omg, i'm the worst blogger evah

Sorry, guys. Work and life in general have been kicking my butt***.  It's not even that I don't have time to write--I have weekends off (mostly) after all--it's that I don't have the mental energy to come up with either anything interesting to say or an entertaining way to present something that isn't actually interesting.  I keep thinking I'm going to have a fitness adventure and try something new, then come back to report on it, but then it's like, who am I kidding? go to gym, do same things, go to same yoga classes I know I like, rinse, repeat, blah.

I take that back.  I did go to a yoga workshop last month that was more meditation than yoga and it was very cool (though not, obviously, a "fitness adventure.")  The same weekend I did that, I also went to two other yoga classes, which is two more than I usually go to. I was kinda thinking that between the yoga, the meditation workshop, and the acupuncture--I've started back at acupuncture, have I mentioned that?--I could probably claim to be the most relaxed person in the history of relaxation. Stop laughing. Okay, if you know me, you can laugh. Briefly. But seriously, I think there's some truth in it. One of my co-workers, who is a basket case of work-related stress and anxiety, said to me (and our boss) the other night that working with me was good for her because I talk her off the ledge when she's stressing about shit that can't be controlled. I was like, oh honey, no. If I'm the least anxious person in the room, Houston, we got a problem.  But who knows? Maybe I AM the most relaxed person in the history of relaxation.

I have done one other new-ish thing over the past month. There have been several mornings where I've left work at 4:45 in the morning and it's been just so delightful outside, weather-wise, that I just couldn't bear to go to the gym and instead kept walking on by it.  And just kept walking the 3 1/2 to 4 miles to my ultimate destination where I'd get on the bus or commuter rail to my house.  There is something other-worldly and delightful about walking right through the city of Boston in that hour between 5 and 6 am and if I were not the worst blogger evah, I'd have done a whole post on it complete with pictures I took. But, y'know. And now that the polar fucking vortex is upon us, I'm not foreseeing very many more early morning walks/opportunities to take those as-yet nonexistent pictures, so that post will have to wait till spring. Or never. One of the two. I will say this, however.  If you ever have the opportunity to take a long walk or run through a city at that hour of the day, when it's still dark or just getting light and there are people around, but not too many, and traffic, but not too much, do it. It's like another world. A very pleasant, alien world.  (All the traffic lights at all the intersections on Boylston Street are flashing at that hour of the day. WHO KNEW?)

Okay, enough being positive n' shit.  On to the complaint department.  Because I would also like to update y'all on what's been pissing me off lately.

1.) Wasting food.  I threw out a whole pound of ground turkey this morning that I forgot was in my refrigerator. The sell-by date was 11/11. Oops. I am a moron. Luckily ground turkey is dirt cheap, but I am still pissed at myself.  I also threw out a tupperware full of canned pumpkin that had gone moldy the other day. I've been making that pumpkin cream cheese bake I shared the recipe for quite a bit and since it only calls for 82g of pumpkin at a whack, that means leftover canned pumpkin in a tupperware. The last time I bought canned pumpkin, the giant can of it was only like literally 20 cents more than the can that was half its size. But buying the giant can does NOT save you money when it molds before you can use half of it, Andrea you moron, you. That's my economy tip for today, kids.

2.) My own ignorance of basic knowledge. So, when I could not make the pumpkin oatmeal bake I wanted for breakfast the other day due to sad pumpkin tragedy, I was kinda stymied about what I could substitute. I gave up and just made proats. Sigh. But it made me realize I don't know enough about the chemistry of baking to just willy nilly alter recipes and I should DO something about that. Like, what is the difference between baking powder and baking soda? Don't they do the same thing? Why do you need both in the same recipe? How did someone figure out you need 1/2 tsp baking powder and 1/4 tsp baking soda in that recipe? What would happen if you used 1/2 tsp baking soda and 1/4 tsp baking powder instead?  Does anyone know of a good book (or website even) that would explain the science behind baking to me?  It might save me from eating proats. Which I am SO over.

3.) Aggressive sales people.  I was in the Nordstrom activewear department the other day, purportedly looking at North Face jackets. Purportedly, because I can't not also look at all the other workout clothes if I'm in a 20 foot radius of them. It's a sickness. So, I'm browsing the sale rack when Uber Perky 19 Year Old Salesgirl gloms onto me and helpfully explains that the rack I am looking at contains size extra small to medium, while that rack over there contains large to extra large. "Just so you know." Um, thanks? I think I could figure that out on my own?  I move onto other rack. She follows me, making a comment on everything I touch, most of them prefaced with "just so you know." Finally, I am at a rack of black winter jackets and she has to come over to point out that there are actually two different types of black down jacket on that rack.  "Yes! One has a hood and one doesn't, and one is puffier than the other!" I say totally deadpan.  She doesn't get my sarcasm.  I leave without buying anything. Un-fucking-believable.

And, now, to end on a positive note, here are a couple of things that are not pissing me off.

1.) My new sofa that I bought during tax free weekend and which was finally delivered just before Halloween. It's very very comfy.  Toby thinks so too.

2.) These pants which are half-price at Athleta. They're having free 2 day shipping on the website right now, which is handy if, like me, overly aggressive salespeople have made you appreciate online shopping all the more.  Seriously, though, those are my favorite new workout pants. Just so you know.

3.) I'm on vacation from 11/21 to 12/1, woohoo. Maybe there will be a fitness adventure!

xoxo

***I also had Ebola. Or possibly a very bad cold. One of the two.

P.S. I saw a couple people online taking a fit at other people joking about their cold/flu/hangover being Ebola. Srsly? It's offensive to Ebola patients to poke fun at oneself by referring to one's admittedly minor ailment as a possibly deadly disease?  I guess I'm going to hell then.

peeeeee arrrrrrrrrr

I dunno if I've mentioned it in here before, but my friend adopted a new ginger kitten several months ago and named him Max. As in, one-rep max.  In an example of random coincidence, I had a friend in high school/college who back in the '80s also had an orange cat named Max. That Max weighed a whopping 25lbs, had a head the size of a grapefruit, and was called Max after Cedric Maxwell. (If you don't know who that is, you obviously were not a fan of the Bird-era Celtics. Your loss.)  But I am not here to discuss great sports teams of my youth or cats who were even bigger than my beloved fat Eddie (but, srsly, what's with orange cats and being jumbo-sized?), but rather one-rep maxes and PRs.


Max:

 (one-rep) Max:

(one-rep) Max:

(and just for a change of pace,) Eddie:

Mainly I would like to talk about PRs and one-rep maxes today so I can brag about how I went for one Sunday and got it. But in doing so, I've also got to talk about my not-so-glorious failure a couple weeks ago. That's the thing about lifting weights, kids. Sometimes you win. Sometimes gravity wins. The days that gravity wins, you can be pissed as hell. (Ask me about the time I [gently, I'm not a COMPLETE idiot] punched the side of the power rack in frustration.)  You can get down on yourself.  (Ask me about the million times I've told myself I suck.)  And after all that, sometimes you can try to figure out why gravity won.

So, yeah, a couple weeks ago I was at the gym doing rack pulls** and I was feeling good. Strong. I started out at 155x8.  It felt like I was picking up nothing, almost literally. Huh. Next I did 185x8.  Usually when I do these, I get about 6 reps at 185, but I have gotten 8 reps a time or two before. On this day, not only were the 8 reps doable, they didn't even feel difficult. I started thinking this was a day to go for a PR. Since my all-time rack pull PR was two plates*** (225) x3, and that was over a year ago, and since on a good day lately I've been able to do 225x2, I figured I'd go for a one rep max. And I figured that one rep max would be...235? But you don't (or *I* don't) just skip from 185 to 235. I did a set of 205x5 which was, again, what I've been getting lately on a good day. It felt good. Almost--but not quite--"easy."  Okay, I thought, I should be able to tie my rep PR at 225 and then get my one rep max at 235.  Took my proper amount of rest between sets. Pulled 225. Times two. Dammit. The fact I didn't tie my rep PR should have told me that despite how well the earlier sets had gone, it was not the day to try that one rep max. But I had gotten the idea into my head and sometimes ideas don't leave my head as promptly as they should. Sigh. I then tried three times to budge that 235 and couldn't even get it a millimeter off the rack.

I was pretty angry. I didn't punch anything though. Go me.  (Sigh again.)

Part of the problem was that someone had switched out a bench press bar for the oly bar that belongs in the power rack and the knurls on it were in a different place and also were very rough such that my palms were getting all torn up.  But I didn't want to use that as an excuse. The reason that bar did not move was NOT because my hands hurt, kwim?  On sober reflection, I was pretty sure that my progression was wrong, i.e. that the way I'd worked up to that 235 was not ideal.  

My pitiful amount of weightlifting knowledge may indeed be pitiful, but I do know that it's unwise to try for a one rep max too often. So I gave it a couple weeks and decided to try again Sunday, fueled by a blenderful of protein green smoothie, Dunkin Donuts iced coffee, and a whole wheat bagel.  And I did my progression differently. I started out lighter: 135x8. Then 155x8. Then 185x8. Then 205x5. And then I went directly to 235 and got that single glorious lockout. I wish I had video proof of it for y'all, but I was not filming.  

Mainly I'd have liked you to see the ridiculous new gym pants I was wearing.  I think I may have let on earlier that I Have a Problem with buying gym clothes. In that I, y'know, keep doing it. Especially when they're on sale. Athleta has these pants on sale.  I thought they were cute and I thought they were similar to some other Athleta capris that I have and like very much. And they have pockets. Well. They came in the mail and they are indeed pretty cute and very comfy and high quality and lalalala, but in direct sunlight they are far, far more neon green than that website photo would lead you to believe. I felt...conspicuous. 

Um, but that's a digression. We were talking about going for PRs and one-rep maxes. Allegedly.

Here are a couple articles about warming up for a one-rep max. I've read the T-Nation one ages ago and, yeah, apparently did not learn anything from it, because if it's to be believed I still did way too many warm up reps today.  My max might be higher than 235 if only I tested it correctly, huh?

Though according to this if my three rep is 225, my one rep should be 238, and if my eight rep is 185, my one rep should be 230, so 235 *is* in the right ballpark.  I tried a couple other one-rep max calculators on the interwebs and they all gave me the exact same figures, so I guess there is one scientifically accepted formula for this shiz. 

I'm sure this was all as boring as crap for those of you who don't lift and who don't want to read my links or play with that max rep calculator for like twenty minutes. Sorry. Here's a sleeping baby kitten and Klokov bending over for your time.

If there existed a picture of Klokov holding a baby kitten, I'm pretty sure the internet would explode.

xoxo

**I tried to find a video of rack pulls to throw in here in case there were those of you who don't know what they are, but 90% of them were people pulling from their knee height or above, which NO. I could probably pull 300 lbs if I were pulling from above my knees. God.

***I swear, half the appeal of lifting is the lingo. Throwing "I pulled two plates" into a conversation makes me feel so much less like your average middle-aged working stiff and so much more of a fucking badass. I know. SAD.

some reviews of random crap

1.) Trader Joe's Sweet Italian Chicken sausage

I bought these for the first time a few weeks ago, just to try.  I really wasn't expecting much--I mean it's healthy(er) sausage, how good could it be?

Fucking amazingly delicious, people, that's how good.

I honestly think I like them better than my go-to non-healthy sausage (Perri sweet Italian) and they're 100 calories each rather than 230. But don't take just my word for it.  I mentioned them to a co-worker a couple weeks ago, knowing that a.) she's a TJ's shopper and b.) she and her boyfriend try/are trying to watch what they eat.  Well, last Monday on her day off, she texted to tell me she'd bought some and cooked them up with onions, mushrooms, and peppers, and they were quote unquote orgasmic.

Two thumbs way up, man.

2.) these Zella "Move It" capri pants

and these Athleta "Karma" capris

and "woven stretch" athletic pants in general.

Those of you who are old enough to remember the '90s may remember that there was a hot minute in the mid-90s when nylon track suits, or as we called them, "wind suits", were fashionable. I want to say it was spring of 1995, based solely on my memory of wearing one to a Celtics game with my mother and where I was living then.  Anyway, all the hot trendy mommies that spring were wearing them on their own time, and as I was a hot trendy mommy, so did I. But what I remember most about them was that, working in pediatrics, I'd have my patients' moms come in wearing these wind suits and if the child was a toddler/preschooler and thus of an age to sit on their mom's lap, they'd be continually sliding off. It was sorta hilarious, but you could NOT hold a child on your knee in those things without constant readjustment.  They were slippery mofos. (Um, the track pants, not the children in question.)  Also, they were noisy and made a swoosh-swoosh sound when you walked.

That, kids, is my previous experience with woven-fabric athletic wear.  Can I say, the technology has vastly improved in the last 19 years.  Both those Zella and Athleta pants are so freaking comfortable. They're so lightweight, they're basically like wearing nothing, a fact I've greatly appreciated on recent 90 degree 1000% humidity days. They don't make any swishy noises. And you could probably hold a toddler in your lap without incident. Though I haven't tried, so I won't swear to it.

3.) the pedicure I got today

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it on here, but for the past six years, I have gotten pedicures at an expensive spa-type place from the nicest esthetician in the world. I usually only go during the summer, or during the holidays, or when I really need/want my feet to look nice, because it's too expensive to go every three weeks all year round. But I am very loyal to this woman.  I mean, I am not even a runner, but my sense is that I have, frankly, gross feet--I've almost lost both my big toenails twice from hiking/long distance walking--and she has never made me feel like she was bothered by how much damn work my feet are for her. And she always gets them looking pristine no matter how gross they are going in. Unfortunately, she has drastically cut down the hours she does nails. She has some back trouble and most of her days are now scheduled for facials, which are far less taxing on her body than pedicures.  I totally understand and sympathize but our schedules do not mesh at all now and I have been forced to go to other (cheapy) places for my last couple pedis.

The one I got today was...not good.  This woman did not clean up the polish she got on my skin when she was sloppily painting my nails plus my pinky toe on the right foot smudged even though I didn't put on shoes for over an hour after I left the nail salon.  I know this review is of no use to anyone reading this. I just wanted to bitch, okay?

4.) those Nike "comfort thongs"

Do I need to search for a picture of these?  I've posted them before. Including on my feet. God.

Anyway. Yes. I have been wearing these for a few weeks now, long enough to have formed an opinion. My opinion is, they should have named them something else because thongs are butt floss underwear which I personally only wear when the chances of me getting sex are pretty high.  These flipflops will not entice anyone to have sex with you. Unless maybe they have a foot fetish and your pedicure is better than mine? I don't know your lives, readers.

Okay, unfortunate name aside, I do like these, though not perhaps as much as I was hoping to like these.  I think they run weirdly narrow for a flipflop.  When I first got them that led to me feeling like there wasn't enough shoe/sole surrounding my foot. (Stop looking at me like that.)  My foot wasn't hanging off them in any direction, it just felt kinda like they might be. (Seriously, stop looking at me like that.)  Multiple wearings has dulled that sensation and I'm fine with the fit now.  Also, despite the "comfort" part of the equation--the memory foam insole--they really aren't as shock-absorbing as my 2 year old Reefs which are the most comfortable flipflops I have ever owned.  I can walk further without discomfort in those Reefs than I can in these Nikes.  I think it's that while the Nike insole is cushy, the soles are hard.  A plus for the Nikes, however, is that that insole *is* so cushy they don't lead to the dreaded heel calluses that flipflops (and clogs, for that matter) usually give me from the insole repeatedly smacking back up into my heel as I walk.  Also, they are just very cute and sporty-looking.

5.) Reebook adjustable speed rope

So, in my quest to find something that will entice me to do cardio rather than "cardio" and, specifically, intervals, I decided to buy a jump rope.  Off I went to Amazon to peruse them. There were many many many choices. I bought the one above solely and completely because it claimed to be easy to adjust the length and I knew I would have to shorten whichever one I got.  In case you've forgotten, I'M SHRINKING. Ahem. Anyway, they didn't lie. I was extremely easy to adjust and it adjusts in such a way that you can change the length back and forth without trouble. Which would come in handy if more people than one wanted to use it. It cost like $15 which is probably pretty much ridiculous for $2 worth of plastic and foam, but whatever.  That crappy pedi I got today cost $25 plus tip.  Everything's expensive these days. God.

I probably got a whole wind suit for $15 back in 1995.

Maybe.

xoxo

functional fitness, orthotics, and, basically, missscccccc

Hey, kids. I had another post all queued up to write (as in, I wrote the title and first line three days ago and that's as far as it went) but nope, today we're just gonna talk about a bunch of random things.  As if beer and battle ropes were such a coherent theme last week, right?  At least I'm trying to give you content. Don't judge me. God.

You love when the whole first paragraph's a disclaimer, too, right? I think this is why I don't have companies lining up to send me free running shoes n' shit. I'm sure the profanity, scantily dressed old person photos, and lack of audience has nothing to do with it. It's the inability to get to the freaking point. Ahem.

Functional fitness!  I know I have ranted about this before, but it is *so* incomprehensible to me that I need to continue to rant. What's grinding your gears, Andrea? Oh, just people more or less my age who are basing their home-buying decisions on whether there are stairs they'll need to climb and their appliance-buying and kitchen-remodeling decisions on whether they'll need to bend over or reach above their heads because OMG they're so old and pretty soon they'll be decrepit, weak, and basically in need of a Hoveround. I don't understand this attitude.  Why assume you'll be the 75 year old who's stuck in her recliner in front of Judge Judy, not the 75 year old who's taking hiking vacations in the Swiss Alps?  (I personally won't be the the 75 year old taking hiking vacations in the Swiss Alps only because I don't think either my 401k or my 403b are doing that well, but I intend to be in shape to climb a fucking mountain even if I'm still just climbing the stairs in my Y.) So, yeah, for me, working out at this stage of my life is driven by three separate reasons: fun/stress-relief, ridiculous vanity, and my need to be able to still do all those things I could do without thinking when I was 25.

What brings this up? Well, yesterday I had lunch with my friend M2 and then, afterwards, I went to the Trader Joe's near her house, which is far larger and superior to the Trader Joe's near my work that I usually go to. It seemed like a good idea since I was, y'know, in the neighborhood, but I kinda sorta "forgot" that it's in the opposite direction of the subway which meant a .8 mile walk back carrying a heavy bag of groceries. Because, obviously, I always buy too much stuff at Trader Joe's.  As I took that almost-a-mile walk back with my groceries, I was extremely grateful for all the farmer's walks I do. I was also extremely grateful that, seriously, it never occurred to me that I couldn't walk back to the subway with a bunch o' groceries. Because the day I say to myself, nah, that's too far/that's too hard (to do what are/should be my normal daily activities) is the day I start giving up.

And now we're gonna segue into my next topic. Because one thing that I *have* noticed on and off over the last year or two since my hip/low back have been a little funky is that walking long distances (say two miles or more) on flat pavement can cause my hip/back to stiffen up and start hurting, no matter what shoes I'm wearing.  It happens particularly when I'm walking fast and (I think) it happens more in the early morning when I'm not warmed up in general. It happens more when it's cold outside. Interestingly, it does NOT happen when I'm hiking and going up and down hills and walking on trails. It pisses me off when it does happen. Recently, two different people (an MT who was giving me a massage and a random friend) suggested to me that I might benefit from orthotics to fix my gait.  I am totally open to this idea, but I honestly do not know who you go to to get the right orthotics prescribed. The MT said she was evaluated for hers by a physical therapist she was seeing. Since I don't think I actually have a legitimate reason to get physical therapy at the moment, that doesn't really help me. So, I'm reaching out to you, awesome blog readers. Tell me your orthotic stories. Someone out there's gotta have them.

And speaking of feet, does anyone own these Nike "comfort thongs"?

I saw them at DSW a few weeks ago and didn't try them on because a.) that wasn't what I was there for and b.) it was too cold for me to think about sandals.  But now since it is finally sorta flipflop weather in Boston, I keep thinking about them and wondering if they are indeed as comfy as they look.  They have black and lime green ones on sale for $19.99 at 6pm.com, but I'm not sure I wanna pull the plug on shoes I haven't tried on without testimonials.

If I had a better blog, Nike would probably send me flipflops for free. Sigh.

xoxo

in which i do your mother's day shopping for you

Williams Sonoma wanted to sell me a Vitamix S30 Personal Blender, just right for making one smoothie, the to-go-cup for which they helpfully supply with the blender. It's on sale for Mothers Day, bee tee dubs.

That's a beautiful blender right there. Not sure my kitchen's klassy enough to showcase it though, what with my lack of marble countertops and white subway tile.  Good thing, actually, because that fucking blender is $399.95 on sale.  Oh, Williams Sonoma, you so funny.

Then an internet friend who's a Canadian living in Sweden recommended these Freddy brand workout tights.

Those are some nice looking pants right there. Pretty sure my ass isn't klassy enough to showcase them though. Which is also a good thing since they cost $109 American.  No fancy Italian leggings for me!

Moving on to things I *can* afford, there are tank tops with amusing sayings I approve of.

 Not sure which one I like best, but since my Y is a family atmosphere, the one that says ass on it is probably right out.

But since the best things in life are free...

here are a couple blogs that I recently discovered which I think y'all will also enjoy.

Cheaper than Therapy

and Rose Runner's Shitty Blogger series

And then, for extra lulz, a little Game of Thrones humor.

xoxo

blog salad

Time to round up some random crap!

1.) Still haven't decided anything on the tanning front, though I did buy some Tan Towels off of Amazon. (Thanks, B!) Perhaps this will end up being like most things in my life and I will procrastinate so long, it'll actually be summer and the question will become moot because I'll be able to just go to the damn beach.

2.) This may be the best tuna ever.

Since I have been being so very, very good at making and bringing my lunch to work for over two months, I am now at the point where I'm looking for different things to take.  Hence buying some tuna, which normally I am not a huge fan of.  (Well, I'm a fan of the tuna MELT but it's kinda hard to make one of those in the workplace microwave. Plus, y'know, what with the mayo, the cheese, and the buttered bread, not really helpful with the whole weight loss business.)  In my family growing up we always got the solid white tuna in water, which to me is kinda tasteless.  At my old place of employment where I'd occasionally buy tuna in the caf, they definitely used the chunk light tuna, which to me tastes like cat food.  I figured there had to be some happy medium between "tasteless" and "cat food."  In perusing the shelves at Trader Joe's, I decided solid white in oil might just be that happy medium. Oh, and it is.  I found it so tasty I was able to marry it with my *other* new lunch food experiment, which is training myself to like mustard.  (I've switched from mayo to mustard on my sandwiches in an effort to save calories.)  I tried just putting the drained can of tuna in a bowl, adding approximately 10g of mustard to it, and eating it like that, no bread or anything, and...it was good. I mean, I know it sounds vaguely disgusting, but it's actually tasty. Coming from someone who historically never liked mustard and wasn't big on tuna, this is a ringing endorsement.  So try it if you're bored with your lunch. Just make sure you get that TJ's tuna above.

3.) I have recently started foam rolling as part of my warm up, not just post workout or separate from it when something hurts.  I did this at a point when my lower back was spasming a bit on me and I was looking for a way to calm it down enough to get my workout in, and I've continued even though my back feels better. I think it actually helps. A friend was asking about it and I found a couple links for her, so I thought I'd share them with youse guys too.

4.) This is my new favorite shirt.

It's the Pacifica UPF shirt from Athleta, and that picture doesn't do justice to how cute it looks on with the ruching at the shoulders and the little sleeve pocket.  It's technically a rashguard but it makes a nice gym shirt or a just-wearing-around-over-a-tanktop shirt (if you inappropriately wear gym clothes err'where like me).  I would buy another one in a different color but it's Athleta and thus expensive.

5.) I wrote an impassioned defense of the humble bagel elsewhere when someone claimed they were nutritionally bankrupt.  A Dunkin' Donuts wheat bagel is 280 calories and 13g of protein.  I think that's a better ratio of protein to calories than a lot of "protein" bars, kids.  I was actually surprised myself when I first saw that nutritional information, but the reason for this is that bagels are very gluten-y. Gluten is what gives them that tasty chewy texture and gluten is the part of the wheat that contains the protein. So, basically, you people that have to avoid gluten are shit out of luck when it comes to getting protein from your baked goods. More tuna for you!

Anyone have any great new lunch discoveries, warm up suggestions, favorite new clothes, or rants about unfairly maligned foods? Tell me in the comments!

xoxo

me, pinterest, and some consumer complaints

I don't really "get" some social media and I resist a lot of the rest of it, but I did recently get sucked into Pinterest (three or four years after the rest of the world, right?).  I have no idea how to punctuate the previous sentence, btw.  It may or may not be a surprise to you all, but I like to shop.  Unfortunately, I don't have much money and I refuse to run up enormous amounts of credit card debt, so a lot of the time I am reduced to window shopping or, more specifically, online window shopping. Because you can do that at midnight in your pjs. C'mon now.

Pinterest is genius for this I am finding. I specifically made a board called "things i want, january 2014" and filled it with things that I, y'know, wanted after seeing them online but did not feel it was wise to immediately waste my cash on. Then I was able to go back to these things one or two or three weeks later with the idea that I could reevaluate whether I really wanted them...and 90% of them were sold out. That's a huge money-saver right there, I tell you what.

Like, look at these $50 pj pants from Anthropologie (LOL) that Pinterest saved me from:

 

They're adorable. And now I can just look at them forever without actually wasting fifty fucking dollars on them.

Or this pink sweater:

I don't actually wear pink, I just get seduced by it every winter around this time when I'm so sick of all my drab winter clothing I could spit.

Or these Frye boots:

I couldn't even start to convince myself I could afford them.  But those are some cool boots, yo.

Or this Athleta vest that sold out almost immediately:

But I really really really still did want one of those super thin, lightweight down/down-alternative vests that are out now, because you can comfortably wear them indoors in your cold house or office. Which leads us to the next portion of this blog post.

A couple weeks ago I went to the mall on my day off to see if I could buy a vest similar to the sold-out one above. I went to The North Face store.  The nice young man working there asked if I had any questions.  I refrained from asking my actual question which was, "Why is nothing ever fucking on sale in this store?" Because if that crappy massage job I just suffered through 6 months of*** reminded me of anything, it's that it's NOT NICE to be sarcastic to the underpaid.  No, I just took my leave of his store sans sarcasm and empty handed. Because I was not going to pay $149 for the vest I wanted. So sorry, so poor cheap.

Nevertheless when I returned to the mall later in the week (I had to go to the Container Store and buy a lunch box system because I'm still being good about taking lunch and snacks to work and I was getting liberal hippie guilt from all the plastic ziplock bags I was using), I returned to North Face. And my unspoken sarcasm was dis-proven****. They were finally having their winter sale.  So I bought this:

Which still was not inexpensive, but which I've been wearing almost every day and which frankly looks cuter on me than on that model. Or so I delude myself.  I don't wear mine over an ugly purple turtleneck, so there is that. And M2 told me it brings out the color of my eyes. So.

Pinterest is also good for some fitness stuff.  I found this board which I thought was full of really cool ideas for conditioning/bodyweight workouts, if you're into that sorta thing.  I wanted to try this one:

But I kinda think it requires an interval timer to be done correctly. Which would mean another trip to the mall.*****  I could end up at North Face.

xoxo

***Did I mention in here that my Christmas present to myself was quitting that miserable massage job?  Down to one job. So much happier.

****Spellchecker insists disproven has a hyphen. Really?

*****I wanted to buy one on Amazon but it's really hard to tell in the product descriptions which ones are user friendly and which ones suck. I think I'd wanna see in person before I plunked down my $20-40.

suck it, Trebek

I know, bad blogger, bad bad blogger.  (Please do not hit me with a rolled up newspaper.)  While I was neglecting my blog, however, I did do a guest post over at Cranky Fitness.  You can go read it if you missed it or, y'know, just go read Ms Crabby's blog in general because she is awesome.

Today, however, we are going to have blog potpourri.  Hence the title.  My titles always make sense. Eventually. If you're me.

Fun fact: about ten years ago when they had auditions in Boston for (the real) Jeopardy, I passed the written test to be on it, but apparently failed the actual audition/simulated game part because I kept buzzing in too soon.   Despite my later being regularly schooled in bar trivia league, I remain convinced that had they let me on there, I'd have won hundreds of thousands of dollars. That was before perimenopause/old age destroyed my memory. God.

Three paragraphs and a video in and we haven't actually even started the real post yet, boys and girls. This might actually be a new record.  Or low.  Depending on how you look at it. Perspective is everything.

Ok!  Random fitness-related crap!  Starting...now.

1.) I entered a $100,000 body transformation contest.  Poof!  Now I'm a bat!  No, no, no, we aren't attempting to transform into small flying mammals or anything actually interesting. We're attempting to transform our bodies into something more aesthetically pleasing to the judges so that we can then later be used in supplement company advertising.  Now I know I have no chance of winning. First of all, it's a 12 week contest, so by my reckoning the winners are going to be people who have approximately 20-25 pounds to lose, which is the most weight you can reasonably expect to lose in 12 weeks unless you're really overweight. I mean, if you're 80 lbs overweight and you lose 50 lbs, that's impressive, but you're still 30 lbs overweight (and thus not supplement company marketable) at the end.  If, like me, you can reasonably only lose 5 or 6 lbs, well, that's not going to make a very dramatic transformation (and isn't marketable.)  Plus, I'm 51 years old. I doubt I am the demographic the company is trying to reach. So very not-marketable.

Nevertheless I entered in an attempt to get my fitness routine back on track.  So far, so good.  Last week during week one, I lifted 4 days and went to yoga once, took healthy food to work with me every day I worked so that I would not go to Au Bon Pain and eat mac n' cheese and brownies instead, had 3-4 servings of veggies and fruit a day, and flushed out a lot of bloat on what I lovingly (ok, not so much) call poverty calories.  The summer of 2012 when I was preparing for my upcoming surgery I was lifting heavy, doing my conditioning, and going to yoga regularly.  I was lean, I was muscular, and I was all-around really fit, because I wanted to go into the first (and hopefully only) major surgery of my life as strong and healthy as I could possibly be.  I want to get back there.  I'm motivated.

2.) Do you tell people at the gym that they're badass?  Every once in awhile, I see someone doing something really impressive and I want to tell them how impressed I am, but I am usually too shy.  Even though I KNOW I myself am ecstatic when I get a gym compliment.  I know, I know, it makes no sense.  Today's example was one of the gym regulars, a dude who has lost a good deal of weight (probably over 100 lbs) in the three years I've seen him around, who was doing waiters carries with the 35lb kettlebells. Since I do those exact same waiters carries, only with 20 lb kettlebells, I was like, holy crap.  Bittybro, I said to myself, someday *you* will walk the entire perimeter of this gym with 70 lbs over your head. Then I laughed and laughed. But seriously, I wanted to tell this guy how badass those carries were, but I didn't. How to overcome this reserve, readers?

3.) In a fit of insanity, I bought these.  They're pretty much a $50 version of my $10 grippy yoga socks, sigh, but since they're officially shoes, I thought I might be able to get away with wearing them in the gym.  I am so sick of being scolded by the Shoe Nazi lady and her minions, I have yet to dare try them however.

4.) Speaking of things at my gym I don't approve of, they shoehorned this giant TRX apparatus into the stretching area which involved moving other equipment around in that already over-crowded gym.  I was facetiously told the other day that the reason I am such a klutz and always have bruises all over me is that I only train for strength, not agility, but I swear to god, if you saw the amount of bobbing and weaving I have to do just to farmers walk around that gym and not break an ankle, you wouldn't say that.  I have nothing against TRX, but if they were going to put something that takes up that much space, they could have given us another damn power rack.  I guarantee you, it would get used more than that TRX. After all, people gotta curl somewhere. (Insert winky face here.)

Alright, that's enough randomosity for now.

Weightlifting baby memes crack me up almost as much as SNL Sean Connery.

xoxo

Addendum: my feet in stretchy shoes

randomosity

As longtime readers and friends know, sometimes your blog hostess doesn't have (and cannot successfully fake) enough coherent thoughts about one topic to fill up an entire post, so she is forced to throw together a bunch of unrelated crap and pretend it kinda goes together.

Admit it. Deep in your heart, you look forward to this.

By the way? Before we move on from that Game of Thrones meme, how awesome/disgusting/awesome are these?  If I had any baking talent whatsoever, I'd make some.

Courtesy of Not Your Momma's Cookie

Where was I? Oh yeah.

First order of business, only very very loosely related to this blog's topic: the royal OB/GYNs.  Read a little blurb this morning that the two gentlemen who delivered the heir to the throne of Great Britain yesterday consisted of a.) the Queen's gynecologist and b.) the doc who did Camilla's hysterectomy.  How weird would it be to be the Queen's gynecologist?  Does she have to change into a drafty paper gown like the rest of us? Do you think she is still holding onto her little purse when she's in the stirrups?  (Did I just make you picture the Queen in stirrups? Did it then make you imagine your own little old grandmother in stirrups? I've got some brain bleach I can sell you...***)  Secondly, I dunno, but the knowledge that Camilla had her lady parts yanked out makes me feel a weird sense of solidarity with her I never thought I'd have.

Secondly, this post was linked to on Already Pretty yesterday.  I hadn't particularly heard of the Fuck Flattering movement/project/whatever before, but I will say that being 5'2, I have always had a fairly jaundiced attitude towards fashion articles suggesting I wear x to look taller and avoid y so as not to appear stumpy.  Who says I want to look taller?  I have never had any problem with being, like a candy bar, "fun size."  (Well, okay, I do bitch about not being able to reach the top cabinet shelves and, before the T was uniformly air conditioned, having my nose at other people's pit level during summer rush hours was fairly unpleasant, but those are practical, not aesthetic, concerns.)  Furthermore, ain't none of those styling tricks fooling anyone anyways.  Put me in 4 inch heels and I don't look 5'6, I look like a short woman in big shoes. Sometimes I wanna look like a short woman in big shoes, but that doesn't mean I think I look tall.  So I'm pretty simpatico with the "fuck flattery" thing. Wear what you like because dressing to camouflage what your body actually looks like is fruitless and silly.

However. That linked post made me sad.  Those of you who are regular readers will know this, but let me restate it to be plain: unlike a lot of "fitness" people, I do not demonize overweight people.  I don't think being fat is a sin.  I don't think being fat equates, necessarily, to being unhealthy.  I think there are some extremely attractive fat people, just as there are some extremely attractive muscular people, and extremely attractive skinny people, and extremely attractive average-sized people.  I push back hard against the idea that there's such a thing as a bikini body, that anyone should have to look a certain way in order to be entitled to wear a bathing suit at the pool, a shmexy dress at the club, or a pair of tight yoga pants in the gym. Fuck all that. Nevertheless that post made me sad, because it was plain as day to me that that young woman, despite her bravado, really does not feel positive about her body and appearance.  For god's sake, she calls herself ugly.  Now maybe she's reacting to other people having called her ugly at some point in her life. Maybe she's taking back the word.  I dunno. I do know that the whole tone of that blog post reeks of deep insecurity. The subtext is not that she's wearing a crop top because, shit, she thinks crop tops are so cute and fun and she thinks she looks adorable in it.  She's wearing it to say "I know you think I'm ugly, so I'ma wear what's gonna accentuate that *to you*, to look even uglier in your eyes, just to prove I don't give a fuck." Which proves she does give a fuck.  I can't see it as truly holding up a positive body image.  And I say that with great empathy as someone who's struggled with her own body image at many points in her life.

Finally, and we won't even pretend this is on topic (except that it is for people who like to run, walk, or bike outdoors!) meet my latest favorite thing:  wundermap.  OMG, you guys, I can look at real time radar down to the street level.  This just saved me from heading out for a walk to the CVS an hour ago when, though it wasn't raining and it actually looked like the sun was poking through, there was a huge patch of heavy rain heading right for me.  I do this all the time now.  If the weather says scattered thunderstorms or 50% chance of rain or whatever and I want to take a walk, I pull up wundermaps and see if there is in fact any rain coming towards me and how far away it is. Brilliant!  Stops me from inadvertently getting soaked and/or deciding to stay home when in fact it *isn't* gonna rain in my vicinity any time soon.

That's all I got!

xoxo

***actually, I saw my own grandmother's hooha quite a bit during her last year of life. Didn't really require brain bleach, 'cause face it, without it, I wouldn't be here, capice?

i need a twelve step program, or possibly inpatient treatment

"Um, hi, I'm Andrea and I'm, uh, addicted to peanut butter and jelly Quest bars."

In unison: "Hi Andrea!"

Quest bars. Love 'em or hate 'em, they're the protein bar everyone on the interwebs has an opinion on.  In my own lil internet circle, the scale seems weighted towards luv. I had heard about how their macros were awesome and their taste was hnnnnngggg (by which I mean to say, delicious) long before I ever tasted one. Then I had my surgery and there--in a sweet care package sent to me by a friend I'd never actually met--they were, complete with helpful instructions to nuke them for ten seconds or so for maximum awesomeness.   The first time I tried this, I stuck one in the microwave without removing the wrapper. The foil wrapper. OMG I WAS ON NARCOTICS, WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT OF ME?

Ahem.

Well, when I had one that I didn't actually almost set on fire, I wasn't overwhelmed. I might have been slightly underwhelmed. At the least, I was whelmed.  I chalked this up to my taste buds being somewhat funky after surgery/anesthesia. Only certain foods appealed to me. (Hence the eighteen Chobani yogurts and the diet ginger ale in my first postop grocery cart.) I decided to withhold my verdict on the whole Quest bar experience till a later date.

Sometime this spring a later date came to pass. I was buying something else online and I needed to spend a little more money for some discount or free shipping or a gift with purchase or whatever other incentive the clever retailer had come up with to induce suckers like me to drop more cash, so I threw in a few Quest bars in different flavors.  Some were good. Some were meh. Some had sugar alcohols in them that made me unfit to go out in polite society. And then there were the peanut butter and jelly ones. OMG.

I don't know what it is about these things. They're the texture of playdoh, basically, and the color of a breastfed newborn's poop. They have so much fiber in them they're pretty much a rotor router for my colon. They look like something you'd feed the prisoners in a futuristic prison. Well, except in a futuristic prison they'd be made of people. Something like that.

They're delicious. I keep buying the boxes of twelve and eating them in a week. It's like my secret shame. A vaguely food-like substance that only marginally tastes like what the flavor on the label promises and I eat two a day till they're all gone.  But but but...20g of protein and 17g fiber each, yo.

Somebody help me.


Anyway! While I wait for my intervention, I'll share with y'all a recent pic I really love.  I have a couple of vintage dresses, one of which I particularly love because not only is it extremely cute, it has sentimental value.  Sadly, for the last couple years, they've both been too big and just living in my closet.  I tried them on again a couple weeks ago and to my shock, they're now wearable again.  I've finally grown enough lat to take up the space that used to be taken up by my boobs when I was ten-fifteen pounds heavier. Woo!  My friends asked for pictures.

Shoulders not looking too shabby.

Maybe it's the Quest bars.

xoxo

news and reviews, pictorial edition

1.) The agony of defeat

I'm not the most rabid of hockey fans (as you may know, my poor abused heart belongs to the Red Sox) but that game last night was the best hockey game EVAH.  The images of Reimer lying on the ice after the winning goal were very poignant, though.

2.) Mirin' my cool shirt?

My friend Hammie designed it.  Check out her shop.  Her cartoons are great and her customer service is unparalleled.  When I mentioned that the original shirt I ordered was a bit snugger than I anticipated, she arranged for me to exchange it, even though I'd already worn it to the gym and sweated all over it.

3.) Hard decisions

I think it's awesome that Angelina came forth with the news she had a prophylactic double mastectomy after testing positive for the breast/ovarian cancer gene mutation.  Um, not that it's awesome that she had to have this major surgery, obviously.  Awesome that she was upfront about it and that her difficult decision may be encouraging to other women facing the same.

4.) my new favorite pants

Sometimes ridiculously expensive is well worth it.

5.) What I got for Mother's Day

I'd have asked for the super-cool, trendy $200 Beats ones, but my kid is poor.  Heh.  Seriously, I like these a lot.  Wore them lifting yesterday and was pumped not to have to keep popping an earbud back in between sets.

/too lazy to write a real post

xoxo

a lesson i learned at least 15 years ago

...or Story Time with Andrea!

One of the formative experiences in my thinking about body image occurred some time in the late 90s/early 00s. Sorry I can't be more specific than that, but I'm old and the years just blend together. I do know this occurred on a Saturday afternoon because that is intrinsic to our story. So don't say I'm not giving you specific details like a good journalist. God.

Where was I? Okay.  I was at Haymarket in Boston, waiting for a bus.  It was late afternoon, maybe 4-ish? As I stood there, just people watching***, two Hispanic women, probably in their early 30s, came up from the subway. One was unremarkable enough that I don't remember anything about her appearance other than that she was around the same age as her companion. The other was barely 5 foot tall and--I'm not excellent at guessing weight but--well over two hundred pounds. Perhaps 250.  Short and heavy enough that she had that look some people do of being completely round. Now, that is not that remarkable. There are short people and tall people, fat people and skinny people.  All kinds to make a world, as my mom would say.

What was remarkable was how this lady was attired: a black lycra tube dress that barely covered either her cleavage or her butt. I watched her and her friend walk past me and across the street with a mixture of fascination and horror. First of all, there was this sense that just one tiny wrong move and I was going to see a boob pop out or, on the other end, (as Patsy Stone would say) "...and all the world's your gynecologist." Secondly, I couldn't help my bemusement (ignorant, I know now) that tube dresses came in that size. Finally? Where on earth were they going dressed like that at 4pm on a Saturday? This was a club/party/big date dress if I ever saw one.

^^^Tube dress example for any male readers who stop by. (I learned my lesson after the time 2 out of 3 male friends had *no* idea what a romper is.)

But after a few seconds, those feelings slipped away and what I realized was that this woman--chatting animatedly and smiling with her friend--not only had no feelings of self-consciousness about her body, she also gave off a vibe of being supremely confident. This was not the kind of woman who dressed scantily in some kind of desperate attempt to gain attention. There was nothing about that in her body language.  She just seemed happy and comfortable and like she and her friend were having just the best day. And to me, it seemed like she obviously felt hot in her own skin, any deviance between her own body and societal/media norms notwithstanding.  And it occurred to me that as much as this woman almost certainly felt hot and beautiful, she most likely had a husband/lover/several suitors who thought she was sexy as hell too.  I dunno why I made that leap. In retrospect, it seems pretty unfeminist of me, this idea that one has to have the approval of a partner to feel beautiful. Nevertheless, it all made this sort of huge impression on me. It was maybe the first time I was able to divorce in my mind that someone had to look the way society tells us is ideal in order to feel beautiful or to have other people find them sexy.  This woman was sexy.

Even if I disagree with her fashion choices.

All this bubbled up in my memory today after reading a comment on someone else's blog, taking issue with a fitness author saying that after you followed her plan you would be "hot and confident" and therefore implying that as you are now you should probably be insecure and ashamed of yourself. To which I also say bah! And feh! And other interjections that end in h. The lady in the tube dress taught me you don't have to be conventionally beautiful to be confident but that being confident probably makes you hot. Pretty good for being in my field of vision for 90 seconds and never speaking to me, huh?

xoxo

***see? it was a long time ago back when our primitive cell phones did not allow us to peruse the internet at all times

everyone's a critic

You ever go to someone's house and they have some completely different stations on their cable/satellite than you have and thus you are sucked into a vortex of TV watching when you don't even ever watch most of the stations you have on your own TV ever? Just me again? Okay.

Well, I was at a friend's house the other day and he has Palladia, which is apparently a music channel, and on Palladia they were playing Later...with Jools Holland, which is apparently a very famous UK show that I'd never seen or ever heard of. (There's a lot of apparentlys in that sentence. I guess I'm weaseling instead of fact-checking today. Deal.) Jools Holland was (not "apparently"--this was internet-verified) a member of Squeeze, a band I like very much and which was part of the soundtrack of my college life. Like, if they ever make a movie featuring me in 1981, "Tempted" will be playing over the montage of me walking around Allston in too-tight high-waisted jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt.  Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, on Later the other night, Alabama Shakes were performing. Also Norah Jones, Jack White, The Chieftans, and some English chick I have never heard of who did some very interesting electronica. Why is this not on my Directv, again?

I was watching Alabama Shakes, the lead singer of which, Brittany Howard***, is a larger woman, and she was performing in a long tunic/short dress over capri leggings. I turned to my friend and said, "That woman should wear pants at all times. Worst cankles ever."  And was immediately ashamed of myself.  The woman has a tremendous voice and a hit record.  Her cankles are irrelevant.  But more importantly, why am I judging and picking apart another woman's body?  Who am I to criticize someone else's body parts?  Part of me says, "Well, honestly, she's not an unattractive woman and if she just made another wardrobe choice--boots, long pants, a maxi skirt, even leggings/tights that didn't cut off right above her ankles--she'd just look so much better on TV. It's a criticism of her fashion sense, not her body."  If I could sing (ha!) and Jools Holland invited me on his show, I could imagine viewers at home looking askance if I chose to perform in short shorts. "That woman should keep her cellulite covered, man."  But, really, that's bullshit. Maybe Ms Howard likes her lower legs. Maybe she doesn't see them as an unsightly "problem area" that needs to be camouflaged. Who the hell am I to place that judgment on her?  If I were to appear in public--on stage even--with my cellulite on display, is that anyone's business but my own?  And would I have ever had the same reaction to an outfit by a male lead singer? (Okay, I may or may not have suggested it's time for Iggy Pop to look into shirts. But that's with more fond amusement than real criticism. Also, while we're on the topic...kinda...I can stop complaining about Carnival Cruises using "Lust for Life" in their ads now that recent events have proved that going on a Carnival cruise really *is* like a scene out of Trainspotting. Feces on the walls? Check! Heh.)

So, mea culpa, Ms Howard. You rock whatever garments you choose and if anyone like me suggests otherwise, hit 'em in the head with your guitar.

You know I had to drop that in there.

xoxo

***yes, I did actually look that up too. You're welcome.

confessions from the land of yoga pants

Perhaps you've read this article about men, women, and yoga pants or any of the responses to it floating about the interwebs the last few days. It's created a lil kerfluffle, as you might ascertain from the fact that the original has over 350 comments posted if nothing else.  Well. I have things to say. But if you haven't read anything about this and you do not wish to tax your brain and/or hand clicking on my link, let me first summarize the gist of the original.  Dude cannot stop himself from looking at attractive chicks in yoga pants, dude feels at least mildly ashamed of this, dude thinks women cannot possibly be wearing yoga pants only for comfort as they claim but must instead be wearing them to make dudes like him look.

First, a confession.  I don't know if I've mentioned this on here before, but between recuperating from my surgery and then being laid off, I haven't worked at a "real" job since the beginning of October. This has led to, um, kinda giving up on dressing like an actual grownup person most of the time.  I had dinner with my former co-workers last month and one of the first things I asked a colleague who'd also been made redundant was, "Hey, Chrissie, have you totally stopped wearing real pants yet?"  Oh, we laughed. Yup, yoga pants err'day.  Fifteen or twenty or twenty five years of getting up every morning and forcing oneself into some iteration of acceptable business casual means when the blissful day comes that a girl doesn't have to, can you blame her for wanting to jettison the pants with zippers? Really?  Article Writing Dude may not believe it, but yoga pants are indeed the most comfortable garment the human race has of yet invented.

Second, yet another confession.  Despite the fact that I objectively know they are tight, form-fitting spandex, I don't feel particularly alluring in yoga pants.  I think I look good, nice, presentable, whatever, but not "oh mama."  In fact, I recently had a...let's call it a date...yeah, date...with an ex at which I showed up in yoga pants ('cause see above: real pants boycott) and I felt compelled to apologize that I hadn't made any effort to look shmexy.  Shmexy to me is dressy tight jeans, boots with a heel, a shirt or sweater that shows a smidge of cleavage.  That's what I'd wear when I purposely want someone to look, whether a specific someone or a general someone.  Yoga pants are what I wear to lift heavy shit or stretch or do housework or run to the store or give a massage or otherwise want to be able to move in comfort and forget about my clothes altogether while also looking presentable and, y'know, just fine.

Now, to my point, my rebuttal.  Article Writing Dude says that women MUST be wearing yoga pants to be looked at since if they only wanted comfort, they'd wear baggy sweats instead.  Oh, AWG, you are making one of the crucial mistakes that oh so many men make when they think they're understanding anything about why a woman does anything. (I've had this actual argument discussion with male friends in real life, male friends who are neither morons nor any more chauvinistic than the average bear.) Men seem to think that anything a woman does is related to guys. When it comes to what we wear, gentlemen, that is a very, very false assumption. Most women dress for themselves first and other women second, with men a distant third (unless of course they are specifically trying to seduce a certain someone, please a beloved partner, or just pull at da club.) So, in the case of yoga pants, I wear them for myself because they allow me to be comfortable while not feeling unattractive or sloppy; I don't hardly ever wear pj pants or baggy sweats for myself because, while comfortable, they do make me feel sloppy. Secondarily, I don't wear those pj pants or baggy sweats in public because of other women: I'm aware that looking like a complete slob instead of at least a little cute is the kind of thing that can draw negative judgment. I'd be embarrassed to run into a client, an acquaintance, a non-immediate relative while wearing baggy ass sweats in a way I wouldn't be if I were wearing yoga pants and cute sneakers.  Nothing to do with wanting menfolk to look at my crotch or my ass, thanks. Sorry, guys. It's NOT all about you all the time.

That has nothing to do with anything. Other than it's hilarious. And true.

Perhaps I should think about looking shmexy more often. Or start wearing pj pants to WalMart.  Apparently success (in loooovvvvve) requires one of those two strategies.

xoxo

let's play dress up!

As some of you already know, I recently bought my second pair of Lululemons. (Note to the uninitiated: Lululemons are extremely expensive yoga pants/clothes which tend to make one look ah-maz-ing.) I justified this to myself by saying, eh, it's been a year since I bought my first pair and one pair a year is a reasonable splurge. These are the ones I bought, though not in this color:

  Of course, after I already did that, some of my weightlifting friends started discussing and/or buying these:

I was, and still am, filled with pant envy, since I have a whole nother year before I can get more Lulus. Ahem.  I have taken solace in the fact that they have a 34 inch inseam and thus would be way too freaking long on my stubby little legs anyway.  Until, in the writing of this post, I discovered they make that same style in crops. Super pant envy now.

Meanwhile, I buy the GapFit pants, for which I always have a coupon and which, internet rumor has it, are made in the same factory as the Lulus (by, as I like to point out, the same little slave children, I'm sure). I recently got a new pair of these, but in a heathered gray color:

And also sort of a dark slate blue pair of bike shorts, which the internet is stubbornly refusing to provide a picture of. (Then I wore those new shorts to hot yoga and sweated so much in them, they still stink after washing them. So I guess they're permanently hot yoga shorts now. Sigh. Bright side: I'd be pissed if I permanently stunk up a pair of Lulus!)

Meanwhile, I get a new Athleta catalog in the mail approximately every ten days and even more frequent emails from them.  Today's email featured this:

Hard to see in that picture, but it's a little hiking skirt attached to leggings.  WANT.   Y'know, despite the fact that most of my hiking adventures occur in the Middlesex Fells where I'm basically trekking through people's backyards in earshot of the interstate and thus do not really technically need designated hiking clothes. 

Athleta also likes to tempt me with adorable yoga/workout tops like these:

Yes, they do so tempt me even though experience tells me that all I EVER end up wearing to the gym or yoga are cheap cotton tank tops from Tarzhay.

And then of course, the studio where I go to yoga is having an end of the summer clothing sale, where they sell, among other things, these Spiritual Gangster hoodies:

I kinda want one of those too, even though they're probably insufferably hipster.  "Hi, I'm Andrea and hoodies are my drug of choice!"

The saddest part of this whole thing is that, with my upcoming surgery, I'm not going to be able to do anything fitness-related for 4 to 6 weeks. The last thing I need to be buying right now is new gym clothes. Though I suppose I can wear them on my couch while I watch Game of Thrones, Justified, and my muscles atrophying!

Have you bought any cool exercise clothes lately? Are you drooling over anything you can't afford or don't need?  Let's commiserate together!

xoxo