Liberated or Lazy?

I've always considered myself a liberated girl, duckin' and shunnin' domesticity whenever it reared its ugly head. But lately as the list of things I don't want to do gets longer and longer, I've started to wonder if the real issue is that I'm just really lazy. Check out the list and feel free to judge (me) for yourself:

1. Cooking
Like my mother, I hate cooking and am always looking for an excuse not to do it. While my mother prefers pretending she doesn't know how to do anything (Mum: I don't know how to make the pizza! Me: Do you know how to read? 'Cause it's all on the back of the box), I prefer inviting myself over to other people's houses. I do have one specialty – eggs – but unfortunately it is usually a morning food, and I also hate mornings.

2. Cleaning
While I get a modicum of satisfaction by seeing the toilet bowl gleam from my efforts, I generally hate cleaning and hate even more that it is an unavoidable task (we used to pay my aunt to clean when I lived in Toronto, something that horrified many of my friends). At my parents' house, I used to leave the cleaning until Sunday night. I would start at 8:00 pm with the bathroom, and then at 9:00 I would clean the living room during the commercials of Desperate Housewives. At 10:00 I would vacuum. Now that I'm in Stratford, S and I have divided the house so I clean the bedroom and bathroom, he cleans the kitchen and living room. Unfortunately, anyone who lives with a man can understand the true horror of having to clean up someone else's hair from shaving. Not even horror, really, but more the injustice of it all.

3. Walking the dog
It's like having a child – they're really cute when they're cuddling with you, but when you have to give up your leisure time to actually take care of them in some way, it's like *sigh*.

4. Going to the bathroom
Sometimes I'm lying down, snuggled in my robe and a blanket, drinks/snacks/cigarettes aligned in front of me – the perfect relaxation set-up. Then my bladder starts calling. And I think, "God, how annoying. Who wants to get up and go pee?" I had a doctor who once asked me if I hold off going to the bathroom (not sure why – I was there to get my ears checked) and for some reason I was honest and said yes and then he gave me a big lecture about ruining my bladder. It's a lasting guilt trip that usually gets me up (at the next commercial break).

5. Shaving my legs

I'm one of those people who leaves it for so long that I live in fear of my pant leg accidentally riding up. Of course, when you leave it that long, it's all the more annoying to shave because what could be a 5-minute routine becomes a 20-minute ritual that takes a pack of razors. And razors aren't cheap.

6. Creaming my body
Since I'm always late, having to spend an extra 5 minutes that I don't have creaming my body just feels like one more of life's little annoyances. Because I'm black, ashy-ness is a very real concern in my life. But I just hate being naked and cold and trying to put the cream on the tips of my fingertips to reach that ubiquitous space in the middle of my back.

I could add other things – grocery shopping, doing laundry, refilling the water jug – but I think you get the point. I've decided that I need to be rich so I can pay to get all of this stuff done. Except for creaming my body, I guess. But perhaps with all the time saved from getting the other tasks done, that one won't seem so daunting.

 

Lazy and lovin' it,
sbg

My weight loss "plan"

I was just about to write a very long message back to Cari from Ditch Diets (see comments on "How I got to my suicide weight" - I'm hoping it isn't spam and I will charm her into being a regular reader). My answer is long enough to be a post of its own and short enough to be written on my lunch so here it is.

The truth is Cari, I'm a bit of a superplanner. I come up with new life plans all the time. I love making plans. I'm just not so good at the execution.

But in answer to your question, every time I decide to lose weight I automatically start doing the South Beach Diet, because I did it once and it worked great. What I consistently fail to remember is that I don't know what lightning strike made me stick to it then, but it has never struck twice.

(sidebar: In case you're wondering, the one time that I stuck to South Beach was for an acquaintance's wedding where I was going to see a lot of people I hadn't seen in a long time. The motivation being that I didn't want them to talk about what a chub-a-roo I had become).

So back to the plan. Currently, I try to eat light breakfasts (yogurt with granola or eggs w/o bread) and light lunches (salad with chicken), try to only snack on fruit (a lot of people go apple-picking around here, so there's been a basket in the office for weeks), and try to work out 6 times a week (cardio x3, weight/strenth x3).

Note: Tere's been a lot more "trying" than "doing", so that's why I've lost a mere 9 pounds in 2 months.

The weight loss challenge at work is for money (every week you pay $1 for every pound you lose and $2 for every pound you gain) so I thought that would be really good motivation. Apparently it isn't as strong as what other people think of me. But I will be trying harder as the date approaches and I have less and less money. Being overweight and broke during the holidays is a recipe for you-know-what.

sbg

An amendment to "The McJinx"

I just thought of something - maybe blogging every day is a bad idea. I mean, they'll only get less interesting (especially since my life is so g-d boring). Plus, I should keep 'em wanting more, right? Like if you can have pad thai every day, not so exciting. But once a week, maybe twice? That's like the best week ever.

So my amendment is that the post should have been called "The McFavour".

mclove sbg

The "McJinx"

Right before the end of the day, McKinley mentioned how much I've been blogging. Though I was nothing but pleased by the comment at the time, I'm convinced that she put a hex on me, which I have named the McJinx. The McJinx has devestating effects, such as:

I have nothing to write.

I'm at a loss for words.

I'm blank.

This is a testament to how powerful the McJinx is. I always have something to say. Seriously, try getting a word in edgewise -- it's not easy. Ask everyone I know.

But I refuse to break my streak, so I will soldier on. I warn you, it won't be my best work so feel free to stop reading now. Speaking of streaks, S had a streak of playing Xbox every day for over 400 days. While all the sane, non-hermit people in the world realize that being home every day to play Xbox for over a year is not so much an accomplishment as it is really, really sad, S had a hard time accepting it (he comforted himself by blaming me - see "The Streak is Over" on his blog, www.achievementpopped.blogspot.com). The good news is that later he said he felt like breaking the streak set him free. The bad news is sometime after that he mentioned we should go camping. Apparently he wants to be free in the woods. I prefer the hermit version of him now.

This is just one of the many, many things S and I do not have in common, all of which have become increasingly clear since we moved here. Rather than list everything we don't share, I'll list what we do:

1. Rock Band
2. Granny Smith apples
3. Gordon Ramsey

That's enough, right?


Keep hope alive,
sbg

How I got to my suicide weight

In the true spirit of blazé teenagers, my friends and I established "suicide weights" when we were in high school -- as in, "i would kill myself if I ever got to this weight." Of course at that age, filled with high metabolism and self-esteem, this seemed like a safe statement because it was a good 30-40 pounds away. I think you know where this is going.

In September, my coworkers and I decided to have a weight-loss challenge at work. Using the office scale, we all weighed ourselves for our first official entry in the OMG Fat Ass competition. I really didn't know what to expect, since I renounced my scale some time ago (see February 20, 2007 entry). As it turns out, I have not only reached, but actually SURPASSED my suicide weight. Since the other participants were not interested in a murder-murder-suicide pact, I decided instead to analyze how this happened. After much reflection, I've figured out the exact culprints. And oh yeah, I'm naming names.

1. York University: +15 pounds
The much-dreaded freshman 15. What is it exactly? The cafeteria food? Endless cups of double cream/double sugar coffee? I can't pinpoint it, but I know this is where it began. Talk about the price for higher education. I will likely finish paying my studen loans before I lose that original 15 pounds.

2. Fuel Advertising: +10 pounds
My coworkers (and so-called friends) regulary encouraged me to finish their lunches after I finished my own. They revelled in how many I could finish. Given how undervalued I was at that job, I could only delight in their praise. Oprah would have a field day with this one.

3. Joel "One Love" Regular: +5 pounds
For a good 3 months, Joel, Linda and I adopted what I call the "Regular routine" -- five days a week, we would walk to Joel's apartment after work and drink a big bottle of $7 red wine. I'm pretty sure I gained at least five pounds during this period of my life, but I can't be sure since I was sooo drunk.

3. The Bean, a.k.a. Rina Bang: +5 pounds
Oh Rina, with your delightful conversation and irresistable company. Many a day was spent with you, a big plate of pad thai and fried tofu. That's right, I found a way to make tofu unhealthy (and delicious). While it definitely added to the predicament I'm in now, this one was definitely worth every pound (and pound and pound).

4. Burrito Boyz, butter chicken, Marble Slab, cheese croissants: +5 pounds
Due to availability, some are more to blame than others.


Sorry to call you all out like that, but I think we all have to take responsibility for what could have been the death of me. Wish me luck in my weight loss challenge -- the winner is deemed OMG Skinny Bitch.

9 pounds and counting,
sbg

A little insight into Stratvegas

Periodically, I like to search the web for job opportunities. Sometimes it's because I'm in a "Gonna leave it all behind and start anew" kinda mood; other times it's because I think, "If I work closeby I will never have to wake up 15 minutes early so I can scrape off my car in the morning". So as I was looking around today, I could think of no better audience for what I found than my blog readers, who are well aware of my amazing (insert John McCain air quotes) job karma. Here is a taste of the employment opportunities available in the city I now call home:

Hog farm worker

Pork Production Technician

Chicken Catcher

Wow... there's a whole world of new animals available to me now! I thought I would just have to write about cows for the rest of my life (working in the Dairy Capital and all), but no -- I have the opportunities to be among hogs and chickens too. Please don't be jealous, dear readers. You "big city" types can go to the park, eat a hot dog, and just wait for the pigeons to come to you.


e-i-e-i-o,
sbg

A Halloween Tale

I have always loved the idea of dressing up for Halloween. What I realized this year is that getting a good costume requires money, of which I have very little. In the past, I have one for low-budget costumes like my domino outfit:


But this year, I was going out in real public among grown-up, gainfully-employed people who I knew would spare no expense on their costumes. So I had to figure out how to get a costume on my limited budget. I searched the internet and settled on Storm from X-men (with no regard to the slightly lofty ambition of dressing up as the most beautiful woman in the world). I got a white wig from Value Village and a coworker offered to lend me a cape. I figured I would wear a black top and black pants and make an X for my belt out of the leftover felt from last year's domino costume. Done and done. Total cost: $6.99 (for the wig).

Fast forward to the night of October 30. I'm trying on the costume and I look like a hot mess. Never mind the fact that I'm not Halle Berry... I have a wig that is called "Surfer Boy" and a cape that could fit 3 people. I look like an Emo magician.

So it's Halloween morning and I'm frantically running around trying to get something (with about a million other people... what's their excuse for waiting until the last minute?). Every decent costume in the costume store is 90+ dollars -- I don't think so. I leave the store defeated and then... a stroke of genius... I have a white wig and I'm a black woman. That can only mean one thing -- Mary J Blige, bitches.

So I bought a few accessories, grabbed my faux fur jacket from about 10 years ago and wore a my black shirt, jeans and pointy boots. I was a little concerned that no one would understand my costume and I would have to answer questions about it all night, but I was pleasantly suprised that MJB is known even is waspy London. So the moral of my Halloween Tale is that with a little creativity, a recognizable Halloween costume can be achieved on a budget. It may be a little ghetto, but hey -- it's Mary J.


Total cost:
Wig: $6.99
Sunglasses: $5.00
Earrings: $5.00


love sbg