floor around my feet.  I promise I am not making this up.  As they walked away I took out my earphones and yelled across the gym “You gonna put your stuff away?” When they realized I was talking to them, and after saying they did – and I responded “no you didn’t, look,” they came back over, apologized and cleaned up; probably not because I asked but because the entire gym was now watching. 

 Yes there were two more lovely stories from this gym trip but I will save those for another time.  I will say, however, that despite all of this nonsense, I got in a fabulous lift.

 I honestly believe there needs to be a gym-etiquette book because I am sure I am not the only one who has these experiences!  What about you?  We’d love to hear some of your stories.  Such as the guy who has to shower in cologne prior to working out – every gym has one of those. 

 I actually probably miss seeing most of the shenanigans that go one in the gym.  In an effort to not wear my contacts 12+ hours every day, I often don’t put my contacts in until after I work  out.  I drive to the gym with my glasses on, take them off and train without being able really see much of anything.  This means I can’t see anyone’s face.  Did I mention about 5 of my coworkers go to my gym?  Well, there has been more than one occasion where they have seen me and I have not seen them.  Not until later at work when they say “hey, saw you at the gym this morning” do I realize the person saying hi to me was someone I actually new.  I also have to lean really close to the weight rack to determine how much weight each dumbbell is.  But hey, I still manage to get in a great lift and probably miss-out on much of the craziness that goes on.

I went to my sister’s house yesterday morning and it is a bit of a drive for me, all highway, at least an hour.  It’s Sunday morning so there are very few people on the road but there was enough that you might have to dodge a few slow pokes and avoid a couple of psychos.  Halfway to her house I pick up a psycho.  A woman in a Toyota (relatively new, well kept and nice tires—just sayin’…) decides that she is going to play footsie with me.  She could not decide whether she wanted to be in front of me or behind me.  She would speed up and pass me and then moments later I would find myself passing her—and not because I was trying.  If this was a weekday, I would have ended this nonsense by just blowing past her (and the NASA space shuttle for that matter) all in one swoosh.  I drive a lawn mower for a car so this would have been an effort but I wouldn’t have cared.  I would have thought: “Off with your head!” as I left her 10 car lengths behind.. 

But it’s Sunday morning and I seriously could not have cared less.  I was groggy, enjoying my CD in my car and just loving the drive because there were no cars on the road.  So when she decided to kick it up a notch and pass me for the third time, I let her.  She must have flown by me doing at least 90 and was probably thinking the same thing I would have been thinking had I passed her—‘Off with your head!’.  I was happy to see her go and thought to myself, “I need a good wingman anyways to flush out the staties. I’ll stay close but not too close.”  No sooner did I think that than I saw him pull out from the side of the road, fly up behind her and pull her over.  You know that could have been me.  Gotta love a good wingman.

Do you have a good wingman? 

Technically, my driver friend does not fully count as a wingman because we are supposed to both be in it together for us to each other’s wingmen…but at that moment, she was mine.  And I am wondering, when it comes to dieting, do you have a wingman? 

Seriously, this is not a role to take lightly and just put any ol’ person in the position.  You need to have a friend who has your back so that when you call her up with one hand on the baked chicken breast and the other hand on the Twinkie, she knows what to do.  Dieting is hard.  Dieting with a very distinct purpose of affecting a change in your appearance more than what the general public will do is even harder.  You need someone in the trenches with you who knows how to roll with your mood swings and provide you with good advice when you find yourself leaving your husband for a molten chocolate dessert that he ate without any remorse.  Oh no, you need to really *think* about this role. 

Who is it?  Who is that person that can keep you on track even when you don’t want to be?

You don’t know?  Find them.  Fast.

These people do exist and most of the time they are not your closest friend.  They almost shouldn’t be because it’s going to get rough.  When you just cannot eat another piece of chicken or you want to poke your eyes out if you see another vegetable, they need to step in like Rocky’s trainer and slap you around like a husband in a bad Lifetime movie (such as Julia Robert’s brother who must have starred in at least 10 Lifetime movies—oy!).   Really good friends have a hard time doing that for you.  They typically sympathize with you and end up enabling you:  “You know what, girl…You haven’t had anything in a long time.  Let’s just go to dinner and get something…”  Don’t fall for this.  Get a wingman who will handle you differently:  “Girl, go in your closet and put on those jeans you want to wear.  Oh wait, they don’t fit right?  I didn’t think so.  I’ll see you at the gym in a half hour.  Be ready to do some work.”  Now THAT’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!

It’s January so you are most likely on a mission that’s burning hotter than Aruba with no shade.  But that’s going to fade real soon.  Like…ummm…tomorrow.  So when that happens, you need to be prepared.  Get that wingman in place now. 

She needs to be stronger than you.

She does not have to be {insert here} (skinnier, taller, prettier, etc.).  It’s not about that.  It’s about will.  She’s gotta have it.

She needs to be available.  Don’t pick your second cousin Leslie who just happens to be in jail at the moment.  Yeah she’s tough ‘n’ all but she can only call you Sunday nights after 7pm.  Not good.

She needs to have similar goals because you are riding her mojo. 

Lastly, she needs to know how to get it done.  You don’t want to be wandering in the desert for 40 years with this girl.  You want to get somewhere fast.

Right now it is all about staying on track.  Starting with the end in mind.  Doing your thing.  Getting it done.

Yes, you can do this without a good support network.  You can even do it without a good wingman.  But it won’t be anywhere near as enjoyable so do yourself a favor and go find one.  She’s ready and waiting to boss you around.;)

Or…watch your rear view mirror because whether you like it or not, you may be someone else’s wingman.

Happy Dieting!  Woop woop!:o)

I am a pen fanatic. 

Actually, I am a pen, journal, notebook, audio book, make up and fitness fanatic.  But for right now I’ll just focus on the pens.

Not only am I a pen fanatic, but I am a ‘complete set’ pen fanatic.  So if I find a pen missing from the set of 8, I give the set to my kids and move on to the next set.  Yes, disturbing I know.  Disturbing enough that you are sitting there thinking, “umm..where are you going with this?” 

Well this morning I found a highlighter on my daughter’s desk that was part of a gorgeous set I had.  She essentially mangled it.  I will eventually get over it (after years of therapy, a mini public rant followed by a book deal and a bad reality series off shoot about the incident that doesn’t go anywhere) but it got me t’thinkin’:

Don’t you just hate it when…

            You have a favorite treadmill/elliptical/gauntlet etc. and someone is on it when you get to the gym.

            There is no one else in the gym and someone has to get on the machine right next to you—then turn up the tv!

            Your favorite class instructor is out and you were really looking forward to her class.

            Your gym changes its hours—and you didn’t remember. Boy it’s cold in the morning.

            You are ready to get-it-together-and-start-again-on-Monday-type-deal and you wake up (fill in the blank here: late,     sick, cranky, with a headache, sore, tired, somewhere unknown—sorry, that’s another post).

            Starbucks/Dunks runs out of your favorite coffee flavor or someone makes your coffee all wrong.

            You get to the gym and realize you forgot your sneakers.

            Your gym stops towel service—and didn’t tell you.

            For some reason, everyone is in the shower today and you have an 8am meeting.

            You forget your shampoo—and you realize in the shower.

            You are on a pee marathon (no idea why) and you cannot get anything done in your workout.

            You suddenly hate your playlist.

All of these only occur on Mondays.  It seems as if it happens no other day.  Then you spend the rest of the week using them as the ‘omen’ for your workouts and diet progress saying to yourself…

I would have lost those 2 pounds if:

            My favorite lunch place didn’t run out of chicken at the salad bar (you hate their tuna).

            I didn’t leave my lunch on the table when I was late this morning (see above).

            I liked the substitute instructor who taught for my favorite instructor (see above).

            My Monday wasn’t a total wash (see above).

            I paid attention to the new gym changes.

I could go on for days. 

Finding a way to get past these things makes us who we are or defines us as to who we are not.  You know it’s the holidays and these pitfalls are just lurking around every corner so be aware and be diligent. Do not let them get you down or define the rest of your week.  Mondays are just that, they’re Mondays.  They have nothing to do with Tuesdays, Wednesdays and etc.  So stay focused and stay healthy.

Do you have your most dreaded “I hate it when”?  Or a good gym-story-gone-bad?  Let us know so we can all share in your pain and laughter (and learn how to get around it too). WOOP WOOP!:o)

The hardest thing about exercise is to start doing it. Once you are doing exercise regularly, the hardest thing is to stop it.

Erin Gray

Oh my goodness, is this not the truth!

Have you ever had a day long conversation with yourself as to why, when or how you are going to make it to the gym that day only to wear yourself out emotionally before you get there just talking about it so you don’t go? 

Have you ever determined that today was the day you were going to get back on the wagon and get it done and you pack a great lunch and put it in your gym bag to bring to work—and then leave it at the door?  Or better yet, your alarm didn’t go off.  Or you woke up sick.  Or you got called in early for work….

What is that about?  Is there some kind of Universal Sick Joke out there that just plagues us women with this stuff?  Guys do not go through this!  You know it and I know it.  Somehow they are impervious to wavering.  It’s either they are doing it or they are ok that they are not.  We, on the other hand, will begin a torturous rant in our head that starts out low and gets louder throughout the day like that bad music in Damien: The Omen that ends in a crescendo at night with us declaring war on the gym the next day.

When I am not “on”, my husband can wake up, work out in the cold basement, get the kids ready for school, make their lunches, change the oil in the car, re-finish the driveway and set up the Mid East for world peace talks and I haven’t even decided what gym pants I’m wearing that day—AND THEY’RE ALL BLACK!   What is that about?  What hit me over the head and took my mojo away?

And it happens fast doesn’t it?  One day we are on fire.  We are working out every day, packing our food, getting it together, losing inches, losing weight, losing time…just downright losing!  And then…it happens…who knows what it is—it’s as mysterious as ‘other natural flavors’, but it happens.  WHAMMO!  We can’t get out of bed, we can’t get a rhythm, we hate our food, we feel fat (we still weigh the same, though, go figure!)…what the????

OH THE JOYS AND PERILS OF BEING A WOMAN!!

How do we get back on track?  Become a psycho!

Oh we’ve all done it.  We may not admit it, but we have done it.  We’ve pulled out the big guns and we’ve made a pact with the evil exercise and diet spirits.  It goes a bit like this:

Conversation with yourself….

“What worked before?  Sigh.  What’s killing me now is I cannot focus.  How can I focus…?  No choice.  If I just eat chicken, sweet potato and green beans only for 7 to 10 days that’ll get me back on track! 

I gotta get to the gym.  Ugghhh!  I hate my workout right now. (Mind you it is brand new but this is what us women are plagued with).  I need something new and hard to give me a kick in the arse!  That’s it!  I will do a simulated Iron Man race everyday on the treadmill/bike/wave machine at the gym and then try advanced kettle bell training for martial artists to see if I can hang!  And then if I can make it through that, I’ll be good next week!”

I know I am not the only one.  In fact, not only am I not the only one, some of you are reading this thinking, “Hell, I would have taken it one step further and bought myself a gym bag, a matching outfit and a new lunch container just to seal the deal!”  Although, that does sound good!

So we put our psychosis into action, now what happens?

We become gym rats. 

Now 2 weeks later we have a 5 o’clock shadow, mussied hair and keen resolve that borders on scary.  Now we’re lecturing everybody!  Yes, looking down our nose at others wondering why they couldn’t seem to make the same illegal pact we did with the evil diet and exercise spirits and sell their soul to the green bean!  Are you too good for the green bean??  Woman, focus!  Hop on board with us and just get it over with…you know you want to do it! 

But now you have a new problem.  You are addicted…and you know—and I know—that if you stop, you’re done for.  So you keep going like a hamster in a wheel until someone says something to you that just clicks and gets you back to reality.  Sometimes it’s as simple as, “What the heck is the matter with you, you clown!  Get off the treadmill, it’s been 2 hours!”  Or, a loved one like a husband who taunts you with your weaknesses, “Oh we’re back on this now again.  How long is this going to last?”  That gets your head together because you can’t let him know he’s right and you’ve entered the ‘psycho zone’ so you begin to plan a sensible dismount to this insanity.  And you begin to get perspective.  And honestly, you’ve gotten over the hump so you are back to normal again of just working out and enjoying it.  You’ve also started seeing other veggies besides the green bean.  Good thing, too, you were feeling stifled by the relationship.

You can now enter normal civilization again having survived one of nature’s greatest mysteries:  the exercise slump.  Not sure what it is but there is no vaccination for it (thank goodness or NY would make it mandatory in gyms) and you have no idea when it’s going to strike.  Just know, we’ve all been there.

“Good humor is a tonic for mind and body. It is the best antidote for anxiety and depression. It is a business asset. It attracts and keeps friends. It lightens human burdens. It is the direct route to serenity and contentment.”

Grenville Kleiser

Enjoy your day and I hope I didn’t ruin it for anyone who brought chicken, sweet potato and green beans today!:o)

Oh it’s about that time.

You know…when we stop being so serious about hormones, looks and such and discuss what’s really on our minds:  bad driving!

Oh you know it bothers you!  If it doesn’t, then you are who I am about to talk about!hehe

In this day and age, we need to be careful of stress.  Free radical damage is serious and having high levels of cortisol can cause your hormones to go out of whack (thereby causing unnecessary weight gain) and your body to be off kilter.  So how can we keep this happening?  GET RID OF THESE BAD DRIVERS!

OH HEAR ME WHEN I SPEAK, PLEASE!

If you think a stop sign secretly reads PARK–I am talking to you!  Please don’t camp out at these things!  They did not want you to stay for long so they made the sign short:  STOP.  Not…STOP AND READ THIS SIGN FOR 10 MIN WHILE CONTEMPLATING THE FONT USED ON THE SIGN AND THE SPECIAL COLOR RED IT IS PAINTED ON.  You got me?  OY!

If your car goes from 0 to 60 in 5 min.–remove it from the road!  You are a hazard to society.  If I can run beside your car the whole time while you are trying to gain speed, you need some new pistons.  Honestly!

If you drive so slow that my 3 year old has to call you out: “Mama, why you behind dis’ slow poke?  MOVE! Mama, can you go pass him? Pass him, mama!  MOVE IT!”  It’s a shame folks but he’s learning early!

If you slow down to gawk at an accident I hope you pop a tire on any free flying glass!  It’s you clowns who cause 5:00 o’clock traffic!  In fact, you also slow down for tire changers AND disabled vehicles.  You deserve to run out of a gas on a long stretch of road…in the dark…in a foreign country…while it’s snowing…up hill…both ways…lol.

lastly…

If you cannot solve a rubiks cube with one hand while building a lego castle with the other, don’t talk on the phone while driving.  Clearly this task is beyond you.  I have had the luxury of seeing some outrageous things lately like talking on the phone while eating and driving a stick.  Actually, that was me, but I got it done!  Unlike these other yoyos who try it and end up 3 lanes over straddling 2 lanes at the same time.  This also applies to putting on make up while driving too!  Honestly, lip liner is meant to line your lips–not trace your major facial features!  Try a mirror in your bathroom please…

Keeping your stress levels down is key to a beautiful face and body.  I recommend that you pull over, stop the car and help a fellow brother or sister out by turning the car off.  Walk to the nearest bus stop and get on.  Suddenly, they will notice fine lines and wrinkles disappearing and their youthful glow will be back.  It’s time for you to give back to others and get off of the road.  This has been a public service announcement from your local annoyed trainer/nutritionist.  Peace!