Lardass Was Bad

I don’t want to go into details (why rehash old memories) but needless to say, I haven’t exercised, weighed myself, or done much in um, 3 days. SACRE WHAT?

Yes, it is true.

Tomorrow I’m going to try to spin again. A girl can try, right?

Lardass Loses Motivation

I think after any initial exercise routine, there comes a period where the exercisee says “I AM LACKING MOTIVATION TO SUCCEED IN MY CURRENT ENDEAVOR.” Such is my current state of mind.

Today, I chugged a Wawa chocolate milk while studying Solutions Chemistry. What did I learn?

A lot of chemistry and nothing about my thighs. Sad.

Opposites (aka if I knew how to make Venn Diagrams of these, I would)

1. People who Measure Body Fat vs. People Who Take a Knotts Blueberry Farm Pastry From the Machine Before Starting their Workout.

Lardass Ups Resistance.

Today I spun again. And I didn’t “pretend” to up the resistance when the instructor asked us to. I actually spun the dial slightly. This had two noticeable effects:

1. It was harder
2. My legs went numb.

While nursing my legs back to life, I noticed that in spinning class, people tend to look sideways while they’re biking. What is sideways, you ask? MIRRORS.

There are two distinct groups of people who check themselves out in the mirror during workouts. People who are obviously infatuated with themselves grunting under heavy duress, and cats. Let me explain.

One girl in front of me did this move where she checked herself out every so often, slyly. “Oh yeah, you’re hot shit,” she was thinking.

Another guy was totally a cat. Cats do this thing where they see themselves in a mirror and become totally startled, because they have no idea it’s their reflection. This guy was the same way. Head down, pedal forward, sideways glance, total shock, stumbled in the pedals, head whipped back forwards. It was awesome to watch, from behind.

I’m more of a casual glancer. Oh, is that you, Mel? I’ll think. “Look at your semi-lithe legs and the sheen on your forehead. Gosh, you’re such a great spinner. Gosh, look at you go—AHHH..” Can someone help me up?

Lardass Skips Boot Camp

I skipped boot camp.  30 lashes with a low-carb noodle.

Lardass Tries Weighted Hula Hoop; Suffers.

Last night I hula-hooped solo in my parents’ backyard for an hour.

The hula hoop was rainbow colored; 15 pounds. It had little nubbins all over the inside circle. I call them undulating waves.

Apparently hula-hooping burns like, 30,000 calories an hour because you’re using every part of your body to keep the hoop up. It’s actually quite difficult.

I tried to do things like squats and read my chemistry textbook while I hula-hooped, but discovered it was nearly impossible. So I stuck to waving my arms in the air in crazy ways — hoping that the neighbors were not looking out their bedroom windows.

Today I woke up with a bruise — hula-hoop shaped — around my torso. It’s a complete circle of purple. It’s like Harold took his purple crayon and walked around my stomach.

I would like to continue to hoop, but I think I’m going to get one without the nubbins. As nice as a purple mottled spot around my midsection may be, I think it doesn’t jive with my (men’s) running shorts.

Lardass and Body Image

I’m very lucky.

I never thought I was heavy until maybe a month ago — when I accidentally looked down at the scale at the OBGYN and squealed “Holy Mother of Dakota Fanning.”

It was the moment I realized my weight had become kind of a health issue — the trigger, you could say, that sparked my weight loss thing.

Before, I lived in a blissful state full of Nutter Butters and tres leches cakes. I grew up in a house where my parents never commented on my weight or made me feel bad about being a Lardass. This was good — because the way I feel about my body is fantastic. Frankly, I love myself, even when my ass is the size of a Goodyear Blimp.

I’m different than most people with ladybits. I know this because most of my friends think they’re fat. They’re not. And today came the real shocker.

One of my friends wrote and told me that his daughters think they’re heavy. They’re 5 and 6 years old.

It’s no surprise, really. The Disney Princesses look like they’ve had some ribs removed. Barbie. The clothes for 5 year olds now that look like they’re just smaller versions of clothes for clubbing. It’s sad.

I want to take these girls and tell them that it doesn’t matter as long as they’re healthy and they’re happy. But I’m not sure it will work.

Lardass Tries Boot Camp

On Sunday, I’m going into battle with my good friend Michelle Obama, who — as you may remember — is the girl in my postbac class with kick ass arms.

Michelle Obama apparently flips tires on the weekends for fun — and has invited me along to her personal boot camp to attempt the same (I’m more likely to accidentally deflate them.) I apparently will take part in an “obstacle course” that Michelle Obama claims is “fun.”

To prepare for this “obstacle course,” I didn’t work out today AND ate a most delectable concoction from my favorite sweet store (Heung Fa Chun) in Chinatown.

My goals are to a) finish and b) not throw up. We’ll see.

Lardass and Food Carts: A Love Story.

I buy 90% of my meals at food carts.

If you don’t live in a city, a food cart is basically God’s Greatest Gift to Humanity, besides sterilizing medical instruments and Chubby Hubby ice cream and Hanes Her Way sweatpants. For the past 3 weeks, I’ve consumed lunch and dinner at food carts most days of the week — and I’ve lost 7 pounds thus far.

It is possible to eat cheaper and healthier at food carts than you would using a normal food store (unless you’re one of those lithe tramps who insists upon eating organic Big Macs and free-range potatoes. Then you should probably use your local organic Whole Snoods supermarket.)

Here’s why:

Because food carts don’t have to pay rent, they make the food for very cheap prices. If you can overlook the fact that your chef may or may not handle money and/or genitals with the same hands used to serve your food (I can.), then you have a) a cheap healthy meal b) resistance to the plague or whatever bacteria may be on the chef’s hands/money/genitals.

Plus, eating out ensures you won’t cheat and/or graze.

There’s a food cart near my subway stop (corner of 9th and Chestnut) that serves a giant heaping of mixed fruit for 3 dollars. They slice and dice and mash the fruit and add a banana for good measure. Options include: mango, strawberries, honeydew, cantaloupe, watermelon, grapes, and oranges.

My go-to lunch carts vary. I visit a Korean cart on the Temple campus, where I get a brown rice bowl with steamed vegetables and tofu for 3 bucks. I also occasionally get a grilled chicken wrap — or a grilled egg sandwich on whole wheat bread. (Every food cart serves egg sandwiches and you can request whole wheat bread.) I’ve also consumed grilled vegetables, falafel, grilled chicken and salad, vegan meatballs, seitan, and basil noodles with vegetables — all for under 5 bucks.

Now…I know that I don’t know what ingredients always go into my food cart meals — but I’m quite careful making sure I don’t have optional sauces added — and I don’t have to cook or worry about clean up or shopping or food prep. It’s an ideal way to ensure I’m eating well and varied for lunch and dinner — and really doesn’t put a dent in my wallet.

Some of my favorites:

If you’re in Center City, try the Grilled Chicken cart at 20th and Market (the cart has plants all over the outside.) Get a heaper container of fresh grilled vegetables, chicken, and whatever the chef deems appropriate.

The Magic Carpet Cart at 34th and Walnut serves fresh seitan, vegan meatballs, and baked falafel — all with a healthy side of squash/zucchini.

Kim’s Cart (12th and Berks) is Temple University’s awesome Korean cart. Steamed veggies, chicken, tofu, noodles, etc.

The fruit carts at 9th and Chestnut (there are two) serve heaping platters of mixed fruit + a banana for 3-5 bucks, depending on size. The 3 dollar one is perfect and gives you way more than 3 dollars worth of fruit.

Lard Ass Shorts

Have you ever been lady short shopping? If not, you’re a lucky bastard.

You see, shorts manufacturers have decided that women enjoy shorts showing off every little thing that God — and Nutella — created.

Now, I’m a short lady. I hit 5′2” on a good day. But lady shorts look like they were designed for American Girl Dolls. Or Gary Coleman.

They’re hideous.

But fret not, ladies. If you head to the penile section of the store — as I did after I visibly blanched at the ladyshorts — you’ll find a cornucopia of manshorts that cover your ass as well as the top of your thighs.

Manshorts have a time and a place — and that time and place is called everyday, on the street, while out in public. Ladyshorts have a time and place too — it’s called at home, while splayed on the couch, watching crap TV on E!

Something to keep in mind.

Weird Exercise Video Wednesday

I want that hairstyle….

Lardass Doesn’t Want to be a Sedentary Lump.

I read somewhere that you’re supposed to move throughout the day, instead of emerging from your throwback iron lung every afternoon for an hour of calisthenics.

Take stairs. Don’t use moving walkways. Don’t climb in random baby carriages you see going down the street. Etc. Etc.

So I’ve been trying to implement these “non-exercise” exercises in order to trick my body into moving on a more regular basis.

For example, my good friend Beyonce does planks while she watches TV. A plank is when you stretch your body into a line and put all of your weight on your front forearm, raising your body up into a right triangle with the ground. A plank is much harder to do if you’re typing.

I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can do while studying, doing homework, doing labs, reading chemistry, and/or watching crazy music videos on YouTube. Any suggestions?

Lardass Bleeds.

I got my first period at Amy Schwartz’s house during a sleepover. When my parents picked me up, they took me out to lunch to celebrate my new womanhood. I had ravioli.

I got my last period today. At 12:37 PM. During spin class. Let me walk you through what this was like:

Spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Holy Mother of oh shit oh shit oh shit should i stop? i’m in the back of the room. oh shit shit shit. well, might as well continue…maybe? okay. breathe. breathe. oh shit she wants us to stand up. i don’t want to stand up. i either got my period or i’m bleeding out of my asshole right now. okay. probably not bleeding out my ass. breathe. Spinning Spinning. Spinning. <End Scene>

Lardass Takes in a Baseball Game

About to head to the Phillies game. They sell a sandwich called the Schmitter. It looks like this:

(from unbreaded.com)

I’m eating beforehand.

Lardass Starts Second Semester

For the next 6 weeks I’ll be up to my thighs in chemical formulas again.

Things I Would Like to Accomplish That Have Nothing to Do with Acid-Base Reactions

1. Attempt to run (I feel like my fitness level is now sufficient to attempt moving quickly with my feet on a paved surface.)

2. Beat the Kenyans in a marathon, barefoot. (After 3 weeks of limping around a track, maybe?)

3. Eat responsibly and in moderation, making sure to eat a rainbow a day and not entirely brown foods.

4. Take 4 new classes at the Temple Gym.

5. Attempt to swim (float? sink? bobble?)

Lardass Falls off the Wagon; Brutally Punishes Herself

The Spanish Inquisition perfected all sorts of torture techniques. The rack, the whip, the drawing and the quartering of the limbs.

They missed the scooping of the ice cream.

Today I scooped 36 gallons of strawberry ice cream, all in the name of charity. It was my 5th time scooping…but my first time scooping while trying to lose my babyfat. (I’ll be 25 this summer. I should probably stop calling it that.)

I scooped like a madwoman, for 5 hours straight. And I only ate one teensy tiny cup of ice cream, despite being surrounded by freezer trucks FULL OF COLD DELICIOUS FATANSTIC ICE CREAM.

And here’s why:

This weekend, as you know, I went to DC for vacation. I saw the sights: the Mall, the Smithsonian Folk Festival, the Abe Lincoln carved out of cheese. And I ate…well….I ate like I was going to be shot at the Ford Theater.

I fell off the wagon. Gained 3 of the 6 pounds I’ve lost. Attended two dinner parties, drank wine like a little fish, and watched trashy TV. And didn’t really work out that much, unless you include my hikes around the city. (I do to assuage my guilt.)

It was fabulous. And it was terrible.

And so, today, I scooped. 36 gallons. That’s like, 100,000 Ben and Jerry’s containers. My hands were sticky. My arms were sticky. And my crotch was covered in cherry water ice (someone accidentally threw a slushie at my crotch.) I smelled like a walking ice cream truck. And I didn’t partake.

So yes, the nation achieved Independence from Britain and today, I achieved independence from ice cream. Happy 4th, y’all. Tomorrow, I go back to the routine.

Lardass Takes a Hike

Yesterday instead of taking a normal, elliptical eschimptical workout, I schlepped this route:

That’s roughly 9.5 miles, give or take a yard. I tried to keep the pace up the entire time, but that was difficult — because of red lights, tourists, and stops at Whole Foods to use the (surprisingly clean) bathroom. (It took like, 4 hours to complete this roundabout journey…) That’s okay, though, because my heart rate was up generally and if I’m hiking around for a few hours (even at a slow-pace) I’m not eating…

For lunch, I ducked into Trader Joe’s and got a (surprisingly cheap) salmon, spinach and cucumber whole wheat wrap — for a snack, I grabbed a yogurt and banana. 

Today, we hit up the Smithsonian Folk Festival where I plan to dance in the Welsh tent as well as the South America tent. If you see a chubby Jew shaking her tush in full Peruvian garb, come say hi.

Lardass Notices a Change

So I’m huffing and puffing my way through a crap episode of Friends* tonight on the elliptical, when a lightbulb goes off.

Maintenance comes and quickly repairs the shattered lightbulb. They’re sweeping shards of plutonium (?) into a waste bin when I have an epiphany.

“I’m on resistance 8,” I muse. “And it’s not difficult at all.”

Yes, I have graduated, I believe, from single resistance levels on my elliptical machine. I upped the machine to 11, so I could once again feel like my entire body was stricken with the shakes. And continued happily on my way.

*The one where Chandler and Joey stupidly adopt a baby chick and Rachel breaks a rib and Monica tries to go into business with some (not core cast member) and Phoebe saves her from doing so.

Lardass Takes a Vacation

The last time I “took a vacation,” I quit my job in Chicago and moved home with my parents for 4 months while figuring out what to do with my life. It was no picnic, though I ate like it was.

The vacation before that ended in a series of broken bones and trauma in the median of a major highway in Massachusetts.

Tomorrow, I’m about to embark on a mini-vacay (for 4 days) down to Washington DC — where I hope to break zero bones and do basically nothing but relax and hang out with friends and stalk George Snuffalopagus.

I lived in DC right out of college, when I was spending the year on a fellowship at NPR. My apartment was located right next to a cupcake bakery. After work, I’d head over to the bakery and get a cupcake and coffee and write or pitch articles to various magazines — and then go home, sleep, and start the process over again.

I gained about 15 pounds during that year — and after talking to my friends with similar (non-moving, cubicle) jobs, the weight gain during that first post-college seems somewhat common. It’s no surprise: working 8 hours a day and not moving — followed by cupcake-eating and not moving — is a pretty easy way to bulk up and/or go into a diabetic coma.

So..my goal during the next four days is to a) find time to work out b) not to eat like a Lardass c) not think about anything academic whatsoever and d) enjoy the fireworks. Also, I’d like a cupcake. (Chocolate, Strawberry Icing, Slightly Microwaved.)

If I work out every day (Connecticut Avenue in DC is basically a mountain. It’s steep. I can wake up early, walk up and down it 10 or so times, ice my hamstrings and call it a day…) and I eat right almost the entire time (grocery stores, reasonable portions…) then by golly, I’m going to have my cupcake and enjoy every last strawberry-laden morsel.

(Before, I would have said to myself “You’re on vacation, have fun,” and possibly spent the four days gaining every pound I’ve so far lost. But it’s a pain in the ass to lose weight, and I only want to have to do this once — and I’m not screwing up three weeks of work to stuff my face with everything on U Street.)

Lardass Tries Kickboxing…(Tries Being the Operative Word)

Mr. Buff McBuff works out of a local gym and asked if we (college roommate, me) would like to try one of his personalized kickboxing classes.

Sure, we said. We showed up at the gym — a short walk from our house — and were intrigued to find the facility was designed by Willy Wonka. There were rooms with low doors and staircases that led to nowhere and a good collection of rooms and mirrors to confuse even the most diligent exerciser. There were also no women. And there, in the corner, was a tanning bed. Frankly, it did not resemble the dinky  Lardass gym in the basement of our building at all.

“What did this used to be, before it was a gym?” I asked Buff McB. “Hannibal Lector’s house of ill repute?”

“No,” he said. “It was a spa.”

“Spa for sociopaths,” I mumbled.

“What was that?” he said.

“Oh nothing” I said.

We went upstairs, where Buff McB led us onto a basketball court and bound up our hands (with protective gear) like a seasoned serial killer. He then introduced us to Steve, the putty-colored torso hanging out in the corner. For some odd reason, kickboxing dummy Steve was shaped like a topless man, with a sliver of boxer shorts showing. Instead of legs, Steve had a large pole connecting him to the ground. Steve was smiling.

In kickboxing, basically you kick and hit and punch Steve in rounds until you’re tired. At least, this is what you’re supposed to do in theory. I threw one punch with my left hand, grimaced, and was down for the count. As you know, I broke my hand and fingers last year in a car accident — and probably shouldn’t be hitting fake men with them. And kicking, well, kicking didn’t do much for me. I felt like I wasn’t working out harder than I do on the elliptical, and decided I probably wouldn’t try kickboxing again….

If kickboxing were a Rocky movie, I would have KO’ed way before the fight and possibly even before running around Philadelphia in a montage. As it happened, I left the gym and decided that in order to get a good workout today, I’d have to run around. And I suppose, when preparing for anything even remotely boxing-related, there’s no better place than Philly. ADRIANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

And now, for your enjoyment: a clip of what kickboxing is supposed to look like, I think (Thanks Jaime! )

Moisture Wicking T’s

Hey there my thighyas.

What’s it like to smoosh together?

It’s hotter now so the temperature,

Mean you can’t wear leather.

Oh no you can’t.

Wear tight ass pants.

Hey there my thighyas,

Are you worried about the distance,

On the elliptical, you’ve barely moved.

Now please up your resistance.

Close your eyes. Don’t order fries.

Thighs it’s what you do to me. Oh thighs, it’s what you do to me. In 90 degrees. Mmm hmm.

My Favorite Biology Slash Workout Video or…Reason #2343 I Wish I Attended Stanford in the Early 70’s

Please…fast forward to the dance scene (3:18)

Confidential to Lardasses with XX chromosomes (or variations thereof)

Ladies, ladies, ladies.

Today I decided to get one of those t-shirts that wicks away moisture so that I don’t smell like death after working out. (Death has been working extra hard this week and I didn’t want my 50-year-old loved ones to become frightened.)

So I went to CitySport Philadelphia. It’s a sporting goods store on Walnut Street, if you’re unfamiliar — and sells things like spandex and assfloss that you’re supposed to wear when you’re squatting and lunging and not reaching for the remote.

I perused the ladies section and discovered that moisture wicking t-shirts were priced around 50 bucks. 50 bucks for a t-shirt!! For 50 bucks, I want my t-shirt to be bedazzled and change color based on my mood. I was not buying a 50 dollar t-shirt.

So I went to the Penile section of the store. And behold and low, there was a t-shirt — it wicked moisture — it had sleeves and a neck scoop and other general characteristics of the t-shirt genre….and it was 11 bucks.

11 bucks. SAME EXACT T-SHIRT.

As my astute 50 year old mother said “Women are used to spending more money on clothing, so they think ‘Well, whatever, I can spend it….’ whereas a guy would just put that t-shirt down.”

So, if you’re in the market for exercise gear, head over to the XY section of the store. It’s cheaper — the earthtone fabrics compliment your Lardass, and you can spend the extra money on the (non-food) vice of your choice.

Civil War

I was reading an article about surgeons during the Civil War earlier today — basically, if you showed up on the battlefield with something sharp, you were considered a surgeon and given patients and allowed to do your thing.

I wonder what the Craigslist ad for that may have looked like. DONT WANT TO SIT IN A CUBICLE WITH YOUR QUILL??? EXCITING OPPORTUNITY IN GETTYSBURG $$$$ MAKE MONEY FA$T.
Freelance surgeons needed for week long bloodbath. WILL GAIN EXPERIENCE IN FAST-PACED NON-OFFICE ENVIRONMENT.

Slacking

During the fall, I will be taking biology, physics and organic chemistry — along with bio lab, physics lab, and orgo lab.

This is like, a gajillion hours of class a week, plus labs to write up, recitation quizzes, tests, MCAT prep, etc.

My biggest fear is that I won’t have enough time to work out.

Take this weekend, for example.

I have a chemistry final on Monday. Yesterday, I plopped down in a park — in my exercise gear, so I’d HAVE to work out — and studied for a while. Took a walk, studied, walked back home, napped, studied some more, memorized some stuff, realized it was 2AM — and went to bed.

Today I managed a measly 30 minutes on the stationary bike (the remedial room of exercise equipment.) Now it’s back to studying.

I know people balance their work and exercise lives all the time — but I never ever have. I’m likely to put off exercise if I have something major on my plate (like yesterday) or if I’m working a lot or if I have to study.

I’m really working hard to change the way my brain thinks about exercise, but I think this is my biggest problem. Exercise Procrastination.

Is anyone reading this an exercise procrastinator? What did you do? So far, I have been working out daily — or almost daily — but I’m worried that my brain will want to eventually stop. I know it’s supposed to become part of a lifestyle yadda yadda but that’s harder said sometimes than done.

Yah?

Potential reasons for Lardass’s Lard Ass

1. Playboy names “America’s Best Sandwiches” There are 10 listed. As of today, I’ve consumed 4 of them. Any one of them could be classified as “pregaming for a bypass.”

2. Nutella.

3. After my car accident, people sent me baked goods in honor of surviving. Whoo! I ate them all. But then, I took their kind gestures as signs that I should continue to eat baked goods, in honor of surviving.

4. Lack of movement.*

*Working on this. Today, I power-walked 2 miles to Penn and back, to study. Yesterday, I did HIIT on the elliptical. Two days ago, cardio + weights. Three, cardio. Four, Spinning.

Lardass’s Face Appears Noticably Thinner. Lardass is Not Even Sucking in Her Cheeks like a Fish.

Underwater Medicine

I was online last night looking at various medical programs and discovered this little gem. Yes, you can become a specialist in underwater medicine.

Put your office 20,000 leagues under the sea. Nurse Ariel and Nemo back to health. Wear scuba flip flops to work.

This sounds like a Disney movie slash medical drama just WAITING to be picked up by network television. In my head, it’s half-animated, half not. So George Clooneyesque physicians would be intently listening to Ariel’s wish to have two legs and then make the incision WHICH YOU WOULD SEE and then it would switch back to cartoon land and everyone would sing and dance and go to weeks of physical therapy to heal the large muscle wounds in their animated legs.

Scales

I weighed myself 3 times today and my mass flucuated by 9 pounds.

This tells me three things.

1) Never eat 9 pounds of Oreo cookies

2. Never trust scales

3) Maybe if I weigh myself again it will be off by 35 pounds.

Weight Loss

After 2 weeks, I’ve lost 3.7 pounds. This is great news!

Limited Too, here I come! (j/k)

Enablers

I spent last night at my parents, where I lounged and studied chemistry.

In the process, I swiped a handful of M&M’s; two bran muffins; a pint of blueberries; a peach; two pieces of whole wheat bread with peanut butter; and a whole wheat tortilla with chicken and a bit of cheese.

Not bad.

Things I have Learned

a) Taut thighs are my Schrodinger’s Cat. Put my thighs in a box with a scale and at some point they will exist in that box and also be thin. Yet, when we look in the box, we see the thighs as either chubby and thin, not a mixture of chubby and thin.

b) Wheat Thins are my Weapons of Mass Destruction. They’re no longer allowed anywhere near the premises. Please advise the UN Security Council.

c) The atomic radius of my ass is somewhere between anion and neutral atom. (I’m taking a chemistry final on Monday. Anions are HUGE. Cations are tiny.)

d) On a chemistry lab recently, we were asked to guess what element we were working with, based on various characteristics. I was tempted to write down reactive plutonium, just to see what the teacher would say. (This has nothing to do with losing 35 pounds; it just amuses me.)

I’m Pretty Sure I’m Turning Into

The Jared of Wawa

Look at that beauterific specimen of a sandwich. Calories? 370. Fat? 2.5. Protein? 34. I’m going to cut down on the Hot Peppers, on account of the sodium…and maybs. substitute Low Sodium Turkey….but that’s a fantastic 3.00 lunch that doesn’t require cooking, baking, schlepping, or talking to any other humans (because WaWa is automated.)

Lardass goes to a Spinning Class

In Rumplestiltskin, a miller’s daughter is given instructors on how to spin straw into gold.

Today I was given instructions on how to spin lard into lithe.

I signed up for Spinning at the Temple Gym with Hipbones G. I have never spun anything save a good yarn (har har) but thought since the majority of my lard is in my thighs and ass, spinning might be able to tone and flatten, while burning calories.

And thighs. My thighs are currently at Weeble Wobble level and I think I fell twice going down the stairs after class was over.

The instructor barely broke a sweat. During class, I cursed the day she was born under my breath. And then thanked her at the end. That’s how these things work. No hard feelings, Spin Instructor.

We started out on our seats and then quickly climbed an imaginary hill. We then climbed an imaginary mountain, followed by an imaginary barefoot climb up a mountain covered in glass shards.

My thighs hurt. My stomach hurts. And honestly, this is the first workout that I’ve done that I really absolutely enjoyed. Heading back Friday for more.

When they say spinning class, do they mean the room after it’s over?

Yogurt

Plus Peanut Butter + Bananas = Yum.

The Most Read Story on the NYTimes

Is called: Are your ab exercises hurting your back?

::Shakes Magic 8 ball::

It is decidedly so.

Eating Decently — Not Working Out

I’m not working out today to give my back a teensy little bit of extra time to recover from Sunday’s disastre.

But I am continuing to not stuff my face with everything in sight.

Three elliptical rotations forward, four back.

In other news, my MCAT preparation is almost officially 1/8 of the way done. I am finished Chemistry 1 after the week — and barring any disasters along the line of “THE BACK INCIDENT OF 2009″ should finish up with two solid marks. At least I’ll get to one of the 35s…maybe.

Cottage Cheese for Breakfast? Has our Little Lardass Gone INSANE?

Answer: No. Cottage Cheese mixed with a dab of Trader Joe’s Blueberry Preserves is actually quite tasty with an added bonus: protein!

What is next?

How Lardass Spent Her Weekend

The Missing Link

I woke up this morning with back pain and back spasms, which I’m guessing have something to do with either (a) the economy or (b) the weight lifting I did yesterday. (Shit.)

I’ve never had back spasms before. I cannot extend my hands to touch my toes, nor can I really move in an upright position. I believe I devolved overnight.

This morning, I hobbled to Walgreen’s for a heating pad and plan to spend the rest of the day in bed or on the couch, studying for my chemistry final.

I’m hoping this is temporary and that I’ll wake up tomorrow and feel fine, but I’m going to take it easy today. Grr.

The Blinking Green Light

A long, long time ago, I read The Great Gatsby. It’s not a book I’d put on my Top 10, but whatev — it’s a “classic.” (Want to ensure your family’s financial future? Write a novel brimming with symbolism and make sure it becomes mandatory reading for every 11th grader in the country. )

In college, I often used TGG in papers to illustrate the last hurrah of the 20’s — the opulence and the riches and overwhelmingness of a decade that would end in ‘29 with the crash. (The Fitzgerald of today should be writing her novel about an analyst at Goldman Sachs who invested with Bernie Madoff and now has to give up her iPhone and rent out her Hamptons villa in the summer to *sniff* people from New Jersey.)

But I digress.

Three weeks ago, I had my own little Gatsbyesque celebration. It was over the top edible opulance — and I think it marked the end of an era. Check out this redonkulous spread and know that my body is now out of Gatsby and totally into Grapes of Wrath mode…

Lardass Loses a Pound, She Thinks

Lithe Tramp, here I come.

I weighed myself using an ancient contraption in the basement of my building today. Based on the pulleys and knobs and such, I believe I’ve lost a pound this week.

This is fantastic news. I haven’t lost this many pounds since the dollar fluctuated in 2001.

My goal is to lose between 1 and 2 pounds a week. Highlights of the week include: having the Pilates instructor ask if she could help move my legs (no); ellipticalling to the sex scene in Top Gun (GOOSE. NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!) and sadly, hearing that my local gelateria burned down (sad for them, happy for thighs.)

Next week: spinning, personal trainer #2, something called abs/ass/thighs at the Temple Gym, taking my chemistry lab final, running the Art Museum steps like Rocky.

Lardass Gets Gelato

I’m going out for gelato tonight with one of my best friends and a famous food blogger, who went to high school with said best friend.

BUT…I’m justifying it by saying “The gelato place near my house burned down so walking the extra 9 blocks to the other gelato place will burn off a significant number of calories.”

No, it won’t. You know what to do, Internet.

UPDATE: Tahini and dark chocolate gelato. SO WORTH IT.

Lardass visits a Personal Trainer

My college roommate and I live in the same building. We also happen to be the exact same height and weight — and are both trying to lose the same lardpounds from our lardstomach and lardass respectively.

(I blame my thighs on her father’s frozen Italian gravy in our freezer during college.)

College Roommate noticed a personal trainer would be appearing in our building’s gym for free sessions for anyone who wanted one and decided to sign up. I went with her.

The personal trainer was awesome. He immediately decided that we’d do a circuit routine involving push ups, sit ups (using a bar), tricep curls, triceratops curls, bicep something-or-others, leg lifts, side kicks, ab racadabras, and hip shaking.

And here’s the best part: he taught us how to use weights.

I’ve never touched free weights in my life. They scare me. I am worried that I’ll a) drop one b) get hurt c) throw my back out d) throw a dumbell and take someone else’s back out.

Have no fear, said Mr. Buff McBuff. We flexed and pulsed and circled around the equipment — and lost 30 pounds signed up for twice weekly sessions all summer long.

Maybe my abs will make an appearance before Groundhog Day….if they see their shadow this summer.

Lardass at the Diner

To celebrate my brother Mike’s graduation from high school today, my family went to our local diner for dinner.

It’s become an ongoing joke in the Kramer family that we go to the diner to celebrate major events instead of going to a fancy restaurant. We’re not fancy restaurant people.

We went to the diner after my graduation from high school and college — as well as my brother Steven’s graduation from high school and college. I suspect we’ll go there when Steven graduates from medical school and I graduate from medical school and Mike graduates from college and then medical school. My parents go to the diner every Sunday with my grandmothers and aunts and uncles and cousins. I went to this diner every week after marching band competitions in high school and then after pit orchestra and concerts and nights out with friends. We’ve — as in the Kramers — have been going to this particular diner since the 1960’s.

We’re creatures of habit.

Tonight, though, I broke the mold. My old diner meal usually involved the three diner food groups: sticky, salty, and grease. French toast, tater tots, mozzerella sticks, pie, milkshakes, diner-licious food etc.

Not tonight. Tonight, I ordered a smoked salmon platter. A bagel, some onions, some tomatoes, and smoked salmon. It was delicious and filling and really quite nice — without the grease and stickiness and salt and Boston creme.

Yum.

A Healthy Recipe from the Weight Loss Queen

I met the Weight Loss Queen right before I left Chicago. We went out for dinner, natch — and she confided that she recently lost a ton of weight. She looked good. I mean gooood. Not sickly — not underweight — just…healthy.

How’d she do it? Well, she moved and she grooved and she also started modifying recipes, to satisfy cravings without the calories.

Weight Loss Queen is reading this blog and has volunteered to contribute some of the recipes she concocted during the past months. Enjoy!

Weight Loss Queen’s Cookie Dough

okay, so this is more like cookie *dough* than a cookie, but it’s pretty satisfying and that’s important in a breakfast. it helps that it has the word “cookie” in it.

1/3 cup rolled oats (sometimes called “old-fashioned”; you want ones that have some heft to them; Quaker Oats will do, but you don’t want the flakier, “instant” kind)
* Optional: 1 tbsp. brown rice protein powder (and/or about 1 tsp. ground flax seed) – i found that whole foods sells smaller “trial” packets of protein powder. because i was just trying this out i was not necessarily committed about purchasing the regular sized protein tubs. they’re huge! so i went with the $1.50 whey protein in vanilla. i figured it would give it a cookier flavor. cookier.
1 tbsp. raw almond butter (or other nut butter – i used peanut, again because i did not know if i was going to like this and didn’t want to spend $7 on almond butter)
About 1/8 cup unsweetened almond milk (or other milk – I used vanilla soy because when I turned 30 lactose & I get along sporadically)
About 1/8 cup frozen blueberries (here is where you can change it up– I tried this with blueberries but THEN i tried it with some dried cherries and chocolate chips! cinnamon would be great with raisins, too.)

Direction:
Combine oats, protein powder, and almond butter in a small bowl. Mix with a spoon until the almond butter is well-distributed. Add the milk and stir to combine. Add the blueberries/dried fruit/whatever and stir until evenly distributed (when i used frozen blueberries they thawed out overnight so it didn’t even matter i just kind of pressed them in after making the “cookie”). Transfer mixture to a salad plate and press evenly, until it’s about 1/8” thick. Chill in the refrigerator overnight (this helps it set up).

It’s about 300 calories or so, give or take. I am not sure if you’re counting calories. I go back and forth on the merits of calorie counting. I think it’s important to know how many calories you should have. And what constitutes a portion and then experiment based on your activity levels.

It could be summed up pretty well with this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKs0oEIVOck

Carrie

I’m taking the day off from the gym. If you’ve ever seen the 1976 movie Carrie, you’ll know why.

And now I have to go string up a bucket of pig blood in my high school gym.

The Word Lardass

There’s been some talk about the use of the word “lardass.” One of my mother’s friends suggested I call myself “Reubenesque.” After clarification, she said she meant the painter…not the Arby’s sandwich.

You can call me anything you want. I like the term lardass because to me, it’s motivating. I don’t have self-esteem issues. I’m not suffering from some odd body complex. I just want to get myself to a healthier BMI, while hopefully having a lot of fun in the process. Working out sucks but I absolutely love to write — therefore, if I have to write about working out, I’ll do it — begrudgingly — in order to write about it willingly. Everyone wins.

Tragedy Unfolds

Before the last chemistry test, I parked my lardass in a gelato shop called Capogiro to study. I got half burnt sugar and half avocado — and went to town on atomic structures.

Yesterday, the gelato case overheated and started a large fire. Capogiro is now closed. My guess is that the burnt sugar gelato turned into very, very burnt sugar gelato. (In chemistry, we would say this was an exothermic reaction….)

If only tragedy could befall the other 11 ice cream stores within a mile of my house….

Lardass Saves Half a Meal for a Rainy Day….

Today I did something that I’ve rarely, if ever, done. I took notes in class.

No, I’m kidding. I always take notes in class.

But after class, I purchased a turkey wrap from a food cart and packed up half for “later.”

I was full after eating half the turkey wrap (whole wheat, tomatoes, 3 dollars) and proud of myself for not scarfing down the entire thing.

I’m used to rewarding myself with food. After my last chemistry test (last week), I went to 7-11 and got a Slurpee. During college, I used to start my homework after going to Wawa. In Chicago, I’d get bored and google “tres leches cake” and then find the nearest “tres leches” dealer for a fix.

My next chemistry test is tomorrow. It’s on Energy. We learned that the total amount of energy in any system equals the amount of products minus the amount of reactants.

In Lardass terms, that means if you drink a Big Gulp Slurpee and don’t elliptical the equivalent of that Big Ass Slurpee, it’ll go straight to your thighs. And your ass.
So after the test tomorrow, I’m not going to beeline to 7-11 for a food reward. I’m going to go to the gym.