You know you’re a fitness nerd…if “dressing up” means wearing your silver Nikes.
Anyone who’s ever done weighted hip thrusts while having a serious conversation or watched two guys arm wrestle over the last jar of Pure Protein knows: Fitness is funny. The things we say, the things we do, and heaven help us, the things we WEAR. Every once in a while I take a step back and look at what I’m actually doing and it makes me giggle. So this weekend while I was laying on the floor doing my mandatory sets of butt clenches (excuse me, glute contractions) in the middle of the crowded gym, I came up with this list. I hope you’ll add on yours too!!
You know you’re a fitness nerd if:
1. You carry goggles, gloves, a jump rope and a change of clothes in your car at all times… and you’re not a serial killer.
2. You’ve ever spent time running around a playground… without bringing a kid.
3. You’ve ever been pinned with your arms above your head whilst trying to wiggle out of a sweaty sports bra. (And then what do you do? No seriously, I’m asking. Not that this has ever personally happened to me. Yes it has.)
Growing up, “food fight” didn’t necessarily mean gleeful spaghetti slinging or flour flinging, like in the movies. (Although there was the time my sister rolled in a plate of Jell-O. She was one. Of course we still tease her about it.) Sometimes a food fight just meant that we were arguing because we were hungry – Hiltons don’t tolerate low blood sugar well. I don’t remember who first made the connection between hunger and anger (probably my mom, she’s a very smart nurse and also, well, our mom) but I can remember more than one time where my mom charged into a screaming match with a granola bar in each hand, waving them at us and telling us to just eat something already. Of course I was insulted that she thought an oatmeal cookie was going to fix my VERY SERIOUS THANK YOU teenage problems. Yet it worked more than I’d like to admit.
Handstand toe archery! Best fitness talent ever. And hey, my gym only says no GUNS allowed on the premises. I’m sure they’d be totally cool with this.
Everybody’s got a talent, right? I’m pretty sure that’s what we were all told the day they handed out our special snowflake awards, so we could put them on our shelves right next to the soccer trophies we got just for showing up. Not that I’m knocking my soccer trophy, mind you. I still have it in my box of childhood stuff because to me it screams tenacity. I never once made a single goal the entire season — for our team (although I did get one for our competition). In fact, I might have been the only one to graduate still not getting that we switched sides halfway through the game (hence the rogue goal). But I stuck it out! I earned every plastic particle of that thing through blood, sweat and tears. Mostly tears. ANYHOW.
Bounding into my room this morning at still-too-early-o’thirty (official Kid Standard Time), Jelly Bean threw herself across my slumbering back and did a perfect imitation of wee Princess Anna in Frozen, proclaiming, “The sky’s awake! So I am awake! So we have to play!”
My crabbiness was overcome by her cuteness and I cracked a smile. But when I say “cracked” I literally mean cracked. As in something by my lip snapped. And it hurt! I stopped smiling as quickly as a Sharpei at a Botox party. I ran to the mirror and was greeted by my old nemesis – my Bermuda Zit, so named because it sits in that unholy triangle of my lip, chin and cheek. Believe you me, if Amelia Earhart had crashed her plane into my Bermuda Triangle we would have found her before she got her socks wet because any little thing that touches that area of my face immediately prompts a skin eruption that make signal flares look like cocktail poppers.
I know it’s the weekend. Still. Stop whatever you’re doing and watch this now:
(sorry, you may have to click through to see the vid. It’s not showing up in readers for some reason. But I promise it’s worth it!)
These guys put together one of the funniest and yet also most accurate lists of “that guy” at the gym. (Although to be fair, 90% of them could also be “that girl”!) I laughed so hard.
“Dude, where’s your towel?!”
“It’s right here!!!!” (waves a hanky)
Also, I’m totally the “sprinting on the treadmill” person. And I’m NOT SORRY.
Ahhhh this will be the best 5 minutes of your day, promise.
This little guy in the middle would be me: Trying hard but getting it all mixed up – but still throwing some stellar JAZZ HANDS! Jazz hands make everything better.
“Aiieeee!” There was a shout and loud clatter as a woman nearby us in the parking lot of the hardware store watched all of her metal thingies (yes that’s the official name THINGIES) crash off of her giant orange shopping cart into the snow. My family and I were on our way into the store but I paused, Jelly Bean on my hip, to help her pick up her stuff. My boys jumped in too and within a minute we had her loaded back up and unstuck from the snow. It really was the smallest thing. Really. And yet as I turned to walk away, she touched my arm, “I’m just amazed. Your family is so nice! You guys just made my whole day!”
I waited until we got inside to round up my kids for a big hug. “Did you hear what she said? You guys just made her day! Just by helping her for 1 minute!” They beamed. “See? Helping people doesn’t have to be hard,” I started in on Mom Lecture #239. “You just have to be aware of the needs of people around you!”
About a month ago I got a sweet note from my little bro, who is on the Internet so much he’d have a fiber optic cable attached to his brain Matrix-style… if that weren’t so low-tech. (I think his brain might actually be The Cloud. Shh.) Anyhow. “Uh, Shosh?” he wrote me. (Yes, Shosh is my childhood nickname. Don’t ask.) “I think someone’s stealing your stuff…” And he sent me a link to a website that had stolen some of my photos, stripped off my copyright and refashioned them as “fitspiration.”
First, lest you think they were fetishizing my particular body, let me disillusion you. The pics were of me working out and they were using them as inspiration to workout until you puke. Second, you all know how I feel about fitspiration. It’s basically thinspiration in a sports bra. And thinspiration is the Miley Cyrus of Internet memes: provocative, in your face and with the intelligence (and grammar) of a 3rd-grader. Oh, and they’re both bad for little girls.
Today as I scrolled down through my newsfeed, I saw it: “Top 10 Mistakes You’re Making in the Gym” (the histrionic RIGHT NOW!!! was implied). I felt my eyes glaze over – another day, another “what not to do at the gym” list. I dunno, guys. Maybe I’m jaded but I’ve read a million of these (heck, I think I even wrote one myself) and I just can’t get worked up anymore about people dropping the weights, taking too long on the hip abductor machine, singing out loud or hitting on anything with boobs. I tried, really I did, especially with the last one, but I was overwhelmed… with ennui. (And my lack of boobs.)
GROSS. So many questions: Why is this pig so happy to be slicing and dicing himself? Why is he made of sausage? How can he hold a knife with no opposable thumbs? And WHAT are the purple bits?! I’m so disturbed.
My hobbies: Fitness, baking failures and flushing toilets (at least you’d assume so based on the number of times per day I have to do it. Boys.) Actually one of my fave things to do is to collect vintage dresses. But it’s less well known that I also love vintage diet ads. They’re hilarious! And misogynistic And gross (see above)! And so often, really really wrong. So a couple of years ago I did a post with my fave ads but I’ve found so many new ones that I had to share these with you. You’re welcome! (Or, I’m sorry. I know, now you can’t get the pig out of your head either.)
Would this be the Hannibal Lecter method of “reducing”? Although I have to admit I’m curious to see the “illustrated booklet”.
[UPDATE: I got Cassie’s gluten-free sugar-free chocolate cupcake recipe and I’ve added it at the end of this post. Just don’t ask me to cook them for you! You’re welcome!]
There was a big shindig Sunday night. The Superbowl? You might have heard of it. Don’t ask me who was playing because I still can’t tell you despite being in the same room as a TV for 90% of the game. I was just excited because we got invited to a friend’s house for a party and the invite specifically said “Bring a HEALTHY treat to share!” Finally! Permission to break out all my weird food! Of course this called for something really great. So did I use one of my tried-and-true secret-weapon recipes like my roasted red pepper hummus or sugar-free meringue cookies? Of course not! I did exactly what you’re not supposed to do and went with a random, untried recipe off the Internet for which the only comments were from people who had never tried it (a fact I didn’t discover until halfway through my disaster). But I’m getting ahead of myself.