Natural Disasters

This morning I opened Patrick's e-mail and wished I'd read it before I polished off those extra spoonfuls of quinoa flakes, about 50 grams over my morning allotment. Yeah, 50 grams of extra cereal probably won't bust my belt open, but it's the principle. Thanks for the reminder, Patrick. Developing consistency is an enormous challenge for me.

Guess I felt "justified" because I missed several servings of egg whites/yogurt/fruit and my dinner yesterday (And I once read that "your diet is a bank account." Yes, I tried to memorize last year's Naturally Thin).

Yesterday's appetite might have been squashed by Hawai'i tsunami-related panic, disaster-related sadness and overall feelings of powerlessness regarding the earthquake in Chile. My homesickness/mom-sicknesses/sun-sickness and bad case of island saudades died down this morning but my appetite was out of control. Hence the quinoa related indulgence.

Now onto fitness. I actually used a timer to do my planks. DAMN. Tick, tock, barf. I almost fainted after the first two sets. But I liked it! My shoulders are also in a lot of pain this week. I can't seem to raise my arms high enough during the shoulder raises, and the amount of push-ups I can do on my toes has gone down a bit. I've done hours and hours of computer work these last few days, which probably doesn't help. Any ideas on how to make your workspace more ergonomic and wrist/shoulder/neck friendly?



And, oh, SNAP. I totally forgot that this is our halfway mark! Congratulations, team! Change the lyrics here to "livin' on egg whites" for added fun.

Abs and Isolation

I didn't find the 8 minute abs particularly exciting. I wanted some hardcore Pilates moves--you know, teasers, drawing circles with your toes and what not. I have this not so cute flap of skin below my belly that I'd like to part ways with, but it's got separation anxiety.

So I poked around and found some other fun things to do with my midsection, like this belly roll! Imagine rolling your new six pack around on day 90!

And, next time I go to Brazil, I'm doing these, preferably with a descendant of the Gracie family:



In other news, my muscles aren't the only things I've been isolating. You know that ridiculous anti-depressant commercial that goes, Where does depression hurt? (Oh America, I love how you try to sell us drugs and transfats at every possible interval!) Well, my depression is most definitely in my knees. The right one feels like it's on fire sometimes, and my mood is pretty much like the weather - gray and nasty.

Maybe the feelings I'd normally numb with alcohol and pad thai are surfacing and I have to let them just flow up and away like the flab and toxins. Funk be gone!

Don't Know What You Got Til It's Gone

I'm talking to you, dinner carbs. Why'd you have to go and leave me?

I know we've had a rocky past - we fell in love so fast, though at times I doubted you. But things are different now. I've totally changed. COME BACK.

Alright, so I'm going a little nuts because I'm really hungry. I didn't buy enough vegetables to last me through the day so I picked this up from the Chinese restaurant down the block. I thought long and hard about inhaling the rice (no one was looking). Eventually I left it there, dejected. Forlorn.

Now I'm trying to make my milk and fruit allotment taste decadent. I boiled the milk, added some turmeric because my people say the spice is an appetite suppressant (yeah cuz it tastes like clay!). Seriously, when you combine turmeric with milk it's supposed to heal your stomach, anti-inflame, and solve all your problems or something. When my masi made it for me way back when, it was delicious (probably had something to do with the saffron, sugar, cardamom).

On top of the hunger, my muscles had zero strength today. I couldn't finish the floor jumps, and I barely made it through the shoulder raises. Maybe it's the length of my band, maybe it's me. The dips are more like dipettes -- are ya'll using chairs for this?? I don't know any chair that can bear my weight. I don't think I made it to 10 push-ups without having to do them on my knees...

I hope the rest of you are feeling stronger than I am!

Life before coffee. Who knew?

It's not the getting up at 5 a.m. part that's so disturbing. That I can do. When Patrick suggested that we try jump roping first thing in the morning I thought, no sweat (literally, no sweat. My apt is a freaking ice box at 5 a.m.) I kind of liked the idea--no creepy lawyer across the street watching me huff and puff (we still don't have curtains, sorry neighbors!), silence, peace, just me and the garbage trucks, the glowing lights of the 24 hour Dunkin' Donuts/Pizza Hut/Taco Bell combo, and a revved up metabolism to get that oatmeal up and out the system!

Yeah, right.

Then I read the part where he said we should jump before "anything" - i.e. COFFEE. Jump before coffee? Talk before coffee? Open eyes before coffee? I'm sorry, is there life BC? Does the blood even circulate sans cafe? I don't think so. I don't think I've ever done any sort of exercise in my life before first spending quality time with my boyfriend, Joe, snuggled up tight in my loving grip. I once walked into a 7 a.m. hot yoga class with a mug of it. Cuz' coffee is thicker than water, ya'll. You've heard enough of my caffeine issues so I'll shut up now.

But I tried it, just to follow the rules, because rules and structure are very important to me. After whipping myself on the ankles a few times, I found focus, a rhythm. My thumping body made a nice little beat. About three hundred jumps into it, I could breathe. It was hard, but oxygen was entering the system, waking up my heavy legs. It took me longer (um, try counting when 1/10 of your brain is functioning) but I kind of liked it. Dare I say I might try this more often! I was actually starving when it came time to eat breakfast and the coffee...it just tasted... well-deserved.

Insanely early jumping makes coffee time sweeter! And that's not all - in school later that day, I didn't scream and yell at the students who neglected to do their reading! Score!

Not walking the talk. Just crawling.

Days after my I Heart PCP rant, I stumble, I fall.

Thursday and Friday I traveled to see one of my bffs in Cambridge, MA. I mean BFF for life. College BFF. Amiga do peito, as they see in Brazil.

She just had a baby - the cutest thing on the planet!! Siddhartha Culbreth. I was totally unprepared for my trip; even though I packed my rope & food scale, I forgot the sneakers, the elastic bands.

Thursday morning I had the proper PCP breakfast, an apple, then dinner -- which was an awesome combo of basmati rice, corn curry, lentils, and the best masala egg whites on the planet! Spice up those eggs people! All you need are some mustard seeds, turmeric, cayenne pepper, and coriander.

I was thirsty all night from the salt (I am so over salt. Who needs it?). I eyeballed the portions but didn't worry too much since I'd skipped lunch. To celebrate Sid's arrival in the world, I had a glass of wine. Delicious. Made my mouth saltier. Worth the guilt? Not sure.

The next morning, I was too embarrassed to whip out the food scale at the table. Where'd the shame come from? My friends are hella supportive and super awesome and totally cheer through this process, but for some reason I didn't want to pull out that damn contraption - which I sort of hate. I resented it -the dinky evidence that I need guidelines. Like training wheels. Like a bib. Maybe I should have squeezed into the high chair and asked my friend to feed me my allotments, just like she did with Siddlyboo, who gets his organic yumminess doled out to him in these:

Don't know why I was so resistent to the idea of measuring. I felt like the scale would have set me - the one who needs to work hard to fit into her jeans - from "them," the beautiful trim couple who have always been beautiful and trim - even post baby! I just wanted to be one of "them," an effortlessly peaky-looking lady.

At breakfast, we had no eggs. I really really wanted an egg white but made no effort to find one. I missed my veggies and grabbed a carrot from the fridge. Thought about stealing Sid's PCP friendly veggie puree and figured that wouldn't go over so well. Watched him slurp his sweet potato pea soup with envy. Second time that day I wanted to be baby again.

Lunch was at a Vietnamese place my friend suggested. I wanted to insist that we return home, where I could make egg whites, toast, and a salad, but I didn't want to be such a pain in the ass. I managed to find a salad with poached chicken and shrimp - but I'm sure the fish sauce that came on the side was loaded with salt. I had some, feigning ignorance.

Now, on a positive note, I like the new exercises. My chest dips are hilarious. I get about a half inch down, but at least I'm moving a little now (not side to side, just longitudinally). And thank god we're doing some side ab exercises (for the obliques?). I felt like the slight ripples on my upper abs were turning my torso into my brother's, and I really need my waist to be feminine so it doesn't clash with my new she-rope. Cuz' when I lie on the beach this summer I NEED TO LOOK LIKE THIS:

Hateration

Right now there is a dude in my office lunch area giving me the whoa, are you just making yourself another wrap lady? look. As if the first delicious turkey, spinach, Ezekiel sprouted grain tortilla combo wasn't enough. Listen, homey, it wasn't (he has no idea what a floor jump is, poor guy).

Technically, I could still have a third, but Imma stop so that the serotonin doesn't kick my ass and send me on a quest for a naptime cot. Remember naps? Remember cots? If it were up to me New York City would be overrun with coin operated sleep cells - sort of like that cocoon Keanu Reeves gets into in the Matrix. Add some candles, fluffy white pillows, and you have Bliss (please don't sue me for stealing this image):


Anyway, awhile back, Patrick asked us to share some of our experiences with the naysayers in our lives. Unlike some members of my peak team, I've yet to encounter someone who thinks what I'm doing is crazy. No one has told me I "don't need" this kind of program. When I tell friends about what I'm doing, they're like, "Yeah, of course you're doing something like that."

Just the other day I met up with an ex-boyfriend for "lunch." I suggested coffee, mentioning that I wouldn't be eating because...and just as I was about to launch into my PCP explanation speech, he cut me off with, "So what crazy diet are you on now?"

Fair enough. For years, this guy watched me embark on a series of ridonculous "programs" that required me to combine ice cream and turkey slices and renounce fruit for two weeks. And he didn't even dump me! Instead, when I came over to his apartment, he'd hide the Doritos, the Nutella, and roll his eyes as I denied myself stuff like berries and pasta.

Back then, I thought if I touched bread, I'd implode. Thanks to me, 99.9% of our "meals" turned into hour-long sessions of anxiety ridden restaurant/kitchen drama. I remember when I caught the flu, he pleaded with me to stop the stupid diet, but I wouldn't. And still he didn't dump me! Instead he made me no-carb chicken soup. And after all that wasted obsession, I remained basically the same shape (though my psychology was in the toilet).

So listen all you haters -- this is the real thing! It's not magical, and Patrick doesn't have the secrets to the universe (well, maybe he does, but he learned them the hard way too). PCP is about common sense and work -- grueling work -- the stuff real change is made of. So get back into your cocoons and make some change! One jump at a time.

Day 33. Weak in the knees.

The floor jumps leave me quivering like a piece of panacotta, or rather, like a "16th century courtesan's inner thigh" as I once heard Nigella Lawson describe the dish...

I have to stop, sit down, stretch my legs out and massage my knee caps after about 12 of those bad boys. I am keeping my hands out to avoid falling over, but I still land with a huge thud that makes me happy I live above a bar.

The other notable occurrence involves my V-Day indulgence, which was pretty boring. I decided to go for quality instead of quantity with some super awesome dark chocolate, a fig, and some spoonfuls of this chocolate mousse pudding that I tried to make for my sweetie (didn't come out so great - secretly I was stoked because how can one be led astray by droopy bland pudding?). It happened so fast, it was over, we laughed, we cried, I wanted sugar and white bread all night. Seriously, I kept thinking about ripping apart huge doughy processed wonderbready baguettes and smothering them in Nutella or something.

Speaking of sweets, I went back to my roots to come up with some breakfast friendly veggie dishes. Check out this carrot halwa. Mine didn't look this good:


But it was pretty ok...just boil your allotment of milk and carrots (the full portion of your veggie quota) and add a few cardamom seeds, cinnamon, clove, saffron if you have it, until the carrots are soft and the milk has evaporated. The natural sugars in the carrot make this dish breakfast sweet enough if you, like me, miss your morning jam.

Other than that, I've been feeling pretty good, besides wanted to switch to Lactaid for the rest of this program. Sorry to sound like a high school boy here, but is anyone experiencing a war with their stomach? I.e., letting it rip at the most inopportune moments? SERIOUSLY. I can't control it, and I wonder if it's this dairy that's making me run to the bathroom every 1o minutes.

Enough about that. Hope you're all feeling awesome and jumping up a storm!

Day 30. Love yourself!

I can't believe we're a third of the way there! That is, if we think of this process as having an "end." I hope it's just the beginning. I've been tired and cranky and craving things but physically I can do more--like carry 56 pounds of laundry like, 20 blocks (ok it was only 25 pounds and it was a block and half, but still, I had a computer, a bag full of books and another bag full of housewares, so there).

These past few workouts have sort of killed me. My knee has been bothering me - all tight and achy on the right side and behind so that it hurts to straighten it. I could count the number of times I fell during the floor jumps, which is an improvement from the first time - I kept tipping forward and met my granite countertop with a nice little smack. I think the last time I hit my head on the edge of the counter I was about three. I also catapulted (an attempt to save myself) into an open electrical socket while trying to turn my living room into a racetrack (was trying to do make all 40 creeps in one "lap"). Think we'll have to child poof our apartment.

Since love is in the air, allow me to partake in this consumer madness.

All I want for Valentine's Day is this she-rope. A digital jumprope that counts! And comes in pink! Because counting is too hard for this attention deficient girl. I tried you know, stacking coins and then removing one each time I completed 100 jumps, but I found it too much of an interruption. Plus, this rope costs less than a dozen roses this time of year!


Also, if you're listening, darling, I wouldn't mind a box of these:



The PCP version of course.

I'm thinking I'll save my indulgence for tomorrow. I've agonized about how to treat myself and after ogling a pastry case at my favorite cafe and fondling a bottle of Malbec the other day (think the sales guy was going to ask me to ahem, leave), I decided to just wait until the time was right, whenever that is...

Hunger!

I've finally gotten used to this constant eating and I'm worried! It's 10:30 a.m. and I've already polished off my breakfast and morning snack...seriously, I'm salivating.

I'm having some trouble with the workouts; specifically, keeping my body in balance for those floor jumps (um, has anyone else just toppled over while doing these? And how do you land?), and transitioning between the V sits (do your legs touch the floor between each one?).

My jumps were a mess last night. I need a new rope. I lose count, space out, wonder if I'm on 400 or 800...curse my "stability sneakers" which make my legs feel more like lead.

I'm also having preemptive panic attacks about Patrick's mention about living a coffee-free existence. I'm not going to think about it (LIVE IN THE NOW!) but, I had some nightmares last night.

Kidding, sort of.

Any past PCPers out there who can tell me how you survived without coffee, the nectar of the gods???

Half empty

Everywhere I go I see perfect set ups for incline pull-ups. Like this road block here -- which I happened upon in Park Slope, only there were TWO of these bad boys all lined up for me. How awesome would it be if I had just plopped down in the middle of the street and started pumping them lats?

And then I started thinking: it's a sign from god. Our road blocks are just opportunities to get stronger, right? So what's yours?

Mine's drinking. Straight up. Not like I need Dr. Drew to intervene or anything, but I do miss that glass of wine to take the edge off. Now I take the edge off with jumps, which is super awesome when you have to pay for your own heat in a super drafty apartment (who knew? Skippin' is the most economical way to steam up!).

However, allow me to introduce you to my new addiction:


Yummm...just looking at that cup makes me want to go to sleep so I can wake up and get me some.

Patrick told us that he used to drink tons of coffee when he first started PCP, and like, it's awesome and everything, especially in this cold (clutching a cup while you commute is such a good hand warmer) but I'm pretty sure these four cups a day (often coupled with a ton of raw veggies) are burning up my insides and eating away at my liver or something. But because of the three measly hours of sleep that I got last night, I could still put my head down on this desk and sleep through winter...

But have I mentioned that this apartment emptiness (we still gots no furniture) is awesome for jumping? I just finished two workouts because I missed yesterday (exhaustion, exhaustion, I still had my eyeliner on when I finally caught some zzzss) and tried Patrick's trick (pointing our toes up instead of down). It feels better on the knees, which were aching like mad last week, but I tripped up a lot. Then I almost broke my door frame trying to set up that pull-up bar.

You can't escape me pull ups. One day, I'll get you.

BTW: Here's a list of fun things you can do during those 15-20 second breaks between sets that you always feel like skipping:

1. Apply a fresh layer of top coat (all the dish washing is ruining the manicures, so take some preventative measure people)
2. Flip through your TV channels and laugh condescendingly at that dude selling that crazy looking ab torture contraption, then realize that you're enlightened and don't need to condescend, then wonder what it would be like if Oprah tried the PCP (we'd ALL be famous, ya hear?)
3. Marinate your dinner protein in... every spice in your cupboard.
4. Read them blogs. I love reading your blogs when I feel like quitting!

My humps, my humps....

Good morning and happy snow day!

Score one for this sleepy teacher who stumbled out of bed to teach an 8 a.m. class and then happily discovered she could stay home and work on her neglected PCP blog. Sorry, students. I know you were dying to discuss that Henrik Ibsen play, as was I. Though today I did have a slightly more interesting lesson in mind--the screening of a fascinating, frightening, enlightening movie called Food, Inc.

Watch it, learn, and give up eating Tyson chicken for life.

Speaking of removing hormones, antibiotics, and animals raised in feces from your diet, a few days ago, Patrick asked us to share some of those not so expected bodily changes that accompany revolutionizing one's eating and exercise habits. Besides slipping into my jeans a bit more easily, I am enjoying the "unseen" benefits of clean eating and isn't it rad? We get quality and quantity.

My older sister, who studied Iyengar yoga in India, always lectured us about "emptying our bowels" before our first meal of the day, and after every meal throughout the day. I used to laugh at how much emphasis she put on our trips to the bathroom, but now that I'm processing everything at rapid speed - getting rid of the stuff I don't need, the way nature intended - I can see what she means. This new lightness helps me feel strong, capable, and confident as I move about my day.

Speaking of getting rid of excess, on Thursday a friend commented that my "booty was shrinking." My first instinct was to grab it protectively, and plead, Don't go! Don't go! Then I figured I could do without the extra fat on my hips and thighs. Plus, all those lunges are totally going to give me some of that Rihanna/Fergieliciousness! I am SO wearing this outfit on Day 90:



In other news, though I don't notice a big change in my photographs (it depends on the light, I guess) I've noticed that my skin isn't the bumpy mess it normally is when I'm going through my monthly hormonal fluctuations. People around me have said I seem more relaxed since I've started the PCP and I have to say that while the pressure to follow every rule is a bit much (self-imposed?), I do find the detailed plan totally liberating because I'm not the one setting the guidelines for what and how much (my friend Emily mentioned this in her blog when she was ending the PCP. Check it).

Sure, when I saw that my lunch carb allowance was upped to 220!!! I thought, duuuuuuddeee! That's some serious whole grains! Have you ever consumed 220 grams of bread/pasta/cereal in one sitting? It takes discipline, focus, concentration! I had to turn away a student last week because it took me like, 40 minutes, to plow through my lunch! And the pre- and post workout snacks? What if you eat dinner after your workout, and your afternoon snack beforehand? What's a girl to do?

Reminds me of the diet Hilary Swank was on while training for Million Dollar Baby. She had to get up in the middle of the night to drink egg whites. It takes work to become a machine, people.

So here's a tip, team. If you find yourself reaching for your forbidden beloveds, the now dejected/pushed-to-the-back-of-the-shelf jars and bottles of sugar, olive oil, and sea salt, here are some ways to incorporate them into the PCP -- by buffing that bangin' body of yours with homemade exfoliating scrubs! Like this one, which kind of looks like a margarita....

Treat yourself!