Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

Health

The No Candy Bowl & Office Goodies Pledge

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Candy. Donuts. Pastries.

They have been non-stop in my office since October.

I turned around the other day and watched someone open ANOTHER bag of candy and put it in several bowls. These bags have to be from the store that gave birth to Costco. They are HUGE. When will the madness end?

Now, I say. NOW.

I’m taking the pledge not to eat from the bowl of candy garbage or yummy holiday goodies in the communal area in my office for the rest of the month.

Would you care to join me?

Listen, I realize everything in moderation is key. I’ll have a piece of candy some days, and other days one piece will turn into two or three.  And even 2-3 pieces isn’t bad…but guess what, they add up!

No, one candy won’t make me fat, but at the same time, one apple won’t make me healthy. I want to make better choices and having my hand in the candy bowl “just for 2 months” isn’t a great choice.

Side note: Did you know the average American gains 6 pounds over the holidays?!

That’s half my cat! (Okay…probably more like less than a third…)

"Which ornament shall I knock off this fucking tree next?"
“Which ornament shall I knock off this fucking tree next?”

 

In my humble opinion those 1, 2 or 3 pieces aren’t worth it.

I’d rather spend it on salty fries.

The No Candy Bowl & Office Goodies Pledge

So, I, Princess Caroline Peterson, vow not to eat anything from the office

holiday candy/deliciousness/sugar-filled bowl

and yummy holiday goodies in the communal area

for the rest of the month.

Want to join me? We can share in our misery here. It’s less than one month, people!

Copy and paste this in the comments to join in:

 

I, _____________, vow not to eat anything from the office

holiday candy/deliciousness/sugar-filled bowl

and yummy holiday goodies in the communal area

for the rest of the month.

 Let’s do this.

Sports Bra Review for Big Boobs

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You know those skimpy camisoles with built-in bras?

Ha!

How about strapless bras?

Ha!

Going bra-less?

Ha! Better not be next to me if I turn around too quickly, you could be knocked out.

Over the years, I guess I’ve learned to love my big boobs and the hassle that comes with them. They were one giant embarrassment (well, two…) in middle school and high school. I swear, I just woke up one morning and immediately hopped from a training bra to a wired C-cup. In middle school! And they just kept growing. But whatever, I’m rocking them now. I mean, half my schtick is about big boobs, so the world would be a totally less fun place without them.

The path to a perfect sports bra:

The one area that I did struggle with was in the sports bra department. I look back at some of the flimsy, cotton sports bras I wore and cringe for my poor boobies and the beating they took. I totally understand why some ladies wear TWO sports bras, nothing just seemed supportive enough.

I once competed in a triathlon and noticed some girls just ran and biked in their swim suit from the swimming portion. Ha! Hahaha. I remember explaining to the associate at Macy’s that I needed a sports bra that I could wear under my wet suit, that would still function for the biking and running portion of the triathlon.

Poor thing had no idea what to do with my triathlon titties.

About 7 years ago, I discovered the Enell Sports Bra. I don’t know if it was because my big breasted sister, Oprah, endorsed it or what, but once I wore an Enell, I never went back. And no, I’m not being paid to endorse Enell. I just want to share the love because I understand the big-boobed struggle.

enell sports bra

Wearing it at first was weird because it was so supportive. I wasn’t used to it. Your breasts are literally propped up to a position they probably haven’t seen since your teenage years. Not only are they held up, they are now in a boob compartment that is flexible enough to let you breathe, but firm enough to make sure those puppies don’t move.

Best part? No uni-boob!

enell3

It’s not exceptionally pretty. But honestly, I’m not the gal who prances into a gym with just my sports bra on, so I really don’t care. The seam that goes across the front can often be seen if you’re only wearing a thin tank top, but again, I really don’t care and if it’s supporting my girls, I’m cool with it. I lovingly joke that it’s my bullet proof vest because you put it on like a vest and then hook it together on the front. Once “hooked in” your lady twins are standing up so tall that you’re basically a bonafide Fembot.

fem

I love it!

I also have the new Enell Lite that I wear around the house or during yoga. It’s supportive enough for lighter exercise.

They have a different sizing system, that you can explore more on their site. Basically, be honest with your measurements and you’ll fall into a size 00-8. I wear a size 3 with Enell. To give you an idea, depending on the brand, I can vary between a 34 or 36 FF or G cup. When I complain about the hard time I have finding a regular bra because of my cup size, the hubster reminds me that FF and G stands for Freakin’ Fantastic and Gorgeous. He’s pretty swell.

For years, I could only order Enell through their website, but now you can find them pretty much anywhere. Woohoo! I even saw them at my local running store this past weekend when I went to get new running shoes for my half-marathon coming up.

Sure, they are probably more expensive than the flimsy sports bras. But guess what? So are breast lifts! You don’t want to need that surgery because you saved a few bucks on a cheaper sports bra. It’s an exaggeration, sure, but you get my point. I own 4 and it’s well worth the investment.

I honestly can’t imagine running now without it on. Truth be told, it has made a world of difference in any athletic activity I participate in and looking back, that’s a lot. From triathlons, to 5Ks to 10Ks to half-marthons, gym sessions and soccer games thrown in between. My boobs are happy to have an Enell Sports Bra.

Half Marathon photo bombing husband
Half Marathon photo bombing husband

Go make your boobs happy and get one. Then tell me how much you love me for telling you about it.

You’re welcome, big-boobed gals. You’re welcome.

 

Lay Off Me I’m Starving

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In training for my upcoming half marathon, I’ve increased my running a lot over the course of this past month. Even brought in my fastest pace for the 4-6 mile range.

Don’t worry, kids. It’s still moderately slow. I’m not breaking any land-speed records here. I’m usually just a bit faster than my elderly neighbors who use walkers. Usually.

But guess what, I still freakin’ running! I’m not too concerned with opinions about my slow speeds.

All that said, with the increased mileage and pace, my appetite is ravenous.

layoffme

I want to eat allllllllllllthefoods.

burrito

When coworkers ask me how training is going, I think they’re surprised I have an 8 mile run next weekend. Why? Because I usually can’t even answer since I’m too busy stuffing my face.

mrbean

This happened last year when I was training, so it’s really no surprise. But it’s sort of counterproductive to weight loss after a 6.5 mile run to be shoveling Halloween candy in my mouth like I have an army of children to protect from their teeth rotting, so I take one for the team and eat some Reese’s peanut butter cups for the kids and maybe some Nerds for the kids and maybe some Hershey kisses…for the kids. You know, for the kids.

nocake

I digress…

I really need your help here.

What type of foods would you suggest for this increase in appetite? I’m looking for quick, filling snacks!

I know proteins over carbs, but let’s be honest you guys, carbs aren’t da debil and some of you go overboard with PROTEIN IN ALLLLLLL THE THINGS ALLLLL THE TIME.

arnold

I also will not be doing any chemical-filled bullshit. You hear me?  The only protein powder shake/drink I use is a plant based protein and I lover it.

IMG_6732
Vega One 4 Eva

Yes, lover it.

So help a sista’ out. What type of foods would you suggest? Maybe I haven’t thought of some options that you guys would have great suggest…OMG IS THAT HUMMUS?!

starving

A Balancing Weekend

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The hubster is all about learning how to save lives and take care of patients. Sometimes, that makes our alone time few and far between. For instance, I probably won’t be with him on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Saving lives and taking care of patients won’t stop for the holidays, you know?

Did I mention he’s in his 3rd year of medical school? Yeah. He’s not a doctor yet and we’re figuring out this fine balance of studying so hard that he doesn’t sleep for over 2 days and, you know, saying more than hello and goodbye to each other.

We’re actually pretty darn good at the balance.

We take the time when we need it. Sometimes that time has to wait until exams are over and sometimes it needs to happen. right. freaking. now. because. I. want. to. talk. to. you. I’ve often said that there isn’t room for both of us to be stressed out because med school is pretty mother-effing stressful enough. That’s accurate sometimes, other times it just feels like that.

When people are hard on him for not having time for them, I sort of want to say, “Take a number!”

He’s doing really well in his rotations this year and putting all the studying to good use on actual real-life situations. It’s nice to hear his stories about how his input was valued (or not valued) with patients because he sees that what he’s worked so hard for, for the last eleventy billion years, is panning out.

I’m sure I can go into it more about how being a med school widow wife is one of the toughest things I’ve ever willingly done…and I actually love my alone time more than most people! Perhaps I will write about it more. My husband is loving and flexible and that makes it a whole-heck-of-a-lot easier during this time period.  But needless to say, it requires work to schedule time and not come across as a nag (can you PLEASE ask me on a date!) and also be cognizant of school needs.

So, with that said, we left for the weekend and headed to the in-laws glorious place on Marco Island.

It started off very much like most of our trips…with some unexpected, fun entertainment! Like, we drove an hour and a half to the other side of the state and both asked who brought the key to get in. Yup. Neither of us. So another trip almost back to Ft. Lauderdale (big thanks for the Father-in-Law and building manager who rounded up another key for us) and we finally got in. We settled in and started enjoying the smell of the Gulf, gazing at the stars and also watching a pool-house have a minor explosion. No, I’m not making that up. Again, we travel to entertain everyone else.

But after those minor hiccups, we enjoyed a weekend full of:

“I love you.” 

IMG_3788

“I’m really having a good time.”

IMG_3614

“I may actually like the beach, but don’t quote me on it.”

IMG_3733

“I can’t get over this sunset. I’m so glad we’re here together.”

IMG_3770

“Pass the wine.”

IMG_6328

 

It was much needed, maybe more so than we realized.

FullSizeRender (1)

 

How do you balance and reconnect? PG answers will do just fine, you naughty people. .thankyouverymuch.

How Not to Train for a Half-Marathon

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Did I mention I’m running a half-marathon again?

No?

Oh yeah. That’s because I forgot I signed up for it.

But I’m doing it right this time.

In my post-2014-Fort Lauderdale-Half-Marathon adrenalin and endorphin haze this past February, I decided to sign up for the 2015 A1A Fort Lauderdale Half-Marathon.

They were offering a great deal for 2014 finishers if you signed up for the 2015 half-marathon then. I’m a sucker for a great deal and thought it would continue my motivation to keep running.

I’m still running.

Just not as far and as hard as I did when I trained for my first Half.

So, I need to get my boo-tay in gear. Starting right meow.

Last time I trained, I left about 3 months. I say “left” because that’s how much time I had once I decided to sign up. Ha! If you’re not a runner, you need to give yourself more time than that. Hence, the name of this post.

Also, I use the term “runner” more loosely than some purists. I’m not a fast runner. Very often, I’m not consistent with my pace. I don’t “look” like a runner. But, I’m still a freakin’ runner. No, I’ll probably never run 8 minute miles. For me, running is about the experience. What I feel after a damn good run is immeasurable and can’t be diminished because I don’t have a fast pace. And the people who judge other runners for that can suck it.

They probably are the same a-holes who have a 16 ingredient coffee at Starbucks. And for THAT, I judge YOU, sir!

half-marathon

So, back to the plan, Stan.

Here’s what it basically looks like. I use a mix of what works for me and also what the incomparable Jeff Galloway (read: super awesome freakin’ runner) has put together. He also uses the run-walk ratio that’s worked well for me.

Half-Marathon Training

30 minute run: 2x a week
1 long run: 1x a week (with increasing mileage starting @ 3 miles)
Strength training: 2x a week
Yoga: as needed

I’ve given myself more time than the usual 20 weeks training because…life happens. Sometimes you get sick or in my case, strain your IT band. That may be because I only trained for 3 months… Often, I didn’t get the required 3 runs in per week. Which is not helpful! I’m looking forward to not squeezing in my training this time around. It’s like I’m making an adult decision or something.

half-marathon

I’m going to do a long-ish run this weekend and then officially start in the next 2 weeks.

I will be mixing in strength training this time around. I’ve read reports that strength training doesn’t help with your half-marathon training per say, but I had IT band issues just weeks before my half-marathon last time and I want to avoid that at all costs this time.

That means doing weights, yoga and stretching like a mofo after each run, rolling that mofo after each run and icing that mfer down after each run.

Yeah, buddy!

What do you think? Any advice for me this time ’round?

La Gordita

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That’s what I got called while I was running to catch a cab in Barcelona.

(My friend says they could have been saying it to her, too. But it’s doubtful.)

It was my first night on this trip (which I shall write about soon). We were having a wonderful time in Barcelona when we realized after 45 minutes of trying to get a cab back to our hotel that ALL of them were occupied. Calling cab companies became fruitless because our broken Spanish didn’t help. We walked for blocks trying different roads. We looked at bus routes. We finally gave up for a bit and settled on sharing a cider. As any normal person should do in times of despair.

la gordita
Dinner that night. Prior to needing a cab.

We explained our situation to the waiters and they were incredibly nice. They even called cab companies for us and it looked hopeful…until they explained there was a medical convention in town with 30,000 doctors. Good for my two single gal-pals, not so good for finding a cab. He told us walking was too far as our hotel was in a residential area (Barcelona is big, by the way) and the metro was closed. So, just as we were getting directions on which busses to take back, our waiter spotted an OPEN cab!

He went running without saying a word.

My friend saw what he was doing and sprinted after him. I grabbed our stuff and my other girlfriend went to pay the tab.

I took off huffing, throwing my camera in my bag mid-run.

I passed a table outside of about 10 men, eating, drinking, enjoying the night.

That’s when I heard it.

“…la gordita…”

I knew it meant chubby or fat. I knew in the tone it was said, it wasn’t a term of endearment.

I remember taking one more step in my run, asking myself, “How the HELL are you going to respond to this? Ignore it? Try to spout off broken Spanish?”

You have to put this in context. I had flown and traveled over 21 hours that day. I was tired. I was bummed we couldn’t find a cab. I was pissed these a-holes thought I didn’t understand what they had called me. I felt an obligation to stand up for all “las gorditas.” No one looks good mid-sprint! Especially after 21 hours of travel. Regardless, it’s totally shitty to say to someone.

So I did what any hot-blooded American would do.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Turned around with the precision of  a soldier on her heels, ready to stomp to attention. Looked at all of them in their eyes. Raised both of my hands up in the air.

And gave them the glorious one-finger salute.

la gordita

There was an awkward pause. Then solid laughter and pointing from his friends at the jerk who said it.

I wasn’t laughing. It’s not funny.

But I definitely smirked as I turned around and walked back to our cab.

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