Fit or Fail: Vegas Edition

FIT: Everything in Vegas is FARRRRRRRRRRRRR. Really, really far. Like miles and miles away. And when you're two young people with limited resources? You refuse to take cabs. And even if you give in and take the monorail on the last day because your blisters are really bad and you pulled both of your calves, it takes HALF AN HOUR to walk through the MGM to get to the ENTRANCE of the monorail... So, yeah, we walked A LOT.

FAIL: Dessert... frozen hot chocolates... milkshakes... chocolate ganache between two glazed donuts so it looks like a burger... totally worth it, though.

FIT: Um... I'll have to think about that.

FAIL: Frozen alcoholic drinks from slushy machines served in oversized souvenier cups... probably not the healthiest, but pretty damn awesome.

FIT: Over-priced stuck up restaurants that serve TINY portions so you don't have a lot to eat.

FAIL: Eating too much meat.

FIT: Sitting at the slot machine for a long time because pushing that button over and over again is TOTALLY a workout...

Now we're back and I'm getting on track. I'm watching what I eat and exercising again.

But I really miss the dessert.

Confessions of a Born-Again Omnivore

I've been a vegetarian for almost two years.

Sort of.

I still ate fish. And I adopted the Joey Tribbiani rule and ate meat when I was overseas.

(Greece is not Greece without a gyro.)

But recently I've been thinking a lot about why I wasn't eating meat. I've never been someone who thought that eating meat was wrong, or "not natural"... I absolutely think that eating meat is okay... but for a time I decided that it wasn't for me.

Lately, though, I realized that I wasn't eating meat because I didn't want to let OTHER people down (mostly my vegetarian friends and family members)... and that's not a good way to live.

So I've decided that at this point in my life, I'm eating meat. If I change my mind sometime in the future, so be it.

With all of that said, I have some advice for those of you who ever change from eating little to no meat to making it a more substantial part of your diet.

It's not the BEST idea to go to Vegas and visit a restaurant that has "all-you-can-eat-meat-on-skewers" a few days after you start eating it again...

Because even if you don't eat a TON of food... you will probably eat ENOUGH of the pork and grilled pineapple or things wrapped in bacon, and then you will regret it.

Especially when you have to walk a few miles back to your hotel.

And even though you'll try to make it back to your room, you'll probably end up throwing up in an alley next to some hotel (don't worry... it was one of the older, tacky ones, so it doesn't really matter) in front of a whole crowd of people...

It's one thing to throw up in Vegas because you had too much fun drinking at the bars... but throwing up because you ate too much pork? Embarrassing.

Really, really embarrassing.

And kind of sad.

So... if you ever make the change back to omnivore-y... take it slow.

Persuasion

I came up with an excellent plan to keep Bonnie from barking.

Each time she barks, one dollar from her allowance goes into a bucket, aptly named "The Bark Bucket".

(It's the same concept as having to put a dollar in a jar every time you cuss... not that I have a problem with that.)

But when I told Bonnie about my plan? She ran outside and barked.

Which is pretty much like giving me the middle finger.

(Bitch.)

THEN I realized that OF COURSE she wouldn't care because she doesn't get an allowance...

So I thought that I should start giving her an allowance.

But then I remembered that she's a dog...

And she would therefore just spend all of her allowance on treats that taste like bacon.

Which would be irresponsible.

So she's still barking.

But I still labeled a bucket "The Bark Bucket", just in case.

Fit or Fail: Taking a Break Edition

Sometimes you need to take a break from counting calories and only eating the healthy items on the menu.

You need to take a break from drinking only diet and saying "no" to that awesome desert.

The next few days are my break.

I'm going to Las Vegas, and you can bet your ass that I won't be freaking out about diet and exercise.

Going to a buffet is no fun when you're watching what you eat.

(The whole point of a buffet is being able to mix Italian food with Chinese food and taking a bite of each version of pie and cake available.)

(Duh...)

And I don't want to spend the whole trip freaking out. I want to go have fun. I want to have some cookies. I want to have a couple (or more) drinks.

(And let's face it: the drinks that have all of those calories are ALWAYS more fun on vacation. Light beer is for BBQs at home. Something frozen with hard alcohol? For the pool.)

I can count and burn calories when I get home...

So this trip will not be about fit or fail... it's about fun.

(And eating... a lot...)

(Can I get a "hell yes"?)

(PS: I promise more blog posts are coming soon... the last week has been crazy, but I've got a whole lot to share with you all... when I get back from vacation, of course.)

I May be "Wrong" but my Logic is Decent...

Yesterday Mike and I dug a tree stump out of my dad's front yard.

(Okay... Mike dug the hole and got the huge tree stump out.

(I helped by reading to him... and then I helped fill the hole back up.)

(Because I am strong.)

(And because Mike was about to throw up from digging a hole for five hours.)

While I was shoveling the dirt back into the big hole I asked my dad what an ermine was.

He said it was a stoat.

I then asked what a stoat was.

He said it's a weasel.

Then I said that that must mean that the worm that I just saw wasn't an ermine because I was totally going to say "look at that gross ermine" and then I would have been wrong.

But I think that an ermine sounds more like it should be an insect or bug or something creepy-crawly and not this:
I would name THAT Richard. Not Ermine.

Then we started talking about building traps by digging holes and covering them up with hay so that someone falls into it.

Apparently my dad did this to his dad and even though my grandfather almost broke his neck my dad says that it was hilarious.

So I said that dad should have been a musketeer.

And dad asked why he would be a Mouseketeer.

And I said like Davy Crockett.

And Mike said "Frontiersman".

And I said that's what I meant.

(Except not really. Musketeer totally made sense in my head.)

And then Dad started singing the Davy Crockett song so I joined in and started screaming "Fe-fi-fidily-i-oh, fe-fi-fidily-i-ohohohoh" and Dad said that that's not the Davy Crockett song.

And I said I was pretty sure that good ol' Davy was in the kitchen with Dinah.

And Dad said no.

And then I asked if Davy at least played the banjo.

And Dad said no.

And then I decided that maybe Davy Crockett should have played the banjo in that kitchen with Dinah because if he had a hobby like playing the banjo then maybe he wouldn't have killed all of those animals for hats and instead joined a band.

So, overall... I was wrong a lot yesterday.

Fit or Fail: Closet Case Edition

I'm trying very hard to focus on the progress of my fitness as much as on the results. And part of that progress involves taking a look at me. Inside and out. And the way I look on the outside isn't just about how much I weigh or how toned my legs look... it's about what I look like on a day-to-day basis.

So this week I cleaned out my wardrobe.

Usually this is an activity that causes much turmoil, self-loathing, and denial.

Do I throw this really cute dress that I've never worn but might after I lose ten pounds in the "gone" pile?

Why doesn't this shirt look good on me?

I'll totally wear these pants... totally.

And? I still end up with an overflowing closet and dresser.

So this time I went into the process with a brutal attitude.

Haven't worn it in the last year (or two)?

Gone.

That shirt that I got at a concert 6 years ago but I haven't worn since the day after the concert and doesn't even fit because I shrunk it but am keeping because it has "sentimental value"?

Gone.

Can't fit into it?

Gone.

Can fit into it but it looks like I shouldn't be able to fit into it but if I lost 15 pounds it might look okay?

Gone.

I took all of my clothes out of the closet and dresser, and tried everything on, one by one.

And if it didn't look great, didn't make me feel great, or hadn't been worn for a long time? It went into one of those huge black trash bags made for lawn clippings.

At the end I had a much emptier closet and a dresser with drawers that closed.

My goal? To move on.

I've fallen into the habit of wearing the same 10 outfits. And 9 of those outfits include the same pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt.

Why? Because I'm trying to hide. I'm trying to tell myself (and everyone else) that I don't really care. That I'm okay being "blah".

But I'm not.

A t-shirt and jeans is easy. I can just be nothing in it.

But I'm done.

That's why I got rid of all of the clothes that made me feel less than great.

That's why I put the t-shirts in the bottom drawer of the dresser, reserved only for exercise, sleep, cleaning, or lazy afternoons at home.

I realized that all of the clothes that I had left were brown, gray, or black.

I realized that I didn't really have anything left.

So I went to those awesome stores where the average price for a shirt is $12.50 and got outfits that made me smile when I was in the dressing room (not a usual occurrence).

I got shirts with color.

I got a dress with patterns.

I got pants in a material other than denim.

And I came home and hung them in my closet, on display so that I can actually see them and want to wear them.

And today? It rained... so I couldn't really wear any of my super cute outfits... so that sucked.

But tomorrow? I'm wearing something new, exciting, and me.

(As long as it stops raining... I don't want to get my cute new clothes damp... they're super cheap, and therefore don't really last in adverse conditions... but I still love them.)

Next up... cleaning out my shoes and purses. I fear my logic and unwavering discipline won't last through that stage in the spring cleaning process...

A Lawn Story

Yard work has never really been my forte.

When I was younger my dad told me to mow the lawn on the rider mower. I tried to tell him that this was a bad idea but he insisted that I was being over dramatic so I had to do it anyway.

It was terrifying but I did it and I even managed to make all of these pretty zigzag patterns in the grass.

(Driving one of those things in a straight line is HARD, y'all.)

Dad was not pleased and that was the last time that I was asked to use the rider mower.

(Not that I'm complaining. Being 15 and having one less chore is pretty much awesome.)

Now I have my own lawn to mow. And today was the first day this season that I did it.

Because of all of the rainy weather we've had over the past month our lawn was in desperate need of a shave.

The last thing Mike told me before he left for work was to not mow over the hose.

So I was a good yard worker and I went to move the hose before I forgot. But the hose was all covered in leaves and I was CONVINCED that there was a snake living in there. I got this vision of me reaching down for the hose and accidentally grabbing a snake and it freaked me out... so there's a patch around the hose of really long grass...

And then I ran over a ladybug. It was like slow motion where I was moving the lawn mower and I saw the ladybug RIGHT as I gave a big push and I was like "NOOOOOoooooooo" and I moved the mower and couldn't find the poor thing... I want to say that it flew away or burrowed into the ground, but I'm pretty sure that I'm actually a murderer and I just have to live with that.

Later I saw another ladybug flying and I was like "OH SHIT... what if that's the dead (murdered) ladybug's significant other... or a relative... or what if they were best friends who had a pact that if neither one of them had mated by the time they were 2 weeks old they'd give it a go together..."

So then I just felt depressed.

I'm pretty sure that's the only creature I killed, though.

I think...



The lawn looks nice now, and that's what's really important.

Except for that's kind of a lie because it doesn't actually look that good. For being such an organized person I have a very sporadic approach to mowing grass. I guess I'm just a fan of fun patterns because I have all of these swirly lines across my lawn and even though it looks pretty it's not exactly what I imagined.

I would mow a little for awhile and then turn around to see that I had missed a scalene triangle of grass without me actually noticing. So I had to go back and then I'd notice that some of the grass was still wet so it just went flat and wasn't actually cut... so it'll be interesting to see how that looks once it dries.

At one point I realized that I had given my lawn a mohawk (completely on accident). It was super punk rock but, let's face it, a mohawk is a tad cliche now, plus I don't think the landlord would appreciate it.

So now it sort of looks like Homer Simpson's head... mostly bald except for a few spots with about 3 stray hairs...

Awesome.

AND... the hoses were not run over.

Mission? Accomplished.

(PS: If you need a great read for the summer, Jen Lancaster's new book came out yesterday! Pretty In Plaid is sure to be full of laughs and pure awesomeness... AND it's about the 80s (aka The Decade Ally B Began to Exist and Therefore the Most Magical of All Decades... plus there was great music...) So go get it.)