So it should be noted that one of my absolute favorite of all magazines is Us Weekly. There is no shame in my game. There is nothing better than a little Friday night festival of basil chicken from my favorite Thai restaurant, Degrassi Junior High, and the latest issue of Us Weekly. This is what passes for fun in my world and really? I'm days away from turning 29 and people of my age don't do it up on Friday, OK?
Anyway, LOVE the Us Weekly magazine. I love it for all of its cheesy, gossipy, ridiculous goodness, and along with a guest appearance on The Simpsons, one of my life's goals is to freelance for Us Weekly. I just want it made clear how much I love this magazine.
BUT CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS WEEK'S COVER STORY????
First off, J Lo's before picture is, like, 15 years old and waaaay before she had a pack of handlers, trainers, fluffers, whatever, to do her bidding and get her into shape. Personally, I think it's just her hair and makeup that's unflattering as I don't know that JLo's body has ever been what anyone should call "flab" because really? FLY GIRL, people. Did you see her in Janet Jackson's video? Seriously. JLo, while obnoxious and irritating and why-oh-why God is she still singing, is super hot. She manages to be an über successful woman without turning her womanly shape into that of a toothpick with one of those bouncy rubber balls securely fastened to one end.
Which brings me, of course, to the picture of Jessica Simpson.
You would have to be living in a hermetically sealed cave not to have noticed the recent transformation of Jessica Simpson from bombshell blonde to well, let's be honest, a sack of bones. There is nothing about her recent weight loss that suggests anything other than an eating disorder or that she's been snorting lines off of the General Lee in between takes on the set of the Dukes of Hazard movie. I really don't mean to poke fun at what obviously is something terribly amiss in Simpson's life, but Us Weekly HAS TO BE KIDDING ME.
How is it that anyone at that God forsaken magazine thinks that Jessica Simpson actually looks better now than she did with all of her curves and boobs? And this isn't a cry for fat acceptance because OH MY GOD SHE WAS NEVER FAT TO BEGIN WITH. For God's sake, she doesn't even look human anymore and here is Us Weekly proclaiming this emaciated skeleton is "fab!" Did no one tell Jessica, or at the very least Us Weekly, that the whole rail-thin look is so 1998?
Usually I reserve my indignation for other things, and getting all up in arms about a celeb magazine is never one of them, but I thought it was generally understood that Jessica Simpson DOES NOT LOOK HEALTHY and it's really not a matter of opinion.
Am I crazy here? Tell me I am.
posted by Erin S on Friday, March 04, 2005
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Thursday, March 03, 2005
It probably shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that my workouts since quitting smoking have been 100% easier.
While it certainly wasn't a total shocker to me, I have been experiencing pleasant reminders of how much better off I am for having quit, things like an appreciable difference in the amount of effort I have to exert when running. My heart rate doesn't jack up nearly as high when I'm doing sprints, for instance.
Also not surprising to anyone, especially those who have quit smoking themselves, things have become progressively easier with each passing day. Somehow I'll be going about my business, walking to the car, making dinner, and it'll hit me that I'm not smoking. It wasn't as though I was never without a smoke in my mouth, but I suppose now that there are no cigarettes being placed there on any regular basis, it feels as though there were.
This week started out a little rough. As I mentioned, I was fool enough to marry withdrawl symptoms and PMS, and together they spawned cravings and jittery offspring the likes of which our house has never seen. Monday and Tuesday were blurs of Healthy Choice fudge bars and turkey chili, and I'd lying if I said that there wasn't some point during the cravings for both that I didn't contemplate dunking the fudge pop into the bowl of chili but I managed to control myself.
My life is already riddled with enough stupid, god-awful cliches. No need to add another to that pile.
I suppose it is a good thing that since I quit smoking I've been working out in feverish, frightening amounts. I can't imagine the damage I could have done to my digestive system if some of my stress wasn't also relieved from running. My poor stomach couldn't carry all of that burden on its own. In truth, the only reason I've been working out so much, so often is that the gym is, for now, the only respite from what was my routine. To put a finer point on it, it is probably the only element to my habitual little life that is not impacted, directly, by my not smoking. I don't smoke at the gym, and working out is the only thing that has made me forget about wanting to smoke. I do not even want to get into how strange I find this recent development, because it's also set off this chain reaction of healthy goings-on, as though I'm Clark Kent just realizing that I'm Superman and everything is all about being this "superhero of health" or some such nonsense.
I've taken to drinking this stuff called "Green Goodness" and it contains blue-green algae. I should think that that sentence alone illustrates the situation here. I am such an extreme person, I swear to God. I suppose that there are worse things to be than healthy, and I'm not exactly complaining, only saying that I haven't just quit smoking, I've also developed a compulsion.
******
My snarky commentary notwithstanding, it is interesting to realize how much quitting smoking has done for me mentally. I think there was always a part of me that held herself back because I smoked. I don't mean this in a sense that I was incapcitated, though I'm sure there was an element to that, but rather I never identified myself with that of a truly healthy person because of it. I couldn't because I wasn't and I think that made a difference in the amount of confidence I had in my athletic abilities.
Case in point: last night I ran intervals on the treadmill and pushed it up to 7.5 mph for the duration of an entire song because for the first time I truly believed that I could. The fastest I've ever run was 6.5 and if anyone ever tells you that the 1.0 difference means very little, well, they suck for lying so bad. Anyway, I don't feel like such a fraud, and that is sort of cool.
*****
There are parts of me that miss it, that will always miss it. I sort of know that I will never be one of those people who can have a smoke and that's it. If I have a puff of one, I'll just start smoking regularly again. But it's nice to know that I have what it takes to quit and to really believe that I have. I'm not drugged up to the degree that I was -- due to the ear ringing -- and had to cut my dosage to one pill a day, so there has been a massive amount of willpower taking the second pill's place.
This makes me as proud of myself as when I crossed the finish line at the triathlon, and it's a nice feeling.
posted by Erin S on Thursday, March 03, 2005
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Monday, February 28, 2005
I know I'm going to incur the wrath of just about everyone who has decided that Kirstie Alley's new show, "Fat Actress," is, like, some huge victory for body acceptance, and maybe it is, but I'm just going to say right here and now I refuse to be all "Woo hoo! Go Kirstie!" just because the premise is based on Alley's size.
I feel for her, I do. I especially felt for her after watching the Oscars, and if you needed positive proof that living in LA with money and a modicum of fame, whether earned or by association, comes with a world of pressures that mere mortals cannot fathom, all you needed to do was check out Sidney Lumet's daughter and her larger-than-life breasts. Poor girl looks like she's about to pop and if it hurt, she'd never be able to register the pain on her face owning to the copious amount of work she's had done. And I've nothing against plastic surgery, but there is plastic surgery and there is walking into a doctor's office with your Barbie doll and instructing the surgeon to replicate the doll's measurements on you.
So I feel for Alley and I can't imagine that the last few years have been easy on her, at least in terms of her career, and good for her for having a sense of humor about it all. When word came down the publicity pike about this show I was all for it. But then Kirstie started doing interviews and, quite literally as Alley is all about The Boobs, popped up in those garish outfits, just about everywhere, complaining about the very fat that got her this show in the first place, and I couldn't understand what exactly her show was about anymore.
I don't begrudge her wanting to lose weight, but I mean, she didn't have to actually describe Jenny Craig's food as, "the yummiest" did she? I'm holding out hope that the show won't be cutting off its nose to spite its face, but I just read somewhere that at the premiere, Tori Spelling found Fat Actress to be "inspirational."
Do with that what you will.
posted by Erin S on Monday, February 28, 2005
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Sunday, February 27, 2005
At the risk of sounding all born-again with the not smoking thing, I'm feeling quite delightful having not smoked one cigarette since Tuesday morning.
Technically I was supposed to officially quit next week, allowing a week for the bupropion to do its magic, but it seemed so silly. As though I was having one last fling with the smokes before I married into a life of chastity and cleaner breathing. If I wanted to quit badly enough to go on medication, then I should just quit.
So, rather uncerimoniously, I put out the cigarette I was smoking before work on Tuesday morning and just decided that I wouldn't have another. So I didn't, and I haven't. This isn't to say that it hasn't been a bitch -- I may be the only person foolish enough to dump a 10-year smoking habit the exact week she typically shows signs of premenstrual syndrome. The first couple of days were not pretty, and most of it was spent trying to find things to occupy my time.
Strangely enough, the only things that seemed to interest me were hobbies where I could violently harm something, anything, and not get arrested for it. My poor little, nicotine-addicted head really wanted to go to a shooting range, an activity that has never once interested me in the slightest.
After a computer exile of three days, I finally mustered up my courage to turn it on, realizing that even if I got a craving for a cigarette there were no smokes in the house and I have more than enough self-control that had I actually gotten into my car to go and buy some, I knew I would stop myself before any money was exchanged. Though I didn't stay on for long, not wanting to chance feeling any further effects of the withdrawl, I felt better immediately.
Not surprisingly, I realized, I was juggling two addictions at once -- one to the smokes, the other to the computer. I was not a pleasant person to be around.
Erik is convinced I quit cold turkey as he doesn't think two days was long enough for the bupropion to do anything. He may be right, though now I can certainly see where it's having an impact. I don't have much of an appetite, my mouth is dry, and I just noticed a slight ringing in my ears. Yes, Wellbutrin users, I know to call my doctor and I am going to tomorrow morning.
And, I don't want to smoke. Again, Erik is convinced it has more to do with me than the bupropion and I would buy that. Last night we went to charity event downtown, one we go to every year for Erik's work, and I completely forgot that it is, like, the one hotel in downtown Chicago where you can basically smoke ANYWHERE. You frickin' walk into that place and you're hit with cigarette smoke. Not only was I not tempted, um, I was grossed out. Not by the people smoking, just by the idea of me smoking. While it's true I couldn't go out bar hopping, as I still don't think I'm quite ready for that, it was nice to see I could happily sip club soda and go without a smoke.
I'm still stepping back for another week, but I thought I would check in since so many of you have been so nice and encouraging and helpful. By the way, the straws KICKED ASS, the cinnamon sticks left me with a canker sore, and the gum and water proved to be lifesavers. I'll see you all next week.
Oh. 145.6 on the scale Friday. Damn it all ...
posted by Erin S on Sunday, February 27, 2005
