Or the blog. As usual, it has taken a painful jolt of reality to remind me that I need to take care of myself. And that I have a blog that I should be writing. The reality check de jour: facebook blowing up with complaints about how the gym is so annoyingly busy in January. Am I guilty of making the gym busier? No, of course not. I have pizza to eat. But am I guilty of making the obligatory promise that THIS WILL BE THE YEAR I get in shape for good? Umm ... yeah.
This year's self-delusion comes in the form of a commitment to some sort of physical activity every day and a rabbit food diet. No, not the pellets (which sound delicious when you're on the rabbit food diet) -- just fresh vegetables. Luckily, the Boyfriend has talked some sense into me for this go-around of the rabbit food diet, insisting that we allow some salt and some cooking. The original diet that preceded The Great Cruise Vacation of 2011 was hardcore - all raw vegetables, juice, and water. No sugar, salt, meat or fat. Incidentally, that diet was also the creator of The Great Headache and Life Hate of 2011.
To supplement the modified diet, I suggested the Boyfriend draw up a workout plan - you know, just so there was something up on the wall to stare judgmentally at us if we didn't follow it. I had a 20-minute every day goal in mind. What was sent to me was the workout plan undoubtedly used by one of those "people" who run marathons frequently and, you know, poop themselves at the end of the race. Okay, maybe it wasn't that intense, but it was definitely not fitting into my reality. "Week 1" of the workout called for:
1 - A "Brisk Walk or Jog 2 miles" every weekday. Okay ... I mean, it takes like 35 minutes to walk two miles, and I hate jogging, so I guess I can just spend a little longer than I was planning. It is my health, after all ...
2 - "Pullups: 3 sets of max." Well, how can it be three sets if the first set is my max? He must mean "max ___" as in, fill in the blank and this is the most you have to do each set. I guess I'm supposed to fill that in. That would be "max .2", because then if I do all three sets together, it's the total .6 pullup I can do, it that won't take long at all. Phew!
3 - "Pushups: 3 sets of max; Situps: 3 sets of max." Ummm ... this is not only looking very time consuming, but difficult. Did I not mention that I want to be skinny, but I would like to not work very hard for it?
4 - "Stretch: 15 minutes." Yeah right. I actually enjoy stretching, but after who knows how long the rest of this is going to take, am I really going to put 15 more minutes in between me and dinner?
UGH. And that was just for the weekdays. I know getting started is the hardest part, but really, I cannot imagine having the time or energy to do this twice a week, let alone five times plus a weekend bike-a-thon. Today is a Tuesday ... I'm sure that gives me a week to think about it until another Monday rolls around. I mean, why would he start the workout chart on a Monday unless he very specifically wanted us to start on the most meaningful starting day of all, Monday? And just put that purchase of time on my tab, thankyouverymuch.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Thursday, August 25, 2011
A Study in the Art of Buffet
So, I went on a cruise with my family last week, and as anyone who's been on a cruise knows, it's all about the food. A cruise virgin may ask, "Why in the heck would it be all about the food? Why would you make it all about the food when the rest of it is bathing suits and pool-side World's Sexiest Man competitions?" Well, Cruise Virgin, it's because the food is what's paid for in the cost of the cruise (as opposed to the alcohol, which you pay for on the ship). And because the food is pretty darn good. So why not order three entrees so that you can try things you would never take a risk of paying for at a restaurant?
I know, it's a combination of gluttony and the need to grasp with white knuckles anything that is "free" (not that it was free, but you know what I mean). I'm sticking to my aforementioned justification for ordering multiple entrees at the sit-down meals--the waiter made them smaller portions and everyone passed them around the table to try. I have to add that the first night I was met with mortified gasps when I ordered, but by night three everyone was in on the multiple entree ordering! So there!
So let's turn to the much more interesting phenomenon that lives around the clock on a cruise ship: the buffet. The buffet is by far the best solution to the unique crisis of feeding thousands of people. But the biggest problem with the buffet is that NO ONE--not even the woman delicately counting the number of sprouts she takes from the salad bar--can help looking like a gluttonous American cow grazing, eyes wide and glazed over with the promise of endless nom noms. I mean it - even the sprouts woman looks like another one of the cattle, shuffling along the grazing line.
Yes, there are people who KILL a buffet line, and they have the circumference to prove it--but that's not what I was really bothered by. One night there was ... wait for it ... a midnight buffet. Oh yes. And this midnight buffet was on the top deck, two long rows of food lined up next to the pool. Yes. Next to the pool. Flanking it, on both sides. The midnight buffet was actually part of a whole pool deck celebration, with a DJ and dancing and people in the pools and hot tubs. Great, right? Actually, from my perch on one of the elevated deck-chair rows, it was just icky--most people were in their bathing suits, dripping as they waited on an insanely long line for dinner number two. Like I said, this isn't about judging people for partaking--if I hadn't just gotten through with our late seating dinner, I probably would have had some too. This is about how it looked. I can't put my finger on it, but it disturbed me. It was far too reminiscent of something nonhuman--more animal than human for sure.
I spent many years working at Fogo de Chao, a Brazilian churrascaria where the food is unlimited. The primary service is table-side meat carving, but there is also an impressive (and inappropriately delicious) salad bar buffet in the middle of the restaurant. I remember that even when I worked there something always struck me as strange when I saw people line up at this fancy restaurant, nicely dressed, and stand there shuffling along, clutching their plates, waiting to get up to the first part of the buffet. I can't reconcile the fact that I love a buffet (so many options!), but I hate the way I look, we look, standing at it.
Portion control will always be my nemesis, and the buffet is the ultimate saboteur of moderation. I guess I want to hate it, but I love it, and our complicated Sam and Diane relationship will inevitably be memorialized in an HBO production starring Kirstie Alley and the starboard buffet line. Ugh ... I gag just thinking about watching it (but I want to go back for thirds!).
I know, it's a combination of gluttony and the need to grasp with white knuckles anything that is "free" (not that it was free, but you know what I mean). I'm sticking to my aforementioned justification for ordering multiple entrees at the sit-down meals--the waiter made them smaller portions and everyone passed them around the table to try. I have to add that the first night I was met with mortified gasps when I ordered, but by night three everyone was in on the multiple entree ordering! So there!
So let's turn to the much more interesting phenomenon that lives around the clock on a cruise ship: the buffet. The buffet is by far the best solution to the unique crisis of feeding thousands of people. But the biggest problem with the buffet is that NO ONE--not even the woman delicately counting the number of sprouts she takes from the salad bar--can help looking like a gluttonous American cow grazing, eyes wide and glazed over with the promise of endless nom noms. I mean it - even the sprouts woman looks like another one of the cattle, shuffling along the grazing line.
Yes, there are people who KILL a buffet line, and they have the circumference to prove it--but that's not what I was really bothered by. One night there was ... wait for it ... a midnight buffet. Oh yes. And this midnight buffet was on the top deck, two long rows of food lined up next to the pool. Yes. Next to the pool. Flanking it, on both sides. The midnight buffet was actually part of a whole pool deck celebration, with a DJ and dancing and people in the pools and hot tubs. Great, right? Actually, from my perch on one of the elevated deck-chair rows, it was just icky--most people were in their bathing suits, dripping as they waited on an insanely long line for dinner number two. Like I said, this isn't about judging people for partaking--if I hadn't just gotten through with our late seating dinner, I probably would have had some too. This is about how it looked. I can't put my finger on it, but it disturbed me. It was far too reminiscent of something nonhuman--more animal than human for sure.
I spent many years working at Fogo de Chao, a Brazilian churrascaria where the food is unlimited. The primary service is table-side meat carving, but there is also an impressive (and inappropriately delicious) salad bar buffet in the middle of the restaurant. I remember that even when I worked there something always struck me as strange when I saw people line up at this fancy restaurant, nicely dressed, and stand there shuffling along, clutching their plates, waiting to get up to the first part of the buffet. I can't reconcile the fact that I love a buffet (so many options!), but I hate the way I look, we look, standing at it.
Portion control will always be my nemesis, and the buffet is the ultimate saboteur of moderation. I guess I want to hate it, but I love it, and our complicated Sam and Diane relationship will inevitably be memorialized in an HBO production starring Kirstie Alley and the starboard buffet line. Ugh ... I gag just thinking about watching it (but I want to go back for thirds!).
Monday, August 8, 2011
Crash and Burn Diet
So yeah, we all know crash diets are bad for you blah blah blah, but after some lengthy research, I've decided I am enough of an expert to declare: They are all shams (I know! Breaking news, right?). And not shams like they don't work, but shams in that they don't do ANYTHING more than what healthy diets do - cut calories. It's a load of malarkey. I was looking for a dangerous fad diet that would be more effective than starving myself by somehow creating a chemical reaction in my body that would bend space and time, causing the fat to be burned at a rate greater than the traditional net loss of 3500 calories = 1 lb weight loss. It's just not out there - the math is fixed. As someone who has spent the past three years in law school mastering the art of "it depends," this is very upsetting.
What, tell me, WHAT is the point of eating lemon juice, cayenne pepper and maple syrup in water if it does NOTHING more than eating the same amount of calories but in the form of raw leafy greens? Why on earth would you trade boring yet nutritious veggies for disgusting napalm drink if it results in the same exact weight loss? UGH.
I guess what it comes down to is that we all know how it's supposed to work, but we look to the fad or crash diet because a small, irrational part of us wants to believe that the magic is out there. It's the same part of my brain that hopes I'm a muggle-born and my acceptance letter to the real-life Hogwarts just got lost in the mail. I'm sure that owl with the message clearing up the mistake is on his way as we speak.
I've decided that a "healthy" crash diet is in order. I'm going to try to take in the least amount of calories as possible, but the ones I do eat will be healthy. Raw veggies, turkey breast, no salt, no sugar, no booze - that drill. And of course workouts (blech ...). The book of shame food diary has been moved temporarily to the kitchen whiteboard to up the in-sight in-mind factor, and the fridge has been emptied of all enjoyable, fatty food (how I'll miss you so!).
Also, the timing of this is hilarious - of course I would start a diet where I will undoubtedly become cranky, headache-y, and plain old irritable right when I'm at my best: when I'm PMSing. It's actually great timing, truth be told. Why not pile diet bitchiness on top of monthly bitchiness for one week instead of two weeks of Bon Qui Qui back to back? I'd like to say I'll stick with this longer than a week, but I know myself better than that. I'm aiming for the one week jump start and then a happy medium afterward. I can dream, can't I? It's day one all over again, and we'll see how it goes from here ...
What, tell me, WHAT is the point of eating lemon juice, cayenne pepper and maple syrup in water if it does NOTHING more than eating the same amount of calories but in the form of raw leafy greens? Why on earth would you trade boring yet nutritious veggies for disgusting napalm drink if it results in the same exact weight loss? UGH.
I guess what it comes down to is that we all know how it's supposed to work, but we look to the fad or crash diet because a small, irrational part of us wants to believe that the magic is out there. It's the same part of my brain that hopes I'm a muggle-born and my acceptance letter to the real-life Hogwarts just got lost in the mail. I'm sure that owl with the message clearing up the mistake is on his way as we speak.
I've decided that a "healthy" crash diet is in order. I'm going to try to take in the least amount of calories as possible, but the ones I do eat will be healthy. Raw veggies, turkey breast, no salt, no sugar, no booze - that drill. And of course workouts (blech ...). The book of shame food diary has been moved temporarily to the kitchen whiteboard to up the in-sight in-mind factor, and the fridge has been emptied of all enjoyable, fatty food (how I'll miss you so!).
Also, the timing of this is hilarious - of course I would start a diet where I will undoubtedly become cranky, headache-y, and plain old irritable right when I'm at my best: when I'm PMSing. It's actually great timing, truth be told. Why not pile diet bitchiness on top of monthly bitchiness for one week instead of two weeks of Bon Qui Qui back to back? I'd like to say I'll stick with this longer than a week, but I know myself better than that. I'm aiming for the one week jump start and then a happy medium afterward. I can dream, can't I? It's day one all over again, and we'll see how it goes from here ...
Friday, July 15, 2011
Timing is Everything
So, lack of willpower and insatiable hunger aside, timing has become my greatest weight loss enemy. In an attempt to eat heavier meals earlier in the day (and in theory lighter ones later), I've turned into a late-night snacker, which has never really been a problem before. Full disclosure: these ridiculous diet pills I'm taking are co-conspirators. Okay, here's how my day goes.
Wake up, take a diet pill. It says it works best on an empty stomach, and to not eat anything for 30 minutes afterwards. So I do my morning teeth face hair dress routine, and only ten minutes have gone by. Man I'm hungry. I'm also tired. I guess I could fix both by napping for 20 minutes!
Wake up. Again. An hour later. Dammit! Well now I certainly don't have time to work out - got to start studying. At least I can eat now - the caffeine explosion in my stomach sounds like my grandma's cat that was on loan from the seventh circle of hell. And it's the first meal of the day, so it's gonna be a big one! A nice big healthy omelette with lots of veggies ... and of course some cheese (it tastes like nothing without cheese! and salt.) ... and I should probably use that delicious tomato sauce from last night (wait - didn't the boyfriend put butter and milk in it and that's why it tasted good? I don't remember ... but using up leftovers is totally a worthy goal - pour that deliciousness on!). So I end up eating a 1500 calorie omelette for breakfast. And iced coffee because it's summer! With lots of milk and sugar! It's the first meal of the day, it's fine ... I'll have all this burned off by lunch.
A couple of hours later and my eyes are glazed over from outlining. I mean, I'm sure turning a page every couple of minutes while sitting near-motionless at this table for hours has really done the trick of burning those morning calories. Brain cardio? Anyways, time to eat! But wait - that stupid diet pill. If I wait until an hour or two after I eat so that I have an empty-ish stomach I won't be able to go to sleep (they have like 3000% of your yearly dose of caffeine in each). So I should just take one now and hold out for a half hour.
After half an hour of acting like I'm doing work while I'm literally staring down my clock, watching the minute hand creep around, I tear through my fridge in a hunger rage. Some leftovers, a few bites of ice cream while they heat up ... I mean, it's lunch time so it's still an early meal, right? Dang - it's already 3pm? Well, I'll just skip dinner, and maybe I can get in a quick workout later.
Seven rolls around, and I ignore the growls. No - I will not eat! I ate two huge meals and burned approximately 5 calories today during my only physical activity: walking around the kitchen to cook. Just concentrate on studying. Maybe a workout? Neh ... And no - I couldn't even imagine a fake reason to insert while writing this.
Nine o'clock - ugh - no more studying. Gonna watch a little TV. I'm not hungry I'm not hungry I'm not hungry ...
Eleven - time for bed. I consider swallowing my toothpaste. I lay in bed, tired, but SOOO hungry.
Midnight - Eff it. Leftover chicken and rice with a reheated biscuit. Carbs, cream and carbs. Delicious, but shameful. Get back in bed, try to do it all differently the next day ...
Wake up, take a diet pill. It says it works best on an empty stomach, and to not eat anything for 30 minutes afterwards. So I do my morning teeth face hair dress routine, and only ten minutes have gone by. Man I'm hungry. I'm also tired. I guess I could fix both by napping for 20 minutes!
Wake up. Again. An hour later. Dammit! Well now I certainly don't have time to work out - got to start studying. At least I can eat now - the caffeine explosion in my stomach sounds like my grandma's cat that was on loan from the seventh circle of hell. And it's the first meal of the day, so it's gonna be a big one! A nice big healthy omelette with lots of veggies ... and of course some cheese (it tastes like nothing without cheese! and salt.) ... and I should probably use that delicious tomato sauce from last night (wait - didn't the boyfriend put butter and milk in it and that's why it tasted good? I don't remember ... but using up leftovers is totally a worthy goal - pour that deliciousness on!). So I end up eating a 1500 calorie omelette for breakfast. And iced coffee because it's summer! With lots of milk and sugar! It's the first meal of the day, it's fine ... I'll have all this burned off by lunch.
A couple of hours later and my eyes are glazed over from outlining. I mean, I'm sure turning a page every couple of minutes while sitting near-motionless at this table for hours has really done the trick of burning those morning calories. Brain cardio? Anyways, time to eat! But wait - that stupid diet pill. If I wait until an hour or two after I eat so that I have an empty-ish stomach I won't be able to go to sleep (they have like 3000% of your yearly dose of caffeine in each). So I should just take one now and hold out for a half hour.
After half an hour of acting like I'm doing work while I'm literally staring down my clock, watching the minute hand creep around, I tear through my fridge in a hunger rage. Some leftovers, a few bites of ice cream while they heat up ... I mean, it's lunch time so it's still an early meal, right? Dang - it's already 3pm? Well, I'll just skip dinner, and maybe I can get in a quick workout later.
Seven rolls around, and I ignore the growls. No - I will not eat! I ate two huge meals and burned approximately 5 calories today during my only physical activity: walking around the kitchen to cook. Just concentrate on studying. Maybe a workout? Neh ... And no - I couldn't even imagine a fake reason to insert while writing this.
Nine o'clock - ugh - no more studying. Gonna watch a little TV. I'm not hungry I'm not hungry I'm not hungry ...
Eleven - time for bed. I consider swallowing my toothpaste. I lay in bed, tired, but SOOO hungry.
Midnight - Eff it. Leftover chicken and rice with a reheated biscuit. Carbs, cream and carbs. Delicious, but shameful. Get back in bed, try to do it all differently the next day ...
Friday, July 8, 2011
Lemons, Lemonade, and the Bitter Bright Side
Well, I've certainly been off track, haven't I? The law school finals, the graduation, the weddings, the bar study classes; they've served admirably as the the greatest excuses in my life for the eating and not working out that have resulted in my personal best for weight gain.
But as I find myself panicking with the bar exam far too near in the future, I am finally reversing the excuses - working out and cooking healthy meals is now my way to briefly excuse myself from studying. (And of course blogging about it serves the same purpose.) It's an excuse, yes, but it's a structured and necessary excuse. My first year of law school, I was on a steady workout kick before and during exams, and it worked wonders. I slept like a baby and forgot about my usually looming-large largeness insecurities (replaced, of course, with my holy-crap-what-the-hell-is-a-fee-tail insecurities). So here I am, full circle (still don't know what a fee tail is), hoping to apply something other than studying that will help me live through this. Don't get me wrong, the hour I spent on the treadmill this morning I spent staring at notes -- but in all honesty I can't say it's valuable study time when it takes 10 minutes to get through one bouncingbouncingbouncing page. But it's worth it because I can't live with myself unless I'm studying 12 hours a day for this though my brain only holds up well for 8 hours of studying.
And a note about all the melodrama: This is for me--I'm writing to take a break and to self-medicate. I know I'm whining - sue me. But honestly, the bar is the first thing in all of law school that has truly lived up to the hype of being as awful as everyone says it is. With that, back to making charts.
But as I find myself panicking with the bar exam far too near in the future, I am finally reversing the excuses - working out and cooking healthy meals is now my way to briefly excuse myself from studying. (And of course blogging about it serves the same purpose.) It's an excuse, yes, but it's a structured and necessary excuse. My first year of law school, I was on a steady workout kick before and during exams, and it worked wonders. I slept like a baby and forgot about my usually looming-large largeness insecurities (replaced, of course, with my holy-crap-what-the-hell-is-a-fee-tail insecurities). So here I am, full circle (still don't know what a fee tail is), hoping to apply something other than studying that will help me live through this. Don't get me wrong, the hour I spent on the treadmill this morning I spent staring at notes -- but in all honesty I can't say it's valuable study time when it takes 10 minutes to get through one bouncingbouncingbouncing page. But it's worth it because I can't live with myself unless I'm studying 12 hours a day for this though my brain only holds up well for 8 hours of studying.
And a note about all the melodrama: This is for me--I'm writing to take a break and to self-medicate. I know I'm whining - sue me. But honestly, the bar is the first thing in all of law school that has truly lived up to the hype of being as awful as everyone says it is. With that, back to making charts.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Days Back Then through Something-or-Other
Okay, that's enough of the counting - I can't possibly justify trying to backtrack the days I've missed. Anyhoo, here I am, in the present, and a fat lard to boot. I'm trying to get back into the blogs and fitness and healthy eating because yesterday I caught a glimpse of myself naked in the mirror and gagged. Yeah, it's bad. I'm sure you can see all the excuses coming, but I'll spare you. All you need to know to catch you up to today is that I've been cashing in on all the end-of-year free meals and it culminated in my thinking that the Michelin Man had broken into my bedroom yesterday, but it was just the aforementioned reflection of myself in the mirror.
So yesterday I hopped back on the bandwagon, hoping that this time I can keep it together with enough perseverance and intensity to maybe be able to enjoy at least one month out at the pool in a bathing suit this summer. I can't believe "bathing suit" is a dirty word now - when did that happen? Ugh - I feel so old. I should just give up now and resign myself to being one of those old leathery cows washed up on a reclining chair on Daytona Beach, straining to slather oil on the back of my gigantic fat arms and barely able to lift up one ass cheek to pick a wedgie from my leopard print one-piece bathing suit (complete with attached skirt). It's that or never go to the beach again, and the latter is out of the question. Optimism ahoy!
Seriously, yesterday I went shopping and cooked for the week - pea and asparagus soup, coq au vin, ground turkey chilaquiles, and salads. This morning I went for a run (okay, mostly a walk, but there was running involved) and did some pathetic dumbbell exercises. Please God let this keep my arms from reaching a twenty-inch circumference.
As you might be able to tell, I'm in a bit of a funk. I had a few suspicions about why, and I think they are partly to blame, but as I came back into school and sat down at my desk to write this, I think the big reason came to me: school is over. No more classes. Just a few papers, a final, and that's it. And the problem with that is that law school is what I'm good at. I hope I'll be good at whatever I do after this, but it's always a little bit scary to leave something you're comfortable with. I came in to the office and looked at all the empty desks. All the 3Ls had probably reveled in clearing out their spaces. But my desk is full - books, binders, Westlaw printouts, coffee mug, gym equipment and a spare set of flip flops hanging out underneath. Am I just being reluctant, or am I in a full blown state of denial?
Whichever it is, time to get over it and man up. I hear my dad's voice again: "WALK IT OFF!" As usual, he's right. Time to bang this thing out and move on to something bigger and better, whatever it is. And if I fail miserably, may I have stuck with the health kick and become hot!
So yesterday I hopped back on the bandwagon, hoping that this time I can keep it together with enough perseverance and intensity to maybe be able to enjoy at least one month out at the pool in a bathing suit this summer. I can't believe "bathing suit" is a dirty word now - when did that happen? Ugh - I feel so old. I should just give up now and resign myself to being one of those old leathery cows washed up on a reclining chair on Daytona Beach, straining to slather oil on the back of my gigantic fat arms and barely able to lift up one ass cheek to pick a wedgie from my leopard print one-piece bathing suit (complete with attached skirt). It's that or never go to the beach again, and the latter is out of the question. Optimism ahoy!
Seriously, yesterday I went shopping and cooked for the week - pea and asparagus soup, coq au vin, ground turkey chilaquiles, and salads. This morning I went for a run (okay, mostly a walk, but there was running involved) and did some pathetic dumbbell exercises. Please God let this keep my arms from reaching a twenty-inch circumference.
As you might be able to tell, I'm in a bit of a funk. I had a few suspicions about why, and I think they are partly to blame, but as I came back into school and sat down at my desk to write this, I think the big reason came to me: school is over. No more classes. Just a few papers, a final, and that's it. And the problem with that is that law school is what I'm good at. I hope I'll be good at whatever I do after this, but it's always a little bit scary to leave something you're comfortable with. I came in to the office and looked at all the empty desks. All the 3Ls had probably reveled in clearing out their spaces. But my desk is full - books, binders, Westlaw printouts, coffee mug, gym equipment and a spare set of flip flops hanging out underneath. Am I just being reluctant, or am I in a full blown state of denial?
Whichever it is, time to get over it and man up. I hear my dad's voice again: "WALK IT OFF!" As usual, he's right. Time to bang this thing out and move on to something bigger and better, whatever it is. And if I fail miserably, may I have stuck with the health kick and become hot!
Monday, April 4, 2011
Days 16-22: The Prince Diaries
Holy Cannoli. This past week has been absolutely incredible. I went to New York to compete in the Prince Evidence moot court competition, and my team won the whole thing. The WHOLE thing. Yeah.
So what comes with victory? Absolution! That's right - every piece of piece of cake, every bite of pasta, every second trip to the buffet line was not only worth it, but necessary. I have my extra pasta pounds to thank for making my skirt too tight and consequently making me stand up straighter with my stomach sucked in so that I didn't split the skirt. Who knows? Maybe if I were slightly more slouched I wouldn't have made it as far ...
In the spirit of blindly ignoring the purpose for this "healthier living" blog, I will now brag about all the delicious food I overindulged in. The never-ending pasta service at Becco (Manhattan, theater district) included mushroom and sage ravioli, tomato and basil spaghetti, and orecchiette with bacon and swiss chard - as always, it was all heavenly. And, as always, I ate more than any reasonable woman should. Another highlight was the grilled duck salad at Bar Tabac on Smith St. in Brooklyn - earthy duck, peppery arugula, bacon, walnuts and a grape dressing made for a perfect lunch on a cold and rainy day. Also on Smith St. was Yoshi sushi - I had one of the best rolls I've ever tasted - it was spicy tuna and avocado, but instead of seaweed as a wrapper they used shaved cucumber - the cool, crunchy cucumber and creamy avocado contrasting the spicy tuna was just perfect. And of course, there was the food at Brooklyn Law School for the competition - let me tell you, these people know how to entertain - everything from the daily buffets to the over-the-top final banquet (the mac and cheese was to die for). It was all wonderful.
But despite the expansion of my waste line over the course of the weekend, I did manage to make it to the hotel gym every morning of the competition. And by make it to the gym I mean to pass through it to get to the whirlpool. Okay, I did actually do some light yoga and walking, but come on, who can turn down a whirlpool?!?!? And for reals - I did LOTS of walking. The last day I walked from Brooklyn to the East Village. And then I ate Pierogies in cheese sauce in the East Village. But the important thing is that I walked there.
But of course, the meal I was looking forward to most was Mom's home cooking on the last night of the trip. Mom and Dad had the teammates and I out to Long Island for a victory dinner with my sister and her boyfriend. Wine way too nice for the occasion was brought out, and we ate stromboli, cheese, lasagna, Italian salad, meatballs, and homemade zeppoles until we were fit to burst. We drank liquid gold dessert wine, moved to the living room, and watched the Top Chef finale. We watched hysterical YouTube videos and cracked up over the Bronz Zoo cobra's tweets and the AccuWeatherman's threats to lay the hammer of snow on the cobra. My brother left work early so he could stop by for a surprise hello. It was perfect. The perfect ending to a perfect weekend of hard work, satisfaction, good friends, good food, and fun. As my dad says, "This is what life is all about." It sure is. I'll get back on the bandwagon once my feet are back on the ground.
And for your viewing enjoyment:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heeTNhUnC3U&feature=player_embedded#at=25
So what comes with victory? Absolution! That's right - every piece of piece of cake, every bite of pasta, every second trip to the buffet line was not only worth it, but necessary. I have my extra pasta pounds to thank for making my skirt too tight and consequently making me stand up straighter with my stomach sucked in so that I didn't split the skirt. Who knows? Maybe if I were slightly more slouched I wouldn't have made it as far ...
In the spirit of blindly ignoring the purpose for this "healthier living" blog, I will now brag about all the delicious food I overindulged in. The never-ending pasta service at Becco (Manhattan, theater district) included mushroom and sage ravioli, tomato and basil spaghetti, and orecchiette with bacon and swiss chard - as always, it was all heavenly. And, as always, I ate more than any reasonable woman should. Another highlight was the grilled duck salad at Bar Tabac on Smith St. in Brooklyn - earthy duck, peppery arugula, bacon, walnuts and a grape dressing made for a perfect lunch on a cold and rainy day. Also on Smith St. was Yoshi sushi - I had one of the best rolls I've ever tasted - it was spicy tuna and avocado, but instead of seaweed as a wrapper they used shaved cucumber - the cool, crunchy cucumber and creamy avocado contrasting the spicy tuna was just perfect. And of course, there was the food at Brooklyn Law School for the competition - let me tell you, these people know how to entertain - everything from the daily buffets to the over-the-top final banquet (the mac and cheese was to die for). It was all wonderful.
But despite the expansion of my waste line over the course of the weekend, I did manage to make it to the hotel gym every morning of the competition. And by make it to the gym I mean to pass through it to get to the whirlpool. Okay, I did actually do some light yoga and walking, but come on, who can turn down a whirlpool?!?!? And for reals - I did LOTS of walking. The last day I walked from Brooklyn to the East Village. And then I ate Pierogies in cheese sauce in the East Village. But the important thing is that I walked there.
But of course, the meal I was looking forward to most was Mom's home cooking on the last night of the trip. Mom and Dad had the teammates and I out to Long Island for a victory dinner with my sister and her boyfriend. Wine way too nice for the occasion was brought out, and we ate stromboli, cheese, lasagna, Italian salad, meatballs, and homemade zeppoles until we were fit to burst. We drank liquid gold dessert wine, moved to the living room, and watched the Top Chef finale. We watched hysterical YouTube videos and cracked up over the Bronz Zoo cobra's tweets and the AccuWeatherman's threats to lay the hammer of snow on the cobra. My brother left work early so he could stop by for a surprise hello. It was perfect. The perfect ending to a perfect weekend of hard work, satisfaction, good friends, good food, and fun. As my dad says, "This is what life is all about." It sure is. I'll get back on the bandwagon once my feet are back on the ground.
And for your viewing enjoyment:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heeTNhUnC3U&feature=player_embedded#at=25
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