BlogHer - 2008 Good Health-a-thon: Week #2 - Bagels of Death - Comments

BRICKS!

JenInShanghai — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 21:05:01 -0600

Yes! I see them!
Thanks for the clarification. I could never see the fish in that stupid color blob thing that you stick your nose on either...
I just got back from the gym where I spent one hour on the treadmill!
I think I could have actually lasted longer thanks to my ipod and watching Sasha's new victim, but the treadmill turned off by itself. Apparently one is not allowed to walk longer than an hour on a Chinese treadmill. Must have something to do with disturbing your chi.
Did I mention Sasha's new victim? Why do people who can actually RUN on the treadmill uphill while drinking out of a water bottle and not sweat or fly off the back end need a personal trainer?
How dangerous can liposuction be anyway?
Have a lovely evening!
Jen

This is awesome...

Kristin Darguzas — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 17:56:16 -0600

You have totally missed your calling as a comedian. And also, perhaps an urban artiste.

Yes, they're bricks. And Jen, you're hysterical.

Kristy Sammis — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 12:48:03 -0600

Elisa's right -- I was trying to be interpret-y and artistic. See? It's an urban landscape!

(I draw all my images in MS Word, if that's any indication of how artistic I actually am...)

Anyway! Jen, your stories are awesome. I'm enjoying reading them/you as well. Thanks for sharing. :)

---
Kristy Sammis
BlogHer's Conference & Event Planner
e. kristy@blogher.org

The red things are bricks, I believe

Elisa Camahort — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 08:24:47 -0600

Kristy is attempting to sketch an urban landscape in broad strokes. or so I believe upon reviewing her artist rendering of the bagel pusher :)

Elisa Camahort
BlogHer
elisa@blogher.org

What are the little red things behind the bagel pusher?

JenInShanghai — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 01:16:25 -0600

Hi Kristy!
You don't know me. I guess that is how this blog thing works, but I am having a great time reading about your attempts at fitness.
I am an American currently living in Shanghai and I too am attempting to start this year off great by losing weight and becoming a svelt gym-bound lycra wearing goddess.
It currently would take more lycra than is environmentally safe to cover my butt so I am just a round sweat pant clad huffer taking a chance on the treadmill at the moment.
I did however attempt the personal trainer (it worked so well for you the first time).
The housing complex I live in has a clubhouse with a gym and trainers so I booked an appointment with one. When I got to my first session the trainer introduced himself as Sasha (self-chosen English name.... better than my neighbor's trainer "Lexmark"...like the printer). He doesn't speak much English, but he was able to say "You fat. You must work me everyday."
So smiling and nodding while attempting to will my face to return to its natural color we began our first session.
Now I am not nearly skilled enough to draw out the visuals so I will have to rely on my written description, so picture this.... I am 5ft 4 inches and currently about 220 pounds... 120 of which is my butt. I am the world's largest Bartlett Pear.
Sasha said that I needed to work on my "coal" ( I think he meant core). His first suggestion (actually pantomime) was that I invert myself on a board and attempt to do sit-ups.
As I was standing there staring at this board with these little foot thingies at one end (the end that was up in the air) Your very entertaining description about the ball came to mind. I kept thinking "How the heck am I supposed to get into that thing?" not to mention the thought of putting the bottom half of this pear above the top.... well you get the idea....
I pointed to the treadmill and said "Can't we start there?"
"No. No good. You work coal"
So at the risk of snapping my neck I actually attempted to get into the device... not the MOST humiliating (Chinese mandatory health check tops that list) but certainly up there. I couldn't even come close to scooching my butt up high enough to hook my feet in the thingies.
Sasha just kept saying "No good No good"
My reply "ya think???!!!" was totally lost in translation....
I ended up trainer-less and on the treadmill.
Feel free to pass along any non-inverted exercises yoru trainer gives you... I fear the guidance and support I am looking for will not be found easily in this town!
Good Luck and thanks for the entertaining blog!
Your Stranger-friend,
Jen

no bagels?

Sarah — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 09:35:06 -0600

Aargh! What am I going to eat now?

BlogHer Contributing Editor, Sports and Fitness
Sarah and the Goon Squad
Draft Day Suit

Banana Bread is calling me

Denise — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 09:23:43 -0600

Time for breakfast, now that I've finished my Quad Grande Non-Fat Caramel Macchiato and my morning rounds.

Carbs are good.

~Denise
BlogHer Community Manager

Flamingo House Happenings

Carbs are back in?

Kristy Sammis — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 09:11:21 -0600

I had no idea! (I am kind of lame.) Clearly I need to direct my trainer's attention to BlogHer.

(And if that doesn't work, I will have her call you directly.) :)

---
Kristy Sammis
BlogHer's Conference & Event Planner
e. kristy@blogher.org

But, wait? I thought carbs were back in?

Jenny Lauck — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 23:23:11 -0600

You'll never convince me to give up bagels and cream cheese. Never. NEVER

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

*shakes fist at sky*

The Circus is in town!

Well you know...

sassymonkey — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 17:05:53 -0600

On the positive side you are actually EATING breakfast. That's more than I do most days.

Great. Now I want a bagel. ;-)

Sassymonkey and Sassymonkey Reads.

2008 Good Health-a-thon: Week #2 - Bagels of Death

Kristy Sammis — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 15:04:55 -0600

On January 2, BlogHer launched the 2008 Good Health-a-thon, which is all about getting healthy in the new year, no matter what form "getting healthy" takes.

The first update encapsulated my first experience with a personal trainer, wherein I had demonstrable difficulty negotiating "the ball" against such formidable forces such as "my boobs" and "gravity." You can read about it here, or just scroll through it to see the diagrams. Sigh.

This week, I offer Update #2, which I am sub-titling "HERE ARE SOME GOBS OF CASH; CAN I PLEASE BE THIN NOW?"

See, I have belonged to many gyms in my day, including the one I am currently offering monthly donations to. (Me and my current gym have worked out a great system, though. I don't go, so I no longer just feel guilty for not working out, now I get to pay for that privilege. Used to be you could get that kind of guilt for free.)

But as we learned last week, I was not throwing ENOUGH money at my weight issues, so I decided to supplement my spending by hiring a trainer. And as the first one didn't work out so well -

- I had to go searching for another.

Now. This second time around, I was a bit more careful, realizing that "cheap" is not maybe the BEST criterion on which to make one's selection of personal trainer. Ahem.

Thus, taking "cheap" out of the search process, I found a wonderful, smart, knowledgeable, enthusiastic and understanding trainer who costs as much as, oh, I dunno, raising a small pony.

(Oh, but that's okay. I'm sure having that "savings" thing everyone's always talking about isn't really all it's cracked up to be.)

So my goal now is to meet with my trainer once or maaaaybe twice a week (because seriously, that is all I can afford), and she will make me lift things. And bend. And stretch. And roll. And then one day I will wake up and not be sore and *poof* also be thin. Perfect!

As it is, after a few sessions with her, I am not sure I am losing any weight or gaining any strength, but I HAVE learned how to get on and off the ball without slamming into the floor. This is quantifiable progress. I'm considering adding it to my resume. My new LinkedIn headline will be all

"Marketing & Events Professional With 10+ Years' Experience. CAN GET OFF BALL!"

I believe we call this "work/life" balance.

Anyway, I started to wonder if maybe the reason I think things are going well is because we haven't really talked about diet. She has touched on the subject, but hasn't come at me full-force with broccoli-related advice, perhaps because she's afraid of scaring me off before I've paid for her second child's college tuition.

Well, except last session, she gently touched on the subject again.

"What have you been eating lately?" she asked verrrrrry casually.

"Well, I have to say, I'm trying to get into a routine now that I'm commuting. And my first couple weeks were okay, but not great. I stop for coffee at the drive-through every morning, and I was pickingup breakfast there, too."

She maintained a casual air as she asked, "Oh? And what do you get for breakfast?"

Uh oh.

"I've been getting bagels," I said, trying not to look her in the eye.

She tried not to wince. I could see it. "Do you at least get...whole grain?"

"Yes," I said, because I do. But then she asked, "And what do you put on it?"

Um.

Now I was wincing.

"...c-c-ream cheese?" I said, as though asking a question. As though turning it into a question could make it be less true.

But it didn't make it less true. And her face fell. She looked at me like I'd just told her I eat puppies for breakfast. With a side of babies.

"Kristy." She said. It was a complete statement. One that suggested, gently, that I had officially ruined her life.

I felt the bagel shame.

And I expected to get a further lecture, to hear details about the evils of bagels, but none came. She had said her piece. We moved on from one form of bendy torture to some other form of bendy torture in silence, save for her suggestion that I do at least 15 reps of some curly arm thing.

But then, as I was huffing and puffing away, she launched into this casual, earnest, HORRIFYING soliloquy about how THIS IS THE TIME in my life to lose this weight and get in shape and get healthy because otherwise I am getting OLD and looking down a dark and narrow path of DEATH. All that awaits me is diabetes and heart disease and stroke and more things that lead to DEATH.

I am maybe paraphrasing.

But the point is, no one in the history of the world has ever painted such a bleak picture of bagels. And she totally meant well and was just trying to be helpful, but OH MY GOD. Bagels! They are just...just...innocent rounds of delicousness! Little discs of heaven, covered in fatty goodness! Satisfying celebrations of carbs!

Except right, they are also apparently killing me. While I was busy thinking "Hey, at least they aren't Krispy Kremes," the bagels have been busy plotting my end, serving as vehicles of doom, working steadfastly to bring about my untimely demise. One cream cheese packet at a time.

Damn it.

So now I'm working on being a Bagel Rejector. Perhaps if enough of us with gym memberships and trainers and guilty consciences come together, we can form some sort of Ban-The-Bagel Coalition. We can march up and down the streets (cardio!) and at last, draw attention to the insidious evil that lives within each scrumptious bagel bite.

We can end the madness.

And the bagels? They can fend for themselves on the black market for all I care.

In the meantime, I shall have to re-calibrate my morning routine. Pass the unflavored, nutrient-rich yogurt, please.