Not that kind of cheater.
I recently signed up for a fitness boot camp and because I enjoyed it so much (I lost something like 4 inches), I dragged my boyfriend into joining a second, five week session with me. Turns out he doesn’t love all the running, push ups, lunges, and puking sensations that go along with it. I can’t say I blame him, it’s not for everyone.
Tonight was the last night of this camp and as we were driving away he let it be known that he cheated in the competition they made us do. You see, the class was split up into teams and instructed to run all over the city to find the names of particular stores, restaurants, etc. Well my team did just that, but he, instead, found a map and located the names that way.
So yeah, he’s a cheater. A winning cheater. But I love him anyway.
This morning I walked into my local coffee shop only to find there was no skim milk available to doctor up my drip coffee. Now some people may be irritated by this, but I was delighted.
I normally choose to use skim milk as my creamer to save on the calories, but secretly I prefer the fattening milk. So this morning when I had no choice but to use half and half, I jumped for joy on the inside, of course.
The reason I bring this up is because the term “I feel fat” has recently been redefined for me. I’m not fat. Not even close. But sometimes we all feel a little blubby and lately I’ve been feeling extraordinarily blubby and so after putting anything in my mouth, I instantly start counting calories.
But this morning was a little different. After counting for awhile I realized something very important that I thought might be worth sharing. Sometimes a good cup of coffee in the morning is worth an ounce of blub.
Words to live by.
OK. So my friend Julie didn’t actually rupture her cervix, but she had a LEEP procedure earlier that week and suffered serious cramping and bleeding after riding the bike.
Women who have abnormal pap smears as a result of the sexually-transmitted human papillomavirus (HPV) often times have a LEEP procedure, which essentially removes cancerous or pre-cancerous cells from the cervix. Turns out you should avoid some types of exercise for awhile until your cervix has had time to heal. And, no sex or tampons.
After hearing Julie’s scary story I’ve been online trying to learn more about HPV, the LEEP procedure itself, and what to do afterwards. There is a lot to learn and I think all of us should educate ourselves, so ask your doctor and do research.
As for some of the facts, get this: 20 million people are infected with HPV and by age 50, 80 percent of women will have the infection.
Fortunately for Julie she has had frequent enough treatment that she will most likely avoid cancer, however, for the last three years she’s had more doctors and nurses up her hoo-ha than she’d like to think about. And it’s not over. She has what’s called a colposcopy scheduled every three months for the next year.
Most of us have heard about HPV because of the vaccine Gardasil that is advertised on TV and online, but it seems to me that what’s really important is to have regular pap smears. Compared to the colposcopy, the LEEP and all the rest, a pap is walk in the park.
Ladies, there’s no reason not to get in there and spread em’.
One of my favorite songs from a few years ago is “Dumbo Sun” by Tracy Bonham. The line: “There was a man in a yellow thong, he was doin’ his yoga and doin’ it wrong” always struck me as funny. It was especially funny because I wondered what in the world would inspire that line.
Well, now I know. Apparently doing yoga in slinky bottoms is not that uncommon.
I don’t know this man’s name, but I’ve come to call him Mr. Little Shorts and all I know about him is that he loves hot yoga and is always front and center in my yoga class. He starts practicing his yoga before class even begins, which only makes everyone giggle. Does he know?
If I happen to get there a little early before the doors to the studio open, Mr. Little Shorts is always outside waiting too. He waits in a t-shirt and his Speedo-type shorts making eyes with all the girls and occasionally mustering the courage to talk to one of us. I’ve learned that if he approaches me I should never let the conversation go longer than a minute or two because at that point he will ask me out for a drink. He’s asked me three separate times.
Maybe I’m not being fair. It’s true that I don’t understand extraordinarily tight britches to begin with. It’s a Mediterranean style choice and by the looks of him he’s very Mediterranean (holy hair ball!), so I shouldn’t judge. But seriously, to wear tight bottoms at yoga with all the bending backward and forward, moving your rear up and down, and spreading your legs apart and so on it’s so uncouth!
