Chicken wing mania and a walking hypocrisy

Last night, as I lay in bed with a belly full of trapped air and a five-alarm fire burning in my chest, I contemplated the folly of my all-you-can-eat-chicken-wings- excursion and decided to make a confession to the little monk that lives in the Italian monastery located at the back left corner of my brain. He took a vow of silence, so I don’t have to worry about him getting all preachy on me.

The unburdening of my soul went something like this:

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been….um…let’s see…25  years since my last confession. Yes, I know that’s a long time, but I don’t sin. Ok, I just lied right there. I guess that’s a sin. I try not to, though! I don’t tell whoppers, I eat them - hahaha….ha…ah….ok, I hide my true feelings behind lame attempts at humor, don’t judge me!

Anyway.

I JUST wrote a blog post about how I was going to do right by my fatty liver by eating clean and exercising like a mofo, only to follow it up with a Facebook picture of me at a Hooters establishment grinning like I’d just won the Powerball, SuperLotto, and Megabucks all at the same time. Oh, and I kinda judged the girls who worked there….because boobs.

I have inflicted damage upon myself while being fully cognizant of the fact I was inflicting damage upon myself, and for this, I would like to be forgiven. 

Oh yeah, and I also constantly wish that Justin Bieber and the Kardashians would get swallowed up by the largest creature to have ever lived, the blue whale. I shouldn’t wish such misfortune upon a poor, defenseless animal. That is all. Thank you and goodnight.”

A smile as bright as a thousand desert suns

UGH. I love food. Too much. Too damn much. I don’t claim to be an expert on nutrition (OBVIOUSLY - says you). But I’m pretty sure that eating a plate and a half of fried chicken wings is not beneficial to an already taxed system (DUH – says you again).  

I could've been a contender, but that probably would not have been wise

So I started fresh again today, as I do every day. I sure hope I don’t wear out the reset button on this body because I will be plenty mad if I die in my sleep without ever having tried a real cronut from the Dominique Ansel Bakery in New York.

 

The real deal - actually, it's pretty expensive, so it's not a deal

 

This journey is hard, and honestly, it sucks. Sure, I can blame things on the fact that I have the metabolism of a middle aged South American sloth, but the truth is – I just have no control (or shame).  Ah well, time to pick myself back up again and keep on marching along.

Isn't he just so cute though?

 

Anyway, I plan on doing some weight training this evening using Nate’s elaborate gym set up in the garage. This always used to scare me because after watching a certain disgusting weightlifting video on Failblog.org, I now have an intense fear of crapping myself mid-lift. Plus, I’m pretty sure that my calves can break a grown man’s neck in three different places, so I really don’t want to bulk that area up any further. However, Nate has assured me that I’m crazy and that both of those fears will not materialize. I trust him because...

I love that face

Anyway, I will make a good effort tonight...just like the tiny ant I found bench pressing a grain of rice in the kitchen last week.  If he’s down, then so am I.

 "We can not start over, but we can begin now, and make a new ending" - Zig Ziglar

 

 

 

 

My liver be like...NO

A few weeks ago my doctor asked me how much alcohol I consumed on a daily basis. The answer is none. I’ve never been able to drink much because I’m one of those Asians that turns fire-engine red and has trouble breathing after only a few sips. Alcohol intolerance – now THAT is a kill before the buzz can even start. I don’t mind, though. At least I don’t have to worry about breaking my piggy or calorie bank in that area like I do with all of my other questionable habits.

Nope. The reason the doctor asked is because my liver is in a state of unrest.  It has staged a revolution in response to my lifetime “Let me eat cake” decree.  Never one for the laissez-faire approach, I rule with an iron double fist helping of sweet and salty nomness, all day, errrrday. Tous les jours. Oh, liver. It's in the process of quitting my ass. It’s fat and it’s angry and it wants to do away with my body wreckonomics policy.

à bientôt, Sucka!

Now I know I haven’t been kind to this temple over the many years we’ve been together, but that’s because my mind is always talking, talking, talking.

Me: I think you need a donut.

Me: Yes, I think so.

Me:  God, you're easy.

Me: Nate would tend to disagree.

Me:  Get an extra one for later.

Me: You silver tongued serpent. I shall do that forthwith.

Viva la French cruller!

Replace the word “donut” with any other edible item aside from a vegetable, and you have my daily life in a chocolate ganache covered nutshell. I was born hungry! No, that’s simply untrue. I eat even when I’m not hungry, but now is not the time to peel back the seven layers of that particular burrito.

Viva la Taco Bell!

Actually, I've been pretty good lately because I’ve rediscovered the reason why I wanted to get healthy in the first place. No, not the wedding. A baby.  And even though my past transgressions have caught up to me, the doctor says I can still put the brakes on the damage if I continue to eat better and exercise.

So I started doing this:

 

Pre-run: all smiles and shit

....which started out great!

Lap 1: ok, I got this –oooh, "Counting Stars”.  I love One Republic! Am I too old for One Republic? Lately I’ve been, I’ve been counting sheep, dreaming about the things that I can eat (doesn’t that defeat the purpose though?). Oh, look at that slow person right there. How sad – you got this! Good job! Wow, I'm like a mentor or something.

Lap 2: I think I hate this. Because I’m crappy…crap along if you feel like you’re a house without a roof...because I'm crappy...

Lap 3: Why is it so hot? Should I stop? Should I just stop right now? OMG am I crying?

Lap 4: OMG, I'm crying.

Post-run: zero smiles left to give

It wasn’t always this way. One of my proudest achievements was beating a bunch of big kids in a foot race when I was six years old. To this day, I love telling Nate in great dramatic flair how I became known as “fast girl” (not to be confused with “fat girl” as previously discussed in another post).   Although his responses are always suspicious in nature  – “I don’t believe you.”  “Are you lying again?” “Why can’t you do that now?” – I still revel in the memory of once being able to run a mile in less than 18 minutes. Yes, 18 minutes.  That's how long it took last week.

Honestly though, I don’t hate exercise as much as my mind is always trying to lead me to believe. I really like Zumba, swimming, and self-defense classes (because you never know when you need to go on the attack). I just HATE running.  Unfortunately, it's one of the only things that works for me. When I'd go 3-4 times a week during triathlon training, there was a noticeable change in my body and energy level.  Even my brain felt happy!

So that’s why I’m at it again. Sure, I’m slow.  Geez, I think my grandma could’ve beaten my time, and she was paralyzed on one side of her body. In 1995, she competed in - AND WON -  St. Edna's annual wheelchair race. She even made the front page of the Orange County Register. So what’s my excuse, really?

My goal is not to try and beat Nate’s time of just under six minutes (5:56!). Um, NO. That would be crazy and impossible. For now I'd be happy with just getting myself to run more than once a week. Then we’ll see about getting that time down.

I guess that's what playlists are for. 90's hip hop, here I come.

 Running theme song for July (because I've got the power!)

Who's the boss? Not me

I have this huge whiteboard at home and every 7.5 months or so I’m hit with a Usain bolt of inspiration to fill it up with all kinds of crazy ass ideas on how to lose weight (fruit water! No bagel bombs!) and make/save money (stop buying stupid stuff like bagel bombs! Sing more!). I love that thing. It makes me feel all official-like because:

1. When Nate calls to ask what I’m doing, I can tell him I’m busy working in the “home office”.

2. I can pretend I’m a Harvard astrophysicist who’s about to teleconference with Stephen Hawking regarding the new solution I came up with for the space-flex-continuum-time-capacitor conundrum.

3. When Nate calls back again to ask what I’ve been doing all day, I can tell him I’m about to teleconference with Stephen Freaking Hawking and can he please stop disturbing me already.

Anyway, when I’m not busy being Russell NO in my own misinterpretation of  “A Beautiful Mind”, I use it for what it’s intended  - a place to draw pictures that make no discernible sense, but are funny in a way that only I find funny.

 

No, no, no.

I get out the markers and come up with THE PLAN. The plan of all plans that encompasses how to save money, how to make money, how to plan a wedding, how to lose weight.

Now isn't this better than cake? Oh, the lies we tell ourselves.

 

Do you know how many plans I’ve made? So, so many. Do you know what a plan without action – actually, make that - thoughtful - action is? A waste of words, marker ink, and time - a dream that will never come true unless you’re damn lucky.  Or worse – action without thought is a bad haircut going into 6^th grade that lasts the whole school year.

One summer I decided to show Alyssa Milano who the boss was once and for all. With limited resources at my disposal (scissors I found in the kitchen/Bop magazine),  as well as an overabundance of impatience and WTF-ness (my mom was still at work and I needed a haircut RIGHT THEN AND THERE), I decided to cut my hair myself. The thing is – I have curly hair – really curly hair, and these curls? They ain’t right. One does not simply cut thick, curly, coarse hair using only kitchen shears and blind confidence.  I really was blind – I couldn’t see the back of my head so I did it by feels alone. Vidal Assoon, what can I say.

I guess you showed me. Well played, Milano. Well played.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out so well and when my mom came home she was not so happy.  After multiple corrective attempts at various salons the rest of the summer, I ended up sporting a boy cut with a ducktail for bangs.  

Alyssa Milano - I think not. Try a mini Asian version of this guy from Grease. 

I had a plan – I just failed at the thinking it through part. Did I learn my lesson from that experience? Well, most of the time I think before I act, but a lot of the time I think so much that I don’t act. When will I win already?!?

Anyway, back to the whiteboard.  Since trying on this new positive attitude, which fits rather uncomfortably at times due to an ongoing battle with anxiety, I’m proud to say that I make small leaps of progress on my current goal list every day. Bunny hops. I’ve come up with this little guide:

·   Identify the things you’re good at

·   Think about what you really want

·  Develop some type of road/life map that will get you to where you want to be

·  Think it through, but don’t fall into the trap of analysis paralysis

·   Take action that makes sense

·   Be open to help from others

·   Keep your head and your heart lifted

·   Keep at it until you get there

Oh, and…

·  Take a damn seat before cutting your own hair unless you have some kind of clue. Let my hair homage to the guy from "Grease" act as a cautionary fail.

The concept is easy, but bringing dreams to fruition is definitely hard work on a level 500 scale. Unless you’ve figured out how to apply the Nintendo cheat code for eternal life to real life, you better get moving though, because this one is passing you by.  You can’t wait for things to fall into your lap, because you know what?  While you’re busy sitting your hopes and dreams on your elbows staring out the window of what-if waiting for that lucky break that’s just around the corner,  there may be a car about to run a red light when it’s your green. Or you might find a lump. Or a spot on an x-ray. Or an unmovable iceberg. There are an unlimited number of ill-fated occurrences that would make it even harder to do the things you need to do to get to where you want to be.

But hey....

STAY POSITIVE, RIGHT?

 

I really should follow my own advice. It all just seems too big to tackle at times. But I guess we should keep in mind the old saying....

How do you eat an elephant? Answer: One bite at a time

 

OMG please don’t eat an elephant though

 

 

Do it, get through it the best that you can

As the famous Greek Nike said in 50000 B.C., “Just do it.” No, not the one? Well, just do it anyway.

                                     http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nike_(mythology)

I’ve signed up with multiple focus group companies – market research agencies that pay you to test out a new product or ask your opinion on anything from a proposed movie trailer for an upcoming blockbuster (was Godzilla a blockbuster?) or what your feelings are on a new idea for a slushie drink at Taco Bell (Starburst flavored = gross). This is a great way to make an easy buck, providing you pass the pre-screening questionnaire when they first call you up.

Screener: Married or single?

 

Me: Smarried

Screener: Ok...what was that again?

Me: We've been together for like forever and we're having a wedding, so basically, I’m married. Married.

Screener: What’s your yearly combined household income?

Me: Um….this much xxxx, but it used to be this much xxxxxx. Sometimes it’s this much xxxxx.

Screener: When is the last time you participated in a paid market research study?

Me: Hmm…let’s see…. 5, 6, 7, 8 months ago? No, a year ago. Maybe two years ago. (LAST WEEK)

Screener: Are you the person who sets up all of the technology in the house? Smart TV’s, cable, computer, DVD player, wi-fi, etc?

Me: Nnnyes. Why, yes, that's me (Good God, no. We call Nate’s brothers for that shit. And besides, my TV is not smart – it takes 4 remote controls to operate and sometimes there’s no sound)

Screener: Ok, congratulations, we will be able to use you!  You will be paid $150 to participate in this 1 hour study taking place on....

That particular study took over an hour and a half because I’m basically a liar and had quite an unnerving experience trying to set up a smart TV, an Apple TV and Google TV while comparing and contrasting the differences in  all kinds of things I had no understanding of.  

Most of the time I’m in and out of these events within an hour, or even less if it’s at Taco Bell Headquarters - my pocket full of cash and my belly full of Cantina Bowls and weird drinks.

I feel strange things inside my chest when I see this picture. The light, the beauty, the wow!

I do think the gig is up at TB headquarters though. The last time I was there, the facilitator kept giving me a non-covert side-eye. Keeping my face partially hidden behind my hand and mumbling with a fake accent doesn’t seem to work anymore. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve been there 3 times in the last 2 months seeing the same facilitator every single damn time. Yeah, I know you see me, bro, but we don't all look the same.

 

 Anyway, the trick is to just do  it - take the opportunities that are presented to you and go for it. Get through it the best that you can. Did my bowels feel loose staring at the back of a TV and plugging the cables into every which hole except the correct one? Yes, so loose. Did I break into a sweat when the facilitator said there were people behind the glass watching and recording my session?  I was already sweating before I even got into the room. But I got through it. Using trial and an excessive amount of error, along with an embarrassingly time consuming process of elimination , I was able to get through the technology study and earn $150.

Just gotta take those opportunities and jump in.

Sometimes when I’m faced with a big baking job that I know will take the better part of 48 hours straight, I’ll lie in bed and cry. Then before I know it, I’m up and about in the kitchen making and weighing the dough, overworking my oven, and finally assembling the product. Because at some point, it just clicks that staying in bed all day thinking about all the stuff that has to get done is not the same as…well, actually getting things done. Yeah, it’s hard. Yeah, my whole body hurts from standing for almost two days straight. Yeah, I'd rather be on Pinterest looking at wedding stuff. But until I am able to produce 400 cookies from thin air using only the power of my own mind, the fact of the matter is that I gotta get up.

 

Now -  for the sake of sanity and efficiency (one temperamental home oven that's missing a rack is NOT THE WAY), I’ve decided to make the transition to a commercial kitchen. This concept has been on my mind a lot the past few months. While I love having a permit that allows me to work from home, I’m truly limited in how much I can do. I’ve sat on this idea for a while because of cost and the millions of what if’s that continue to take up residence in my scrambled eggs brain. What if I can’t get into a Farmers Market? What if I can’t get into the OC Swap Meet? What if no coffee shop wants to pick up my cookies?

My life is a conglomeration of befores, afters, and what if’s. BUT!!! what if I change my thinking to add “what could be”? Or how about “what will be”? –  what if I dared to think positive and expect good things rather than the worst all the time? How different could my life be…will my life be if I allowed the light of hope to come through? I don’t really know, to be honest.

But…

• I applied to a commercial kitchen and they’ve approved my application.

• I’ve got emails out to different farmers markets. Most are full right now, but I’ll keep throwing myself out there.

AND

• I’ll check out some small local coffee shops and ask if they’re looking for new vendors. What’s the worst that can happen – they’ll say no? Ha – if that were to be the worst thing that could happen in my life at this point, I’d gladly take it.  I’m surviving the worst. Every day. Working through the setbacks.

I’ve got a new song I sing on repeat when I first wake up in the morning: Think positive. Expect good things to come. Be excited. Take a breath before flipping out (and flipping someone the bird). Think positive. Expect good things to come. Be excited. Take a breath. Think positive. Expect good things to come. Be excited. Take a breath.

Just do it and get through it the best that you can.