diet

C’est mon anniversaire, du coup!

So I was going to write this really long post about how this year, I’m filled with gratitude and joy on my birthday, instead of my usual dread/shame, or mere happiness. And that is true. I am. I don’t understand why I’m surrounded by so many good people, from acquaintances to blogging-friends to coworkers to close friends to family: my life is filled with funny, generous, smart individuals from all walks of life. No idea why these losers have had such a lapse in judgment as to like me, but hey! Nobody is perfect and it makes me SO happy. Toe-tappingly, goofy-grinningly happy.

OR that might be caused by all the champagne I drank today. Not sure.

Instead, let me brag about my amazing birthday so far.

Like Winnie-the-Pooh wisely advises , it is necessary to have a “little sometin'” to tide you over till supper


As I was walking down the street, happily enjoying my macarons snack, a French dude called out to me, “But watch out! You’ll get fat if you eat too many of those!”

Watch me, bro.

I then proceeded to have one of the most posh suppers ever:

Bougiest supper ever: kir royale, foie gras, boeuf tartare, biscuit rosé, strawberry gazpacho

Observe the happy tipsy bday smile #stillclassy


But was that enough? No! I wanted a 2nd dessert. I wandered about Reims at 11pm searching for the perfect sweet bite.

Macarons? Mille-feuille? Crème brûlée? Profiteroles? Any other French delicacy?

Nope. 

I had a Burger King chocolate sunday and it was AWESOME. #zeFrenchgaspedinhorreur

Tomorrow, imma finish the celebrations by going to a champagne winery (Taittinger), and doing an intense dégustation, bien sûr! I considered squeezing in two champagne tours, because I am not ashamed of being a lush on my 3rd 30th bday, but then I realized I’d miss out on seeing a famous palace, and I love indulging my princess side. So instead I’ll start off the day with a café crème and a fresh warm croissant, sitting on a cobblestone terrace.

Gratitude and joy are easier in France.

#socheesyyetsoblessed

#happy

#mypeepsaregoodpeople

#champagneismybae

#seriouslythoidontgetwhyihavesomanyawesomefriends #theyarethebest

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A highly accurate, scientific comparison of weight loss prep between male and female boxers

To all my non-boxers out there: you are probably aware that there are multiple weight categories in boxing, for the safety of the boxers and the fairness of the fights. Typically, a boxer will have an everyday walking weight that is heavier than their fighting weight category, and will drop weight in time for the weigh-in which usually occurs btn 4 and 36 hours before the fight (depending on the importance of the fight, and if it is amateur/pro. The time gap between weigh-in and fight is longer the more serious the fight, to allow fighters adequate time to recover from some of the more extreme weight loss techniques and rehydrate and re-energize.)


It’s competition season at the gym. Everyone is discussing weight categories, diets, strategies, non stop. I’m gearing up for my first fight in 2 years, and so I am in the midst of my own weight loss journey. It has come to my attention that the female and male boxers at my gym prep VERY differently for their weight. Here is a totally accurate, extremely scientific summary of how each gender makes weight.

Female fighters

6 weeks out: The female fighter will weigh herself furtively. Pretend it never happened. Start planning out her social calendar to see how many events she will be attending before her fight, and the nature of those events: will there be food? If so, what kind of food. Using that information, the female fighter will determine a reasonable amount of weight that can be lost in the 6 week period. Then, the female fighter will talk to Coach about her feelings: “Coach, I feel I should fight at X weight. I feel that will make me taller than the other girls, and faster. I feel that is what I should do.” Coach will ask her if she can drop that weight. The female fighter will start listing her calendar, the moon cycle, the levels of stress in her life, the situation at work, the weather as relevant factors. Coach’s eyes glaze over, and he never gets a yes or no answer to his question.

4 weeks out: the female fighter determines when her next period will be, and how the timing of it will impact her weight loss plan. Inevitably, it impacts her plan negatively, because inevitably, the female fighter forgot to factor in the entirely predictable, recurring bloat from PMS in her initial calculations for her reasonable weight-loss timetable. The female fighter shares her period symptoms (flow, number of shits, cramps, cravings) with all the other female fighters. Specific commiseration is reserved for the female fighters who are likely to get their period on the day of weigh-in.

3 weeks out: the female fighter posts hangry memes on Facebook and Instagram. She updates all her fellow boxers about each cheat meal/bite she has taken and frets that one cookie will derail her entire boxing career. She mutters reassuring half-sentences to herself, “It’s ok, if I stick to my diet, no more cheats, I should be ok. I’ll be ok. I just have to not eat anything when I go for brunch with all my best friends next weekend. I don’t need to eat anything. It’s my favourite restaurant – I’ve been there before; I can skip food this one time. It’s for a good cause.” The female fighter cuts all alcohol from her diet.

2 weeks out: The price of celery goes up across all grocery stores in the city. Every male boxer in the gym has heard about every female boxer’s weight loss struggles and is uncomfortably familiar with their menstrual cycle and impact on their body. At least one female fighter has had a freak out and questioned her place in the Universe, “If I can’t even be disciplined and stick to my diet plan for just a few weeks, what does that say about who I am as a person? I don’t think I have the mental fortitude to be a fighter. Maybe I should move up a weight category. I don’t WANT to move up a weight category: I like MY weight category. I’m just immature, I lack dedication. A grown-ass woman should be able to survive without chocolate or candy for a few weeks, no?! But I LIKE chocolate and candy. This sport is stupid.”

Daily for 2 weeks straight: the female fighter will weigh herself 1-4 times a day, and can guesstimate her fluctuations due to clothes, time of day, mood, and humidity. She’ll do daily cardio sessions, talk about her weight to coworkers, friends, teammates, strangers on the bus, and her cat.

Day of the weigh-in: the female fighter will abstain from food or liquids and weigh in at +/- 0.25lbs, stripped down to her underwear. The female fighter will then look at a protein bar or banana and promptly regain 5lbs.

Male fighters

At some point in the 3-4 weeks leading up to a fight, while they are sitting around joking with their teammates, one of them will perk up, turn to Coach and ask, “Hey Coach, am I fighting in (choose one) weight category? Yeah? Ok. I should probably drop 15lbs then”.

3 days later: “Coach, I lost 7lbs. I ate a veggie.”

1 week before the fight: “Oh, I’m still 8lbs overweight. I guess I’ll cut out alcohol from my diet.”

Day of the weigh-in: makes weight with a 2lb buffer.

GENDER INEQUALITY IS A THING Y’ALL. THIS PROVES IT.

That time I hurt Coach’s feelings

Yesterday morning I tried on my dress for Dynamo’s wedding (T-7 till I get on the plane!!!! Weeeeeeeeee!) to make sure it still fit. I’ve put on 3lbs since I bought it during the holidays, so I was concerned – it is extremely form-fitting, with cut-outs at the waist, made out of material with no stretch. The last thing I want is to spill out of the cut-outs: not sexy. When I bought the dress, my posture had to be perfect to avoid spillover. A 3lbs weight-gain, under such circumstances, is a big deal.

To my surprise, the dress fight perfectly around the torso and waist – a sign that my weight gain is primarily muscle mass and not fat. Yay. HOWEVER, there was a small problem: the dress had grown tighter around the butt & upper thigh area. My booty had grown. Tribute to all those squats, deadlifts and box jumps, no doubt.

At the gym last night, I asked Coach how I could reduce my booty: more cardio? starvation? high reps low weight? I had 2 weeks to slim down the lower body to fit into the dress. With his help, I was confident I could achieve the exact body I wanted.

WRONG.

WHAT do you want to do? You want to REDUCE that booty? I don’t understand. Why would you want to do that? Your booty is perfect. Glorious. Women would kill to have that booty and you want to GET RID OF IT. For a dress. That goes against everything this gym stands for. Here, we CELEBRATE booty! How DARE you ask me that? I am the COACH who gave you that booty, and you dare ask me, ME, to undo all our hard work? Sacrilege! Treason! You are breaking my heart. You have offended my feelings as a Coach. I am speechless.

Except he really wasn’t speechless at all, because during the entire 1.5 hour training session, he made snarky comments to and about me, my glutes, and my poor judgment.

At the end of class, he told me to buy another dress, because he refused to participate in such a foolish scheme.

Ooops?

 

When Google IS helpful

Guys – humans of the male gender – this post is safe, if somewhat irrelevant, for you.

It will come to no surprise to any of you, after my last post about drowning in the Red Sea, that I am anemic. I’m falling asleep everywhere, and can’t drag myself out of bed, nails are peeling and breaking all over the place. Before resorting to iron supplements (stained teeth! constipation! SEXY TIME!), I’m really trying to change my diet to eat as many iron-rich foods as possible.

Namely, dark chocolate.

A small bar of Lindt dark chocolate easily provides up to 67% of the daily value for iron. In a form that is easily absorbed by the body.

So basically, I have NO CHOICE but to eat a LOT of chocolate. For my health.

lemonchocolate

Life is very hard, sometimes.

I leave you with Mr. Bean. He gives a very good argument for a steady diet of chocolate in the clip below. Mr. Bean the Wise.

Literally what happens EVERYTIME I go on a diet

And I do mean in the literal sense and not the abstract sense. The following monologue actually gets delivered OUT LOUD, much to my coworkers’ irritation.

Chocolate, I want chocolate. Oh it’s 9am – too early for chocolate. NO CHOCOLATE FOR YOU, hahaha sucker, you’re on a diet. Is it weird that I am having a conversation with myself? Maybe it’s time to do some work. Okay, I’ll work now.

Geez, so many emails? Why so many emails? I really want a muffin right now. No muffin for me (sing-songy voice). And if I can’t have a muffin, no one can have a muffin. No muffin for you! No muffin for you! And no muffin for YOU! I’m like the Oprah of deprivation.

Work work work. Accountants must all be fat, this is boring. Is it lunch-time yet? Oh, it’s only 10:10. Well, this sucks. I guess I’ll drink some water – hydrate my pretty skin.

Water is not doing it for me.

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, I’ll work now.

I have a headache. Must be from sugar withdrawal.

SWEET IT’S LUNCH TIME!!!!!

I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert I want dessert.

This apple is a shitty dessert.

K, I just did 24 minutes of work, can I have chocolate yet?

FML. This is going to be a long day.

Whaddya mean, I should stop talking? ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?!

#teamplayer

#yesihaveADDwhydoyouask?

Best gif ever, found on my newest favorite site: http://www.playbuzz.com/katewalker10/describe-your-sex-life-with-a-spongebob-quote

I don’t handle diets well

I’ve decided to clean up my diet and shed the 10lbs that I put on over the past year. Basically, I want to get back to where I was at my 30th birthday, so that I can convincingly state this year that I am celebrating my 30th birthday a second time, without people comparing pictures from the 2 celebrations and catching on to my little ploy.

Fueling my motivation to shed 10 is my desire to once again step into the ring and fight this fall, and those 10lbs have most definitely been holding me back when I spar. They gotta go! To make matters worse (better?), my coach requested that I take “before” pictures in a sports bra & shorts last week, to track my progress as I begin a new weightlifting and conditioning program. I resisted that idea for several days – claiming all kinds of excuses from my inability to take selfies (true) to my phone died (convenient). Coach insisted and I gave in to his request, and when I saw those pics my eyes bled, my soul was bruised and I cried. That is when I realized that shedding 10 was my priority for the summer.

Of course, I handled that realization with maturity, and grace.

After getting a mani/pedi, a most excellent way to pamper a bruised soul, I decided I was allowed one last blow-out cheat meal, before embarking on the cleanest of clean diets. I treated myself to, amongst many things, chicken wings and cheese and wine. The chicken wings were deliciously greasy, and I was very hungry, and I took a big bite, and somehow my greasy fingers slipped and I ended up biting my finger and wrecking my beautiful manicure.

 Notice the teeth marks on my middle finger.

Wrecking a 2-hour old manicure through cannibalism is most definitely a sign that a recalibration of my diet is in order.

Sigh. Life is very hard.