Have you seen the Tiny Hamsters Eating Tiny Burritos video yet?? So adorable, so cheeky, so… weirdly mesmerizing! I think it’s because I used to make elaborate set ups like when I was kid – but for the imaginary fairies that I was absolutely positive weren’t imaginary:) And there’s already a part two: Tiny Hamsters Eating Tiny Pizzas. (Click through if vid isn’t showing up in your reader/email!)
“Who killed JFK? What color would a smurf turn if you choked it? Where in the nursery rhyme does it say humpty dumpty is an egg? Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but people don’t point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?” – With so many important questions that need answering sometimes it can be easy to overlook the more simple ones. So when I got a recent e-mail from a reader who asked me a question about Intuitive Eating, it took me a minute to realize what she was really asking me: How do you not eat when you’re not hungry?
I’ve lost myself. Oh don’t worry, it’s not serious. Not like the time I ate the special brownies and tried to join Gwar only to get eaten by a giant cockroach. (lie: I don’t eat brownies unless they’re in ice cream and the only “special” ingredient I’d eat would be black beans. I would totally join Gwar though.) But I do seem to have lost my way a bit lately, lost my sense of who I really am. It’s not a surprise – this happens to me from time to time. It’s one of the downsides of being what psychologists call a “high self monitor” (i.e. a social chameleon). I get so eager to please people and fit in that I immerse myself in whatever they like and try to change myself to fit with what they expect me to be – or at least what I think they expect me to be. Unfortunately the more I try to be everything to everyone, the more I fail to be anything to anyone. It’s been a hard lesson to learn.
This picture alone is why America needs to have more subways.
Yoga is supposed to be the ultimate non-competitive exercise but if you’ve ever spent time in a “serious” yoga class (or even a not-so-serious one) you’ll discover the Pose Off. I wish I was talking about lining up all the mats like a catwalk and having each yogi do their best Tyra impression. No, I mean the inevitable comparison of who can do which advanced poses and how well. Since overt bragging doesn’t mesh well with the whole yoga vibe, you have to make your stunts look calm and serene. Oh this? I always relax in a fingertip handstand. You can’t do it? Super easy – you just have to focus on tightening your core and you’ll get it!
(Side note: I swear the answer to EVERY tricky yoga pose is always “It’s all in your core! If you just hug your ribs together you’ll pop right up like a beach umbrella, easy peasy lemon squeezie!” Also, why is there no Beach Umbrella Pose?? There should be. I don’t care if beach umbrellas didn’t exist in ancient India. Neither did Justin Beiber and yet we now have yogaBiebs poses.)
Every gym has this guy. (He’s a car! No he’s a human! Wait, he’s a Transformer!!) Is it terrible my first thought was “I would have taken off my jacket and tucked in my headphone wires first?” Because I really kind of want to try this even if it is the definition of ridiculosity.
Gossip, intrigue, power plays and morality plays: From the small stuff to the life-and-death stuff (sometimes literally), gyms are a microcosm of life. Add all the hormones, endorphins, sweat and fatigue from a good workout and you’ve got a recipe for the best reality show ever – seriously, why has no one ever done a gym reality show?! (edited to add: apparently someone has, I’ve just never seen it.) – or for some serious gym drama. Love it or hate it, the reality is that because we’re all flawed human beings, we’re all going to run into it sometimes. Some of us more than others. Ahem.
So when I got this e-mail from Reader A about wanting to breakup with her gym, I totally felt her pain! And I’m guessing many of you have as well. She writes:
Ranked right up there with the perfect squat and the best blender for smoothies, the “runner’s high” is one of the most elusive yet sought-after myths in modern fitness lore. But is it a real biochemical response or just marathoners trying to justify spending their whole Saturday running? The anecdotal evidence is mixed: for people who get a runner’s high it’s not only real but amazing; but for people who’ve never had one it can seem like a whole lot of hooey. Fortunately a new study in The Journal of Experimental Biology tests this out and the results are very interesting!
Q: Is the runner’s high real?
A: Researchers measured endocannabinoids (a brain chemical that indicates increased pleasure) in humans, dogs and ferrets both before and after a run. What they found was that humans and dogs both experience a large increase in the endocannabinoids after a 30-minute treadmill run. The ferrets on the other hand experienced no increase. Because ferrets. Have you seen their ugly little mugs? I don’t think they enjoy anything, frankly. Ferrets are the Joan Rivers of the animal world. Actually the researchers postulate it is because ferrets as a species are not adapted to run, especially at high speeds or for long distances. The researchers conclude that the neurobiological “reward” for endurance exercise may explain why humans continue to engage in aerobic exercise despite the extra work and injury risks.
Best eye makeup EVER.
Wait, that sign has words?? My whole world view was rocked one day in 5th grade when my parents took me to get my eyes checked. It turned out that not only was I near-sighted but I was so near-sighted that the fact that signs contain actual words and not just blurry pictures was a shattering revelation. I remember marching out of the optometrist’s office and reading every sign I could find – just because I could.
Ever since then my consistently worsening vision has provided my family with a trove of embarrassing and hilarious stories. Like the time when I was 16 and jumped on the back of a boy in the swimming pool, thinking he was my brother that I’d been horsing around with. I quickly realized that despite wearing the same color swim trunks as my brother, he was not related to me in any way when he turned his head and said dryly, “Excuse me, can I help you?” I still had my legs locked around his waist when I spotted my brother several feet away laughing so hard I thought he was going to aspirate his own tongue.
For the record, the next time I win anything I’m totally crowning myself with a tiara!! How fun is that on the medal podium? Way better than that stupid bite-the-medal pose everyone else does…
Four Olympic medals make some pretty sweet bling but, for skier Julia Mancuso, her latest addition also makes her the most decorated American female skier in Olympic history and the only one to medal in three straight Olympics.
On Monday Mancuso wowed crowds and gave the U.S. its first Alpine skiing medal in Sochi by winning the bronze medal in the women’s super combined. This event has both a downhill portion, which Mancuso excels at, along with a slalom portion, which she hasn’t had as much experience in. So while she’s known for shining at high-stakes events—her other medals are a gold from the 2006 Olympics and two silver from 2010’s Games—many experts counted her out from the beginning, citing her lack of experience in the event and the fact she took a break from the competition circuit in the last half of 2013.
And not only were the experts worried but Macuso herself later admitted she wasn’t even sure she would finish the race, much less medal.
Bouncing along the dirt road, listening to the box full of frozen bones clanking around like I’d car-jacked Ezekiel, all I could hope was that I wouldn’t get pulled over because I didn’t want to have to explain to a cop why there was a bloody cardboard box filled with a chopped up cow skeleton in my trunk. Because of course the answer is: I’m cheap. You sure you want all these? the rancher had asked me when I went to pick up my neat little shrink-wrapped order of local, grass-fed, kissed-by-angels beef. When I nodded at the stack of bones to the side, he just shook his head. You must have a lot of dogs or something.
Dogs? Nope. Delusions of health grandeur! Something like that.
I love that Pregnant Barbie’s stomach is really just the top to a Silly Putty egg. And hey, she’s already prepared for birth with her mesh panties!
This week I wrote a lot about how to prepare for pregnancy for Shape mag’s site. I got to talk to a bunch of experts about lady business, one of my fave subjects and even learned a few things which would come in handy if I was going to get pregnant again which, knock on wood, will not be happening again. (Just for the record, we’re way smarter about birth control than just knocking on wood.) So if you want solid advice from vetted experts and stuff go read my article over there. But if you want the advice for prepping your body for pregnancy that no one will tell you, well that’s why I’m here.
Charlotte’s 13 totally random, not fact-checked, hopefully hilarious tips to prepare for pregnancy and children:
– Start carrying a water bottle so that when your breast milk unexpectedly lets down you can splash your whole chest with water and pretend you just finished a really great workout and are not, in fact, turning into a human geyser.
Asked the kids to get ready to go to Target and this is what I got: Jelly Bean pants-less and shoe-less while Son #3 has on two hats, a scarf, two pairs of gloves, snow bibs, two coats and boots. Note that neither is seasonally appropriate. Pretty sure this does not say good things about my parenting skills.
First they came for our disposable diapers. Next it was our shampoo, toothpaste and laundry detergent. But have you heard of the newest craze in cost-cutting healthy living? Reusable toilet paper. Yep, instead of splurging on Charmin now the super thrifty eco-conscious health bloggers are putting little baskets of cut up flannel next to their toilets with the instruction to wipe, rinse and repeat. Don’t get me wrong, this actually makes a lot of sense – toilet paper does seem kind of wasteful. And flannel strips are way more tushie-tender than, say, the corn cobs or Sears catalog pages of yesteryear. One blogger reported that the old-fashioned paper rolls set her back $136 a year but her new-old-fashioned cloth wipes only cost $42 a year (in laundering, I’m assuming). Yet while I did use cloth diapers for a while (until I got tired of the leaking) and have made my own shampoo and detergent (until I got lazy and went back to store-bought), I just can’t get past the ick factor of homemade TP. Not even to save $92. Call me a Luddite.