Friday, September 30, 2011

Falling for Autumn Ensembles

I've been really MIA lately. I know. I have been lsat cramming and training for my new job. And with a new blog which has a slightly wider appeal, I am feeling like this blog is even more aimless. But rather than give up, I think the answer is more pretty pictures. Right?

So do you know what a new job and a determination to put up some more pretty pictures results in? More "I want" albums. Because what is prettier than clothing? Clothing that I could, possibly own. And I think fashion blogs the Northern Hemisphere round have been lusting for fall outfit opportunities. Fall in Alberta, while not as visually stunning as autumn out East - our trees don't turn red here, just yellow and brown - is beautifully temperate. Ok, ok - that sounds lame. But it means that it doesn't pour, and it isn't so humid that you go from too hot to too cold like it did in Montreal.

not entirely deprived of beauty though, right?
I also find that Alberta does have a certain charm this time of year. Maybe it's because I was raised with Golden Retrievers, and Golden Retrievers are always most charming in fall...
so charming, right?

 But my aim is not to convince you Fall is the best. It just is, dignified old dogs or not. I am here to share with you my dream Autumn outfit. After a tempting trip to Holt Renfrew and a thorough perusal of ShopBop, I bring you what I intend to buy with my first three pay checks.



Falling for Autumn Ensembles


EQUIPMENT silk blouse, £230
3 1 Phillip Lim long cardigan, $795
True Religion boyfriend jeans, $490
Rag & Bone leather boots, $490
Kate Spade leather shoulder bag, $445
Rag Bone fedora hat, $150
Etro Silk Bow Tie Purple One Size, $110


 Ok. So this outfit would cost me approximately 3'000.00$. Give or take. Divide by minimum wage, carry the nth... It will be February before I don this ensem...

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Diet Shame

Team! It's been forever! How are you? Awesome. Me? Oh I've been busy, you know. Ok - small talk aside, I've really been trying to identify what exactly it is about Calgary that saps my desire to post. I think I'm growing increasingly accustomed to a life of mediocrity - my nights have consisted of watching my parents' appalling television choices and tucking myself into bed with an audiobook by 10:30. Last night we ate chocolates and had a glass of wine, making it the most exciting night I've had in about two weeks. I am determined, however, to not be ok with this. While a cozy night in is, honestly, great most of the time, I would like to actually have plans. And I haven't. Or have, and bailed, because leaving my suburban cocoon just sometimes takes more effort that I feel willing to expend.

Project "Fun Calgary" will commence next week. Why next week? Because I start making money next week. Ye haw Calgary, ye haw.


Ok, so none of this has to do with diets, though shame of my premature middle age is hopefully apparent. Another reason I haven't been posting is because I've been really back and forth in my mind about whether I wanted to admit to the blogosphere what I am going to admit to you right now: I am on a diet. And I don't just mean casually watching my calories or trying to eat healthier - when I'm doing that, I say that. I'm on a honest to goodness, book-written-by-doctor type diet. I didn't buy this book, by the way, nor would the diet have been something I would have done on my own accord - it is a by-product of living with my mum, but I'm doing it, baby.

So, I'm not actually going to get into the diet - the 17 Day diet (a total misnomer, by the by) - at this particular junction. I am more curious about the fact that I debated even mentioning it. Intrigued by the fact that, when it comes up in conversation, which it somehow, inevitably and painfully always does, I always try to pass it off as something I'm doing in solidarity with my parents, rather than something I started before, and have continued to do more faithfully, than either.

It is exactly that difference between "watching what I eat" or "eating a bit more healthy" and being "on a diet." If you follow fitness blogs they will almost all abhor diets; their authors' insist that they just eat a healthy, balanced diet and, my least favourite phrase ever, "just listen to what their body needs." My body insists that it needs a sugar boost after every meal. It insists that sugar be in the form of chocolate. My mind-body connection is not so hot - my mind is a dictator who likes chocolates and dislikes my pathetic, complaining knees. I don't know that I'm all that unique in that regard though - how many people do you honestly know who can say "my body just really wanted something green" or "I just needed some protein," who aren't utterly full of bullshit? My mind tells my body those things using logic and research: "Yo body, you will get scurvy if you don't put spinach in you" or "You just worked out - protein builds muscle - eat it." Before my inner monologue totally derails me from my point here, I will make it; to admit that you are on a diet points to a flaw in your will power. You can't just intuitively do something good for you, it has to be dictated and formulaic. And this paints you as a weak person. But following a clear set of guidelines is what I need. And the same goes for a lot of people. Because, guess what, a lot of people are overweight. Most people, in fact. I'm not even overweight, but my impulse control is negligible unless I can give myself a very concrete reason why refusing one more chocolate or a glass of wine will make a difference. And a diet does just that.

Despite the fact that most people have a hard time making the right choices when it comes to nutrition, and particularly weight loss, there is some very bad vibes that get directed at those who take the route of a prescribed diet. Yeah, it is a consumerist thing, making doctors richer for writing books full of things that should be mostly common sense, blah, blah, communism, blah. I get that. But why do people always give you a look like, "Oh...?" as though your diet is actually a second head growing out of your armpit? I like to tell myself that it makes them re-evaluate their own dietary choices and feel insecure, but I really don't think that's it. That's just what people on diets tell themselves: "they're just jealous because I'm doing something about my weight." Uh, no - they're eating cake and ribs. They are not jealous of your baked chicken breast, wilted spinach and soda water. It's because they've suddenly realized that your are vain and insecure and don't have a) the strength to change things for yourself without a book or support system holding your hand or b) you aren't imaginative enough to come up with an excuse that doesn't open you up to such scrutiny. "Oh, yeah, I'm not drinking beer right now because I've been casking my own Irish whisky all day and I'm basically drunk already," or "you know, I heard that they found a human heart at the Lilydale factory in Glenridge" would be responses that would certainly debunk judgment much more effectively than "oh, I'm on this diet."
 
But guess what else - diets can work! Most diets today come with weening phases where they admit "yeah, we've changed what foods you can and can't eat, but by doing so we've also changed the foods you crave and the way you approach your meals." Which is really just a long road to getting to the "I just eat a healthy, balanced diet," phase which elicits no societal sneer. I have been on this bad boy diet for 20 days, and I have lost an inch and half from my waist and weigh less than I ever have in my adult life. So when I tell you I'm on a diet, it is not an invitation for you to comment on my weight or evaluate my body perception. If I tell you I'm not having a beer because I'm on a diet, I don't want to hear "You don't need to be on a diet! You're crazy!" Shut up. I'm on a diet because I have goals, man! And those goal include looking really sexy while I still am at an age where that is relatively easy to accomplish.

So viva the diet - haters, go hate elsewhere. With fries if you like. They look tasty.

Friday, September 16, 2011

The New Love of my Life

Again, fret not - this love is certainly not a strapping young Calgarian boy who has swept me off my feet. No no - though I bet she could perform just that feat. Literally.

I'm in love with Tracy Anderson.

digitally.

And while the rare, eccentric few some of you may be humming the strains of 'N Sync's single-that-wasn't Digital Get Down, but it's not like that [that being "digital, digital get down - just you and me. You may be  Twenty thousand miles away but I can see ya, and baby, baby you can see me," should you not be acquainted with this Aught-pop seminal classic]. I am in love with Tracy Anderson, personal trainer to the stars, and her workout webisodes.

So I have obviously been down in the dumps lately about my knee. I have constrained myself to the bike and eliptical, I have taken a pass on the injury inducing culprit, yoga, and my chances of performing worth a damn in my upcoming race has taken a severe hit, and accordingly, so has my self esteem. So I've been looking for some fitness solace. And it came to me in the weirdly-disproportionate-yet-angelic form of Tracy Anderson.

My friend K had purchased the trainer's rather pricey (and very intense!) Metamorphosis program - it consists of a cardio-dance DVD (which after one attempt I staunchly refused to ever do again), a nutrition plan, and 9 workouts of increasing difficulty that should carry you through 90 days of work outs (you take off one day for every ten). K brought it down with us to my cabin and we gave to it the old college try. And holy shit. For a workout DVD, it was fucking hard. I actually felt incompetent and ill-equipped to own legs. So with a sense of my own mortality, I trolled the internet for any online work out vids from Tracy. And lo and behold, there are some. They aren't as tough as the DVD, naturally (chick's gotta make a profit, yo), but they are very worth doing. Doing either the 9-minute ab video or the 16-minute butt one leaves me dripping sweat. Dripping I say!

So check her out. Her method is to attack the smaller muscle groups to try to tighten where ever it is you believe you need tightening. So expect it to feel weird and to burn (but on the plus side, because they aren't muscles you use that much, you wont be all that sore the next day).


And before I leave you to the clutches of Ms Anderson, I want to give a big thanks for the support I've had for the newly emancipated Sexual Cynic blog. A blog with a consistent theme and humorous content? Who'd have thought that would go over well? Maybe some day soon I will get to hang out with the Man Repeller, ostracized by alpha males who we'd openly mock the bedroom prowess of anyhow.



Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Laid Up

But not knocked up! But still, not pleased.

This little knee twinging that I was all ready to write off as nothing, turns out to be kinda something. As in a reinjury of my miniscus. I am super bummed out right now. It's sore and unsteady and clicking. And at the worst time! I am so unprepared for this run and can't get out, and I just bought a month-unlimited membership to yoga. I am just feeling like my body is not going to let me return to the athleticism I had obtained before this injury.

I want to cry.

Monday, September 12, 2011

"Things I learned About Running: Week 1" And Other News!

Hey team. So lots of new and exciting stuff going on in this chilly Cowtown as of late. First, however, let me regail you with the findings of a week's worth of 5k training (read: two whole runs...)

Running requires diligent toe nail maintenance. It didn't dawn on me when the woman at the Running Room told me that most people buy their running shoes almost a full size larger that the reason was "because otherwise your toenails will fall off." Don't worry - that didn't happen! But after my first run, my second (or middle?) toe ached for days (yes, I am one of those blessed with second toes longer than their big toe). Clip clip clip.

Everyone in Calgary waters their sidewalks at 8:30 am. After making the mistake of running too late in the morning and subjecting myself to the blaring 30 degree heat, I opted for an early morning run. Well everyone in my community uses the same logic when it comes to lawn watering. Except their automatic spinklers aren't aimed wholly at their lawns. I had to dip, dodge, and eventually just subject myself to a face-full of cold water.

Mind over matter. I received what would be runner-up for the worst wax of my life this week. The girl (Ria at Frilly Lilly, if you're curious) was lovely and sweet, and we chatted up a storm, but this apparently distracted her from the task at hand, explaining why she ripped off some 2-inch square layers of epidermis from my legs. And not just my legs. Leaving it there. What does this have to do with running? Well Ria was telling me that she is training for a half-marathon, and spoke about how running was just so much mind over matter. Well, while panting and making plans to stop early, or walk longer on my second training run, I thought "my mind has GOT to be stronger than this chick's." And I shaved 7 minutes off my first 5k time. Thanks Ria.

Nurse Injuries. So if you were thinking "2 runs in one week?" I know. I skipped Saturday's run. I had opted to have Friday as my day off, but was lured back to yoga. I figured it would be recooperative! But alas, I left with a rather wobbly right knee, which, if you remember correctly, I had torn the miniscus of pretty much exactly a year ago. So I took the advice of one and all (nope - could not find a single person who thought I should push through it) and took Saturday's run off. I hit the gym yesterday, did the bike and performed my inaugural T Band stretch, bought a brace, and will be hitting the pavement later today.

Ok, so in addition to these running revelations of mine, I have an exciting announcement: The Sexual Cynic has graduated into its own blog! Now, my last foray into blog-juggling didn't turn out so well (Being and Burgs, alas, never really took off), however, I have high hopes. And for those of you who check here periodically hoping to mock sex positions only to see me complaining about running or my parents or pining over shoes, well, bookmark the new site baby!

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Sexual Cynic: Women's Health, Always Looking Out For the Little Guy

So the blog has been very fitness-centric lately. Run, run, run, yoga, yoga, yoga, blah, blah, blah: let's talk about sex (baby) already! And it's true - it is high time I turn my attention away from my lady crush on Tracy Anderson, and towards the potential benefits of doing her sadistic butt and thighs workout. I mean, living at home with my parents has doubtless killed my mojo, but what is the point of losing weight and getting in shape if no one is going to see these almost-abs of mine? And as you know, I am a very modest young lady, which means no torso bearing garments for me - the only answer is full frontal nudity. Hopefully in a consensual-for-all parties environment. Though the prospect of becoming a baffling female flasher does have its appeal.

And one more brief aside: when I type "Women's" into my search engine, it first pops up the link to the Women's Health "Best Sex Positions Ever!" site - second is shopbop.com. What does this say about me? It says I am the worst feminist ever.

So here is a true story - it happened to a friend of a friend of mine - and I call it...

Flatiron
Holy shit - a sex position named after a hairstyling tool that I want nowhere near my vagina - please, for the love of God, tell me more Women's Health. But wait, hold your horses, before we delve into the glory of this toe-curling-orgasm-waiting-to-happen, you need to know how Women's Health guided me to this position. It turns out that you can set a series of criteria to help WH generate the position best suited to you and your man's abilities. And so, because I thought it would be funny, but also maybe realistic, I set my standards low: Flatiron is the position recommended for completely inflexible women having sex with poorly endowed minute men. Enjoy! But how?

You lie facedown on the bed, legs straight, hips slightly raised.

I am not against the idea of sex on your belly per-se - I'm as lazy as the next girl, so positions that transfer as quickly as possible from sex to nap are bomb in my books - but I really wish it showed us her face. You know, so this looked a little less smothery, rapey, found-you-taking-a-naked-nap-and-went-to-towny. I don't know if I'm just being a prude (ok, yes, I do know I'm being a prude) but there is something about this that doesn't scream consensual sex. But now, flushing images of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo out of my awful mind, what exactly are our benefits-a-plenty that we shall reap from this particular tantric foray? 

This position creates a snug fit. Your guy’s stuff will seem even larger.  

His stuff? What, like his car keys and day's receipts? You construct an entire manual on sexual positions and you can't throw out words like member, shaft, or even, dare I suggest it, penis? (The Sexual Cynic would like to take a moment here to clarify that she in no way approves of the use of the word member outside of trashy harlequin romance excerpts found in the back of Cosmo. It's use should be limited at all times, if not out-right prohibited. Thank you.) So here we go though! If you aren't taking time out from your Cirque du Soliel doubles training with your massively endowed man-friend to have sex, here's an alternative! But again, the "snug fit" thing screams "not supposed to be having sex in this position" which screams "non-consensual sex." Just a bit? But at least your guy's STUFF will seem larger while you're shaking away mental anxiety about a possible penchant for rape fantasies. What bonus should we add into this sexy and considerate mix, WH?

Some shallow thrusts and deep breathing will help him last longer.

I don't even know what to say. Thank you. Thank you WH for realizing that the owness for good sex isn't based solely on a woman's in-depth magazine research - there's (sometimes) a guy there too. And he's gots to work, damn it. I must admit here that reading this suggestion makes me snigger a bit. And I feel awful. I get that this is a problem, but it really feels like WH staff sat around and thought "ok - let's come up with a position for guys who suck in bed." This position really is crafted for a guy with a minuscule penis who just doesn't have longevity. I'm shocked the bonus doesn't include doing 2-4 shots of tequila (but no more, for the love of God!) - I hear that makes it nay-impossible to, cough, arrive early. But for all the flack I give WH for holding us to unrealistic sexual standards, they finally realized that sex in real life, sadly, sometimes involved small penises and premature ejaculation.

A toast to you, Women's Health - Looking out for sexual underdogs since this lone position was unearthed and was christened the Flatiron.



ohmyGod - is Flatiron a small penis joke?  

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

My First 5K

I did it kids! I logged my first 5k! Notice I said "logged" and not "ran." This bitty needs to do some serious training if I am going to pull off running all 5k in, oh,  26 days time. OhGodohGodohGod. Frightening! I tried to run for 2 minutes and walk every third. And that was painful but working until I got kinda lost. The park behind my house has become decidedly overgrown since I last jaunted around it, so I missed the turn that I had mapped out for myself. Realizing this, I knew I wasn't up for running MORE than my allotted 5.1K, and so walked my way back, only to find the hill path overgrown and unrunable. But still steep and tiring. Conclusion: I'm pooped. Pooped kids, pooped. In fact, I recorded the moment of my triumphant return for posterity's stake






Gosh - aren't I pretty. My face looks much less red, given the maroon background, but trust me, I was a tomato. That look of concern is "twenty.six.days????"



My game plan is to attempt the 5k every other day, with yoga/gym on alternate days. Sunday as a rest day, perhaps. I refuse to look like this at the end of the run!

Which reminds me, thanks very much to the (albeit few) of my lovely friends who have donated on my behalf. I still have a bit to go to reach my goal, so if you haven't donated, please do! Seriously, 5$ would mean the world, and think about all the ways you've spent 5$ that were far less honourable.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Fit Fit Hooray

Oh so cheesy. Naming posts is the worst. Anyhow, with this new resolution to run I have also been embarking on some healthy eating and general fitness, and therefore to the internet for research. I found this lovely photo on Strive to Be Healthy's tumblr, and thought it was kind of perfect.


I am all about trying to reappropriate the parts of your body you take greatest issue with and trying to see them for their positive qualities. My thighs are definitely my achilles heel (uh...can I say that?) when it comes to body image. They just don't seem to conform with the rest of my body, which is fairly trim and athletic. Each thigh is only 5 inches smaller than my waist - the definition of pear shaped. ugh

But - they are also mad strong. At my peak strength training I could squat just shy of 400lbs. And when it comes to rugby, my thighs were invaluable. Check me out, gettin' all slow and takin' this girl out;
 


Also - cool thing I was just reading. About water. So as cool a thing about water can be. Apparently doctors are starting to realize the limitations of the old "drink 8 glasses (8oz) of water a day" rule of thumb. According to Dr Mike Moreno, physician behind the 17 Day Diet, the better rule of thumb, which takes into account different body size, is to take your weight, divide it in half, and that is the number of ounces of water you should be drinking a day. So while the old wisdom would have me, and everyone, drinking 64 ounces of water, according to Moreno I should in fact be drinking 71 ounces. Kinda cool, yeah?

Thursday, September 1, 2011

And So It Begins...

Aside from the challenge of fundraising for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation it is dawning on, nay, looming over me that I also will have to actually run. Five. Kilometers. Which also means I will have to take this brand new, shining month to train so that I can actually feasibly run 5k.

This seems like an alarming amount of running.

Furthermore, I am going to have to be doing some serious injury-preventing yoga during all this. I did a leg workout two days ago, and already my problematic hamstrings are reminding forcibly of their limitations.

So, to make sport of this overwhelming amount of lung-shredding, leg-aching, red-faced exercise, I thought I would track my evolution as a runner.

First, the physical:

As of September 1st I weighed in at 144 lbs, with the following measurements:
Bust -35 34.25 inches
(hallucinated/dreamed up that 35...)
Waist - 28.5 inches
Hips - 35.5 inches
Thighs - 23.5 inches
The fitness:

I managed to do 24 minutes on the treadmill, running (6) 3 minutes on, 1 minute walk (4), and made it 2.5 kilometers. Oh GOD!

The Gear:
I have a pair of two year old crosstrainers, an ipod touch, all my yoga spandex and the newly acquired and entirely requisite pink running jacket.

Finally, how it feels:

some panicky lung-burning after about 16 minutes, and some really sore hamstrings. It isn't quite fun yet...
So with my pride now hanging on this rather publicly, I had better start mapping out some kind of training schedule. One that works around my LSAT course and my as-of-yet-pending job schedule.