The Supreme Zen of an Empty Gym

So I had a rough three weeks. Three weeks that involved eating lots of sugar, skipping out on kickboxing and generally indulging myself to the point where I felt icky. Icky because I felt like I got way too comfortable. But I’ve managed to get back on the wagon. The Fitbit is back on, every exercise and morsel of food is being logged in my fitness pal, and I’m back to working out regularly.

I also came to a very surprise realization. I don’t hate running or the treadmill. Continue reading

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The Biggest Loser, Hotel Edition.

As I’ve mentioned, for the next two months I’m traveling for work and living out of a suitcase in Fort St. John. Initially I was discouraged during my first trip here right before Christmas, but after some time off and making some real headway at work I’m super pumped about being here. I’ve decided to take these two months and use them to my full advantage, making my primary focus (aside from work) exercise and fitness. Continue reading

Greetings From Fort St. John OR How I Survived Without Protein Powder

Well, on my first official work related trip recruiting and hiring staff for a new location of our store that’s slated to open very soon. I flew up here a few days ago, on one of those smallish Bombardier planes. The kind where they don’t connect directly to the terminal and you have to traipse across the tarmac. When we landed I saw nothing but white blowing snow, and suddenly I had Winnipeg flashbacks. But I was prepared bundled in layer upon layer and donning my ugly trusty UGG boots I deplaned only to be bitch slapped with the intense feeling of snow and a -39 windchill.

God it felt like Winnipeg. Continue reading

Everybody’s Changing and I Don’t Feel The Same

Nothing like a reference to a terrible early 2000’s Keane song.

But everything is changing. I’m trying to roll with it but to be perfectly honest, I’m not very good at just “rolling” with things. Work is sending me to Fort St. John to hire staff for a new location they’re building and to head up the store set up there. I left one small city for a big city only to be transplanted to the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere. Every time I tell someone where I’m going they groan, and knowing the kind of high maintenance problem child I am, the tell me how I’m going to hate it there. I’m sure I am, but I’ll tough it out I suppose. I’ll be there from the end of this month to the end of February. So I’m sure my next few blog updates will be full of self pity.

I had planned to go back to Winnipeg for the Christmas break but now it seems I’ll only be spending the 24th and 25th, and possibly the 26th there. That all depends on my productivity while I’m up in Fort St. John, it could be shorter or it could be longer. Either way I’m not a fan of flying by the seat of my pants. Nothing is worse than an ill planned trip home, especially with so many people who are important to me, who I absolutely need to see.

I feel like all of these changes have my emotions in overdrive. I had a total meltdown today after seeing someone very dear to me. I think the thought of the holidays being so close and being in a place where I may feel total isolated has me scared. It has me wanting to pull everything I care about close to me so I can savor it for a little bit longer before having to put my big girl pants on and deal with being alone for a bit.

All of the stress has the “slimies” out of control. I can’t keep anything solid down lately. So it’s back to a diet of protein shakes and smoothies jam packed with spinach and kale and beets. Tastes horrible, I don’t know how anyone can say with a straight face that “green” juice is tasty. Bold faced liars. It tastes like dirt with a base note of feet.

I don’t even know if they’ll have protein powder in this backwards place. Or a blender available for that matter. Ugh. No dirty feet smoothies for me. Woe is me.

Vegas, a fat girl’s dream.

Oh Las Vegas.

I have a love hate relationship with this place. It really is the city of sin, and it took all of my willpower not to give in a few weekends ago. By fluke I managed to have a three day weekend and decided to tag along with my friend Nhi and her friend Kerri on a weekend trip to Vegas. This was my first real trip post-op, and it was a lot more difficult than I had anticipated.

First of all, I am a much cheaper drunk than I ever remember being. Our first stop on our Vegas adventure was a favourite restaurant of ours, http://www.fireflylv.com/ which is an amazing tapas place that serves the most amazing bacon wrapped dates filled with goats cheese and walnuts, topped in a balsamic reduction. In a word, it’s orgasmic. We get there, and between the three of us ordered 2 pitchers of sangria. Typically I can down an entire pitcher of the stuff by myself, but this was my first really attempt at getting drunk since the surgery. Half of a glass in and I was a mess, drunk texting, drunk dialing, and just being ridiculous in general. We ended up on Fremont Street that night, and a good time, encountered a place called “The D”….. I know all about the D.

The rest of the trip was filled with drunken Margaritaville antics and walking up and down the strip. Oh and on the day I flew home I turned 27 and had a bit of a mental breakdown about it. But aside from that I had a good time, ate like crap, walked a ton and still managed to lose 2 pounds over the course of that weekend. No complaints.

The challenges of this short but sweet trip were that I tried so hard to eat on this trip like I normally would, but I just couldn’t do it. We went to the Cheesecake Factory, I ordered a burger and ate a quarter of it, felt uncomfortably full for a solid hour or two, and threw out the left overs because I couldn’t be bothered to carry them around with me all day. Then I went to the candy store called Sugar and bought tons of salt water taffy, which I’m still working on. It’s a struggle to try to enjoy everything with all of the restrictions. In the end, it’s a waste of money for me to try to eat like a normal person, so being as cheap as I am, I’m not going to even bother trying.

Soon to come, my fears and issues with becoming 27.

Wanderlust.

Wanderlust [ˈwɒndəˌlʌst]n a great desire to travel and rove about

 

This has always been me. I’ve always had a passport that is valid, ready for the next adventure. As I retired my old passport, full of stamps from across the world, and picked up my new one I had this weird sense of excitement. A new passport with 24 empty pages waiting to be filled with stamps for all of my new adventures.

I’m curious to know what it’s going to be like to travel without being so conscious of my size. I find that when I travel I try to draw as little attention to myself as possible. In North America being overweight is not out of the ordinary. So when I walk around I don’t feel self conscious because I know that I’m one of many overweight people walking around my neighborhood. But when I’m somewhere like Spain for example, I know I stick out like a sore thumb, so I do my best to be as incognito as possible. It’s places like this that I’m most excited to visit again once I’m healthy and in shape. I always feel this way when I visit the Philippines, aka the Father Land.

One thing about Asia that may be a stereotype to some, but a reality to me is that everyone is tiny. Even the fatties are tiny by western standards. I come from a family where being 5’7″ make me a giant. And weighing more than 100 pounds soaking wet is a shocker. So when I travel to the Philippines and I step foot on the soil of my ancestors, I feel automatically out of place. I’m the ultimate antithesis to everything that is Filipino. I’m half white so that’s already one strike against me. My complexion is what they call “puti”. A word I hear often when I’m there. I’m tall, which is noticeable, but even more noticeable when I’m walking alongside my 4’8″ grandma and 5’4″ father. I have thick curly hair, which people seem to like to touch and remark about; this is also something I’ve been bitter about my entire life. Straight black Asian hair just wasn’t in the cards for me. To top it all off I’m big, not just “mataba” as the locals would say. But I am gigantic in their standards.

When I’m in the Philippines people are curious about me. They aren’t out and out rude, but they want to see me, this big, tall, pale skinned curly haired girl. I’d like to visit and just fit in. Fly under the radar. I want to know what it’s like to travel like a local.

The wanderlust in me is building.