Let’s just get this out of the way. I KNOW that any blog written in this last month before the presidential election should be a strongly and effectively worded essay about Sarah Palin and the danger she poses to our country and to feminism but FUCK I don’t write stuff like that. Luckily just about every OTHER (democratic/sane) female blogger out there seems to be tackling this issue like it is JT O’Sullivan (see – my first instinct is a sports metaphor – feminist writing is just not my thing) so I feel fairly comfortable going on my own little tirade about MILK DUDS.
Specifically about spending $80 so my personal trainer could spend our ENTIRE session explaining to me I shouldn’t eat Milk Duds.
Lemme back up a bit.
I started working out with a personal trainer about a month ago. I was finally (due to an, “oh by the way your mother left you some money when she died NINE MONTHS AGO” inheritance) able to afford to start training at Diakadi Body. (DIAKADI: Do It And Kick Ass Doing It! I know, I try not to think about the name either) a top end personal training facility. It has all the equipment/resources of a gym but you can only work out there IF you are having a session with a personal trainer. And only the best trainers qualify to work there.
So when I sent Diakadi an e-mail saying “I want to lose weight, get in shape and strengthen my back so I can quit re-re-re-re aggravating my back injury” they sent me a list of trainers who were also trained in things like massage and physical therapy, I met with a few of them (one of them, a woman, hugged me *shudder*) and decided to work with Shane.
WHO I LIKE. He’s no BS. He pushes me. He really knows what he’s doing. If something we do does aggravate my back he’s able to stop and treat the area with acupressure right there on the spot. He seems to get that I’m working pretty much as hard as I can. I committed to 4 training sessions a week (an hour of training with him followed by 30 minutes of cardio) plus walking on my days off and watching my diet.
AND KEEPING A FOOD DIARY.
Which of course started less than a week before Kevin ended up down the street from my house at UCSF Medical Center having brain surgery and my house became the default way station for friends and family who don’t live in SF.
And I’d barely gotten the sheets washed before it was time to pack up our ensembles and approximately 700 accoutrements for a weekend down in Gilroy at the Ren Faire.
This last weekend was the first chance John and I have had a chance to just sit down for a while and catch our breath. And in the last four weeks I went from, well, pretty much a life of TOTAL leisure to working out, eating right and having a LOT of other stuff going on. And I’ve been pretty proud of myself because I haven’t gone off the rails and been like, “fuck it I want a quarter pounder with cheese NOW! And some fucking fries dammit!”
So today was the day we had scheduled to go over my eating habits (something I had been told would take about 20 minutes) and he pulled out the pages of my food diary which he had scrawled all over. And I literally had to EXPLAIN to him that, yes, I know Milk Duds are BAD but I only had a handful of them at the movies, which is the only place I EVER eat them and NO, I don’t normally eat at Panda Express but we were stuck at the hospital for hours and the food options there are VERY limited and the guy having brain surgery wanted Panda Express so that is what we fucking ATE (I didn’t say “fucking” but I thought it).
I felt like I could have saved myself the better part of an HOUR if I had just printed out the BAD FOODS in red ink to indicate I knew they were BAD.
And really, other than half a hamburger at a BBQ I went to, that’s pretty much all the bad food there WAS on my list. No soda. No pasta. No garlic bread. No wine. No ice cream. No fast food. I’ve been SO good for the most part that having something like “handful of milk duds” pointed out like it was a habit that needed to be broken just really pissed me off. I actually said to him, “do you see Milk Duds written anywhere else on any of these other pages?”
The most frustrating thing was that he hadn’t even looked at the last week (my first really normal one since I started this process) and when he did look at it, today; it pretty much got a gold star. But by the time we got to THAT he was already running late for his next session so he bailed and I did extra cardio to try and compensate for the fact that I hadn’t WORKED OUT and then went home.
Also he wants me to make shakes at home with Protein powder and honestly, I don’t see that happening.
Also, the fact that Sarah Palin could end up our vice president (much less ACTUAL president) is so terrifying it makes my stomach hurt but I don’t know what to DO about it.
Vote for Obama and eat all the Milk Duds you want. Oh and if you take out a mortgage don’t get an ARM. Those are bad. Worse than Mild Duds.
- Related Link: http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2008/09/30/palin_pity/
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