Facebook and its many functionalities.

I recently wrote something for In It To Gym It on Facebook as a weight loss tool:

In addition to aiding and abetting my stalking habits, I’m realizing another, more useful – if not equally disturbing – Facebook functionality. Yep, Facebook as a weight-loss tool.

Who needs Weight Watchers when you have “Social-Network-Comprised-of-People-You-May-or-May-Not-Even-Know-or-Like Watchers”? I realize it’s important that I do this for myself in order for it to work, but knowing that the one guy that I have a really big crush on, or Momma J, or my marathon-running tri-athlete of an ex-boyfriend may one day stumble across a picture of me resembling Violet Beauregarde in the blueberry pie stage of her three-course dinner via gum makes me cringe with embarrassment.

To read the rest, visit IITGI . . .

The onset of OMG-It's-Almost-Summer happy hours, beer-league softball, and fucking ridiculous hours at work are to blame for my latest "come to Jesus" talk between myself and my reflection.

Hopefully for your sake (well, and mine) I figure out the equivalent of the Oompa Loompa's juicing procedure, or you're gonna have to hear about this shit on the blog waaaay too often.

Well, pending my ability to get my blogging-act together, I suppose ... 

That is all. For now.

In It To Gym It (IITGI).

I've never been a big chronicle-your-weight-loss-online kind of person. Actually, I just realized that this blog is really the first time I've ever kind of openly talked about my ups-and-downs in this department.

Well, save a few close friends - and usually just the ones that are going through the same thing I am.

Momma J talked me into doing Weight Watchers online once while I was in college. I hated it and never really signed into the account. It was supposed to be this big support group of people at your disposal, but I just found it mildly annoying and un-motivating.

Then, the other day, I stumbled across this fabulous blog collective started by the wonderful Ms. LiLu called In It To Gym It. It's the first time that I've been super into any kind of "support group" on this or any topic, really. I think it's because the group is comprised of a lot of 20sb-ers, or just people whose blogs I've stumbled across prior to their joining IITGI.

Whereas the whole Weight Watchers online thing was way less personal to me, and mostly comprised of bored housewives going through varying stages of mid-life crises.

Anyway, if at all interested, I suggest you check it out! There's already been an outpouring of posts by members - if you're interested in further thoughts from yours truly, you just may see a post or two from me over there every now and again as well.

Yay IITGI!

Committed (Or: A Sloth Makes Peace with the Gym)

It would come as no great shock if my beloved Crunch came to me with divorce papers, begging and pleading to break all ties. Since the day that I vowed to renew our love and commitment, I've been terribly neglectful. 

A neglect so all-encompassing that I too am starting to fall into the sort of depression that I imagine Crunch must be feeling after a month of this treatment. I have continually disregarded with wanton abandon its innocent reminders that I visit. I mean, clearly it only wants to provide love and support, right?

But for serious. 

Last week I drank Tuesday through Saturday. I mean D-R-A-N-K. There was no time for Crunch. Subsequently, I'm gifting all of my friends the 12 step program and buying myself a book on avoiding the pitfalls of peer pressure. I'm sure the friends won't forget me if I deign to stay in one night. Hell, they may not even miss me. 

The result of this epic binge (besides the added neglect of this blog ...) was me prostrate in bed all day Sunday ignoring any and all potential human contact. 

Well, and a renewed vow to rekindle my relationship with the only one that loves me unconditionally. (OK, besides Momma J. And maybe Lil'Bro. And definitely the Best Dog in the World.)

  

Gratuitous picture of BDW

Yes, Crunch, I'm talking to you. You will always be The One.

When I walked in today, the girl behind the counter asked me how I was doing as she swiped my card. Pretty standard stuff. I guess my face betrayed my dread at having missed an entire week.

After I mumbled, "Fine, thanks," her face crumpled as if I'd just made her drown her own puppy.

"Excuse me?" she said, simultaneously looking like she was going to cry and eat me. (Or maybe puke and vomit, which is LP's favorite description of sheer disbelief or desolation - depends on the situation.)

I repeated with a smile (that she probably knew to be the fake sort that it was), "I said fine, thanks."

"Ooooh," she said. "I thought you said 'fine, I hate this'!"

Woops. I mean, I sort of do, but only when I walk in. When I leave, I feel great. Hell, ebullient. As I do right now following tonight's blissful (if not sweaty and unnatractive - wait strike that, it sounds too dirty, and for once I didn't mean it!) hour-plus bonding session.

So Crunch, here's to second chances and renewed commitment. I'll try my best to be a dependable, reliable partner. And please, just remember, I will always love you no matter what.

The Enabler

Recently, I went on an Amazon book-buying spree. I'm pretty positive that the guys in the mailroom have gotten tired of delivering packages to my desk. I have not tired of receiving them, however.

Now that all of the holidays are over, and effing Valentine's Day is the only thing we have to "look forward to" as we serve out the rest of our winter sentence, I need something that elicits a little excitement in life.

And if packages that I have ordered for myself - that I already know the contents of - elicit said excitement, imagine what the arrival of an unknown, slightly-larger-than-book-size package did for my day.

After receiving my third glare of the morning from Mailroom Man as he dropped it off, I remembered that Momma J had mentioned the purchase of an impulse-presie, which she'd sent to my office.

I wasn't sure what the appropriate reaction should be as I recovered this gem of a present from the depths of the box:

Hilarity and heartburn are, naturally, where I've netted out with this one.

Upon calling to thank her, she ended the conversation with: Have you gotten that pool membership yet? I saw those new pictures posted on your FaceBook page and I think you should really start thinking about ways to get enough exercise with that knee of yours.

Because Bacon Bourbon Caramel Corn really says, "I'm concerned for your health and the ratio of your diet-to-exercise level."

And that is the story of my life - I've gotten this from 3 generations of women on my mom's side of the family since I was old enough to understand the word "diet". (Probably like, 1st grade or so. Ya know, the norm...)

Just wait, unborn daughter that I may or may not someday have - I will probably do this to you, too.

"I'm so fat, I want to eat my muffin top"

I love this saying, stolen from the always funny KH. It's not only funny but sadly true as well... Getting over this knee surgery has taken much longer than I thought and I've subsequently lost all motivation to eat healthy and count calories. That coupled with the advent of the holiday season means I'm in serious trouble.

For instance, I had eggnog and holiday cookies for breakfast this morning - thoughtfully provided by my office during our annual White Elephant gift exchange. (Also of note, they call it "Yankee Swap" in the North, apparently...)

The leftover cookies are currently displayed at one of the most high-traffic spots in our corridor right next to the printers and supply closet. I couldn't help but notice that all of the Santas, candy canes and mistletoe are gone while the blue dreidels and star of Davids basically stand alone next to the leftover eggnog. (Which then made me think of lumpy, curdled eggnog... gross.)

I've concluded one of three things:

1. Our entire group has a strong aversion to the color blue.
2. We're all religious bigots.
3. We're all a bunch of fat kids who immediately went for Santa's jolly, rotund face and the giant candy canes because they covered more surface area than the tiny stars and dreidels.

The fact that we have a menorah in the waiting room and that we handout an official guide to foraging for free food in each new intern's welcome packet clearly leads to number 3 as the obvious conclusion.

Guess this just means that I will be renewing my vows to love and honor Crunch come New Year's Day.

"You can't squat with wobbly shoes and a cookie in your mouth"

“You know what else is bullshit, besides juice cleanses? The idea that wearing some ugly Reeboks with a curvy sole will give you an Ass of Steel.” - Gawker

Sorry Reebok Easy Tones - I agree with the haters.

IMO, the only way to shrink/tone any body part is Biggest Loser style – hardcore cardio/weights combo. As someone whose weight fluctuates as regularly as the seasons, I should know.

Also, as someone who has been lacking the ability to properly hit the gym since, oooh… JULY, I’ll go ahead and tell you that if there were magic shoes, cookies, pills, liquids, or any variation thereof I would have found it, marketed it, and amassed a small fortune by now.

And speaking of the Biggest Loser, I haven’t been quite as fanatical this season (I have work-out envy – watching other people get their shit together when you’re physically incapable of doing so is a huge de-motivator), but I am super excited for tonight’s finale. Team Amanda!