I’m the follower of many fitness groups on the Book of Faces. I also search a lot of fitness related terms, nutrition, and “healthy” recipes. In turn, this leads to a shit-ton of targeted ads. This makes sense…sort of. I haven’t gotten any ads for anything that was actually healthy like joining a gym or nutrition information. Instead I get ads for supplements (I use that word loosely). They promise an outrageous amount of results in no time at all. You and I both know that this is bullshit. However, let me share with you what some of them actually do…

The first drug suggested was to be taken when you have a meal containing fat. It works to make it so that your body doesn’t absorb the fat while it’s being digested. My dudes – let me be very clear – what goes in must come out. Wouldn’t it be great if it was packaged nicely in delivered outside of your body? Is that the case? Absolutely not. It leaks out of your body sometimes (the most common side effect is oily spotting on your underwear), makes you sound like a tractor pull while you’re walking around farting everywhere, and makes it so that you have a harder time absorbing fat soluble vitamins. You’ll poop more, and if you’re lucky, that tractor pull was just the engine starting and not a sneaky shart. Other listed side effects include possibly crapping your pants, vomiting, liver failure, rectal pain, problems with your teeth or gums, and nerve damage.

Option two wasn’t much better – a pill that you take and drink a ton of water with that expands in your stomach to make you feel fuller. You have to take it 20 minutes before you eat and drink at least a 1/2 liter of water with it. Can you imagine what would happen if our teenage girls got a hold of this? Seems like anorexia’s best friend.

Lastly, there’s just flat out speed. Of course you’re going to lose weight if you never eat. At what point does the legal speed stop working and you move on to cocaine or meth? Hey, at least your house will be clean.

Every day people get these things shoved in their faces. Every. Single. Person. Why feel good about yourself or make healthy choices when you can just take a magic pill? Inevitably, these people will end up right back where they were when they started and continue the unhealthy cycle.

So, the next time your coworker smells like shit, it may be actual shit. Be kind.

I’m sure we’ve all said this already : FUCK 2020. Right in the ear. With a broken spork. It’s not until now that I’ve felt up to writing another blog post, and I realize it’s been almost a year since the last one. Between being a single parent, an ER nurse on nights, and going to school I haven’t really had the damn energy to write much of anything.

If you’re wondering about my fitness journey, I am too. Do bang. energy drinks and string cheese count as “nutrition”? Where does “overthinking things as a form of cardio” fit in?

If I hear one more whiny bitch complain about wearing a mask for 10 minutes while I have to wear one for my entire 12 hour shift, I’m going to slap someone. I haven’t been able to hang out with anyone since March because I’m terrified I’ll expose someone. Add in that I’m a fat type 1 diabetic with high blood pressure and I’m scared I’ll leave my children motherless if I get sick. I cancelled two trips (one to Italy which I was REALLY looking forward to for my birthday), but I watch people post their beach pictures from wherever after flying across the country. Like many others, I’m just burnt out over this COVID shit.

Luckily, I did get my first round of the vaccine a couple of days before Christmas. Maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Maybe this year will be better than the last…(now you have Counting Crows stuck in your head too).

Let me just start by saying that dating is the dumbest thing ever. Like ever, ever. Online dating is even worse. Between the horrible spelling and the sheer stupidity of people, there lies an even worse demographic : the seemingly charming, nice, and put-together dudes who secretly ask you if you’re fat. I have pictures of myself on my profile. Granted, some of them are at great angles that make me look as amazing as I actually am but there are even a couple of less flattering pictures that clearly show I am not a size 2. Inevitably, however, there it is : Do you have any full-body pictures? Seriously!? This is a thinly veiled attempt to find out if the person you’re having a conversation with is fat. And by “person”, I mean “woman”, because let’s face it…I have never asked a dude for a full-body picture to determine if he’s chubby. And honestly, if I *did* ask that, he’d probably send me a picture of his dick thinking that’s what I mean by “body”.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I get wanting to be attracted to the person you’re going to go out on a date with and potentially be naked in front of. But let’s also be completely honest about what we’re looking for. Why can’t people be honest? What’s wrong with a dating profile that states “single male in search of not fat lady to put my penis into”? That would weed out a whole crap ton of undesirable humans who only end up wasting my time. And the more I date (or attempt to date), the worse I end up feeling about myself. Depression’s a bitch.

I don’t want to get healthy for the wrong reasons, and I really want people to realize that we’re not our “full-body pictures” or the clothes we wear or the adventures we go on. I’m healthier today than I was a month ago, but that doesn’t mean I fit some idiot’s standards of beauty. And, really, if we’re going to judge people on their pictures then you need to stop posting pictures of yourself with a fish and shave your beard, Chad. We both know you’re not that manly.

Do you remember when you were, like, 7 years old? It was so easy to make friends. Really, all you had to do, was find another human who was sort of your size and just ask to be best friends forever. It didn’t matter what they looked like, what they ate, what they did in their spare time…chances are you could find something in common with them. “Oh, you pick your nose!? I pick my nose! Let’s pick our noses together and be best friends forever and spend the night at each other’s houses every weekend!” And, more than likely, it happened! You guys were friends until one of you moved or (hopefully) grew out of nose picking.

Why, then, is it SO hard to make friends as an adult!? I get that most people already have their tribes and it’s hard to add to those groups when you have adult responsibilities and a life to keep you busy. But what about those of us who have lost our person or people? Life happens, people die, couples break up, and people who you thought you would be close to forever drift away to their own islands sometimes. So, we try to fill our groups back up with people as they go missing.

In an effort to do that, I’m pretty sure I went full “Single White Female” on someone. There’s a gal who comes in to work who seems super cool. She’s funny, seems laid back, and doesn’t mind my very straight-forward snarkiness. Of course, this means we should be Facebook friends! I ask…she says she doesn’t have a Facebook BUT she does have an Instagram. She gives me her blessing and I look her up only to find that she’s a power lifter! I went full geek, stalked her entire IG page, told her that she was awesome, and said we should hang out….pretty much the equivalent of a teenage fangirl. *eye roll*

Luckily, she hasn’t completely stopped talking to me or taken out a restraining order. She even invited me to lift with her some time. So, while making friends is still hard, there are still people who will sit next to you and metaphorically pick their noses in tandem.

So, the other day my 12 1/2 year old son, who has all of the pre-teen angst and a shitty attitude, got detention. To say that he has a problem with authority would be an understatement. Now, most of that is because of stuff that happened when he was a kid, some of it is because of the ADHD and autism spectrum disorder, and some of it is simply because he’s a pre-teen boy who is also an occasional asshole. The principal called to let me know that he would need to spend an hour after school and I told her that was fine, but that I expected he’d probably head home instead. I assured her that were he to show up at the house (he walks or rides his bike home), I would bring him back so that he could serve time like the prepubescent gangster that he is. Lo and behold, about 20 minutes after school was over, in he strutted.

I got him back into the truck just by telling him we were going somewhere but not showing my hand just yet. Boy, when we pulled into his school, he dug his heels in and absolutely refused to get out of the car. There were still other students milling about and I let him know that I we could do this the easy way – he could get out of the truck and walk into the building on his own – or we could do it the hard way. I spelled it out. The hard way involved me yelling loudly in front of the other kids, then taking him out of the truck, putting him over my shoulders, and carrying him into the detention room. He moved on his own. Quickly.

Thank. Fucking. Goodness. There was no way I was going to be able to actually pick up this kid who is about the same height as me and weighs 115 pounds, sling him over my shoulder, and carry his butt from the parking lot to the detention room.

This week I added deadlifts and heavy squats to my fitness journey. May there never come a day where I have to actually have to pick up my little asshole of a child and carry him back into anywhere, but if it does happen, I’m going to be ready. You can’t out-gangster your mom, Son.

Wow. I realize it’s been over a year since my last blog post. Sorry. It just so happens that sometimes I suck at life. Or I don’t suck at life and am busy doing other things. Or I start off really motivated for something and then forget about it. Or maybe I just get distracted by shiny things. SQUIRREL!

Between working full time (nights, remember?), going to school, and being a single mom I keep myself pretty busy. But, another reason that I tend to let things fall by the wayside is that I have depression. It’s not the TV depression where I’m crying into my Cheerios and lamenting my bad fortune. It’s not the glamorized brooding, hot pouty type of depression. Nope, I get the “I don’t want to get out of bed, clean my house, change my clothes, or function for five days at a time” depression. Sometimes, the only reason I leave my bed is to feed my kids and then when they go to school I’m right back in the comfort of my cocoon where I don’t have to do life. It’s the type of depression that preys on my weaknesses and insecurities and makes me forget that I am a Bad. Ass. Bitch. I have a masters degree that I am using, I bought my own home, I’m raising two pretty awesome children. And, let’s not forget my awesome sense of humor and huge tits.

So, even though this post is mostly serious, I promise to return you to your regularly scheduled programming shortly. Just think of the lack of posts over the last year as a hiatus, and the show you love that got cancelled got picked up by Netflix…swearing and all. Fucking finally.

Ahhhh, night shift. I love the dark, middle of the night, adrenaline rush emergency department life. My ass, however, does not. I literally gained like 30 pounds when I started working night shift. Why? 1) shift work, 2) there’s nothing to eat unless I pack it, 3) nothing that IS open is actually healthy, 4) what else am I going to do when I get bored? I might get high step counts and stay active, but none of that means anything if I’m scarfing down tacos at 0200 in the morning.

I really need to work on eating healthier. Meal prep is a good thing and something that I aspire to do well. Part of the problem is trying to find good recipes that keep decently so that my meal on day 6 of my work week is just as good as the meal I ate on day 1. So, obviously avocado and apple slices are out. Brown food that is the color and consistency of poop is not something I want to put in my mouth. Instead of salads and high-protein food that is going to keep me full I end up subsisting on energy drinks and coffee. And, while I may be wide awake and wired enough to make it to the gym after work in the morning, I’m not actually putting anything into my body that is beneficial.

Anyone have any good recipes?

Summer is a great time. It’s full of sunshine, watermelon, fresh strawberries, and playing in the water. However, I must confess it’s been weeks since I went to the gym. Thanks to summer vacation, my small humans are home 24/7 and they’re too young to hit the gym with me. Not to worry, I’m still getting some exercise in…but this exercise is not in an air conditioned gym.

I’ve adjusted to not using the gym equipment, seeing other adults, or being able to have gym time without being interrupted by a child deciding that right that moment is the most emergent time to tattle on their sibling for something they did three days ago. What I haven’t adjusted to is the heat. It might be a beautiful 80°F outside, but in my house (which, incidentally, is not climate controlled) it feels like it’s so much hotter. Since it’s also not a structured gym workout, I’ve been trying to use more workout videos instead of relying on my own ingenuity and Google searches. In the spirit of “stepping out of the box” I bought a workout video that was hip hop dance. Ohhhh, boy.

I waited until the kids were at a play date and put the disc in. Now, let’s keep a few things in mind : 1) I live in the country with no neighbors that can see me; 2) I was in my own home with the curtains closed; and 3) even the dogs were outside. Five minutes into the video and I was pretty sure Paula Abdul could see me with her psychic choreographer powers and was going to strike me down. I looked like a duck with epilepsy. There was no one around and I was still embarrassed. My mama did not give me any rhythm whatsoever. No wonder us white folks waltz and shit.

Plus, it was SO hot. My hair was plastered to my face. My sports bra clad uni-boob was boggy. I mean, seriously, there was dripping and sticking and wet spots on my shirt that looked like I had stuffed water balloons into my bosoms.

I can’t wait for school to start so I can go back to an actual gym with a personal trainer that doesn’t make me try to dance.