Baby Work Out

No matter what time of year, I find that I always have something to bitch about; human nature or human habit, I think I've developed quite the skill. Although this may be perceived as a negative attitude; like I tell my husband, my voiced opinions are actually a critical analysis of all the annoying shit in this world. My topic today? The Gym.

Now I guess you could say that I am an avid go-er of the gym, and after years of running, I realized that if I were ever going to be able to lift a watermelon, I would need to invest some time into those things called "muscles." At first I found the whole experience intimidating to say the least; all those fit people sweating, with the heart rate monitors on their arms, and water bottles filled with mysterious liquid that makes you good looking. But after a few weeks, I realized that these were people like myself; slightly crazy, trying to forget horrible life mistakes, and understanding that last night's indulgence of a large oreo blizzard would require at least 2 hours of their time on weights and cardio. After spending a few years at the gym I have immigrated my thoughts from idolizing these jacked up juice heads to absolutely despising them. After watching some "dude" stroke his muscles in the mirror at the gym today, I came to the conclusion that I could not harbour these feelings any more. Here are my top complaints:

1. Grunting: Now when I hear grunting I expect to either be; watching people do physical labor on a farm, playing with pigs, or experiencing child birth. NONE of these happen to take place at a gym; therefor, anyone grunting at the gym can fully expect to experience my "stink eye". I no longer have any restraint and immediately contort my face to make it unmistakable to you that your behavior is not only inappropriate, but also warranted of my general dislike for you and your noises. Get it together.

2. Women who look like men/or who don't look like women: I'm sorry, I can appreciate a beautifully sculpted female body, but when it begins to look like something from the "Aliens" Movie, something ain't right. When you have to get fake titties as a result of over-working your chest, there is an apparent issue. These women you can guarantee are shitting pure bricks. There is not an ounce of fat on them, let alone any recognizable feature that distinguishes them from the male race. I'm sure if penises could be acquired at the gym, they would flock to that machine like a pig  (grunting) on shit. Christ. At first I thought I was jealous, but after thinking about it I'm down right disturbed that the physical attributes that make us female are completely disregarded.....and for what? I don't get it.

3. Cardio Machines: Number one: Calorie counting. Now thankfully, I understand how overestimated these so-called calorie counters are; but for the average person, they are a goddamn facade of what you're actually achieving; they fail to factor in body mass, muscle mass, etc. Just like self-help books (another blog issue). Honey I'm sorry, but 45 minutes on the treadmill isn't as awesome as it appeared to be.
Number two: "Enjoy your workout;" I don't know about you, but it takes everything in me to not lose my shit on the cheerful little message that appears after inputting you weight and time limit into a cardio machine before starting; and not to mention, what is probably going to be, an unenjoyable experience. "Enjoy your workout" flashes across in horrible text before, what you have deemed to be, the workout that will kill you. NO, I will not enjoy this, and how fucking cynical of you machine to even assume that this process of health will be in the least pleasurable. You know what I will goddamn enjoy? The three glasses of wine I'll be having after this self-determined death sentence.

I digress.

I Want To Live In A Wigwam

Well I hope everyone made it through January without the typical, and often media fueled, “Christmas withdrawals.” I find it funny sometimes how there is always an explanation for something, we find some way to pigeon hole feelings and emotions into something that we can all understand. “Oh, that person is depressed;” which generally means that we have some stereotypical assumption of what they may be going through…..and how to fix it. Maybe that person just doesn't give a shit? Reasons aside, “we” appear to not let people be, instead we need to fit them into some mold of understanding that makes it easier, for one, to get on with our own lives; and two, so that we can feel good that our certain circumstances aren't as shitty as theirs. You know, sometimes I just want to do this:

So after sorting Tupperware I began thinking of what small milestone I might accomplish this year; although I'm completely against resolutions, I am 100% for supporting goals - they are the only thing keeping me from eating frozen cookie dough and spending the next day in last year's Christmas pajamas and complaining that I'm breaking out in a dairy-related body hive. With that being said, I think some goals are inconceivable; such as my goal to marry Elton John at the age of 12. Moving on. I'm going to go a little off track here, mostly because this is my own goddamn blog and I can do whatever the hell I want; I feel that Cat Stevens is the reason why I have unrealistic goals of what my future might entail. I remember sitting upstairs in my attic room as a teenager and playing his records on my deceased granddad`s record player; I will share a few lyrics from his song, I want to live in a wigwam, which pretty much explains all of my child-teenage dreams:

I'd like to live in a wigwamYes, I'd like to live in a wigwamI'd like to live in a wigwamAnd dance round the totem pole

I'd like to live in an iglooYes, I'd like to live in an iglooI'd like to live in an iglooAnd fish from an ice hole

Oh, I'd like to ride on a caravanI'd like to take a ride on a caravanYes, I'd like to ride on a caravanAnd sing with the gypsies

I'd like to live on a communeYes, I'd like to live on a communeI'd like to live on a communeAnd people can call me a hippie

I don't want to live in a palaceNo, I don't want to live in no palaceOh, I don't want to live in no palaceThere's too many empty rooms

I don't want to live in the barracksDon't want to live in the barracksOh, I don't want to live in the barracksAnd wake up to the bugle tune

I'd just like to live in a tree hutYes, I'd like to live on the tree hutYes, I'd like to live on a tree hutAnd listen to the sound of the birds

And I don't want to live in a jail houseDon't wanna bide my time in no jail houseNo, I don't want to live in no jail houseAnd be fed bread through the bars

I must digress that living in a palace, igloo, or wigwam would be awesome, I would in no way sign up to live in barracks or any sort of jailhouse. For one, I would probably severely end the life of the bugle player, and secondly, I don't eat a lot of bread, and when I do, I like it toasted with jam; and a side of eggs. I really feel like I have reduced my living needs substantially in the past year, mostly because living just "slightly" above the poverty line is quite humbling and awakening. So back to goals.....

As some of you might know, I was a previous smoker in earlier times, since then, and thanks to the government, I was able to quit. Also thanks to "anti-smoking" programs I am no longer smoking but am now addicted to nicotine gum. Effing con artists is what they are. To be honest, I quite enjoyed smoking; it was the routine to "cover up" the smoking afterwards that exhausted me to the point of quitting; finding out the government would pay for it peaked my Scottish blood even more. There's nothing quite like free.

Now since then, I have been chewing my weight in nicotine gum; I have finally gotten to the point of realizing that this is not a life-long sustainable thing. So, like any unknowing citizen, I went online for the most ACCURATE and INFORMATIONAL (please detect the sarcasm in my voice) way of kicking this habit. After seconds of searching, I came across the official site of CHAMPIX. Now, we all know the detrimental health consequences of smoking, short and long term, but please pay attention to the warnings given by this product:

• changes in behaviour
• changes in mood
• depression
• thinking about harming self or others
• abdominal pain
• appetite changes
• changes in taste
• constipation
• dizziness
• drowsiness
• dry mouth
• flatulence (passing gas)
• gingivitis
• headache
• heartburn
• nausea
• rash
• sleep disturbance (difficulty sleeping or abnormal dreams)
• unusual tiredness or weakness
• vomiting

- worsening cardiovascular-related symptoms, such as new or worsening chest pain, new or worse pain in legs when walking, shortness of breath, or trouble breathing

I'm sorry, I was just looking for a way to enable me to fully give up nicotine, NOT buy a ticket straight to HELL. Shit, I get three quarters of these symptoms by sitting on the couch on a Tuesday night, let alone cognitively and full-heartily signing up for it!Are we talking about the better of two evils here or what? You know, I don't really see the benefit between wanting to harm others while experiencing drowsiness, heartburn, nausea, weakness, and vomiting - not to mention trying not to shit yourself while you're depressed and hungry; compared to inhaling something full of tar and chemicals - no one getting hurt and you've still got your shit together.

Now obviously I know that not all symptoms would be experienced, but knowing my luck, I'd be playing tupperware origami shit-capades upon consumption.

I'll take my chances with the gum thank-you very much.

New Year, New You??

Well the day has come (and gone); you know the day that ends every single year? Maybe it was even your birthday or perhaps you celebrated the birth of a child, or maybe, just maybe, you just got totally shit faced and forgot your own name and where your pants were? Regardless, a new year has begun and what a better time to set yourself up for failure and upset than creating some bullshit list of how you've failed in the past year as a human being and how you're "going to do better" this year. Yes, I'm going to get my lucky pen out (because using a pen means it's permanent), reach way back into the cupboard from hell to find the note pad that last year's resolutions were written on, and bullshit my way into convincing myself that 2013 will be the year that I will get my shit together. Christ, looking back upon the year, I'm goddamn thankful that I wasn't knocked up and that I didn't contract some deadly airborne disease, now those are accomplishments if you ask me. I'd also like to give myself a well-deserved pat on the back for being such a goddamn fantastic person, not to mention offering a solid handshake to the amazing people in my life that put up with my incessant banter and what may be perceived, at times, as genuine "asshole-ness." All that aside I truly think that 2013 is going to be a great year, not because I know this, but because I bloody well hope it will be. Don't get me wrong, 2012 had some amazing and life changing events, but I'm a firm believer in if you're not moving up and on, there where the hell are you going???

I have a lot to look forward to in 2013; my niece turns one!! My sister will be having the first McCaffery-Taylor grandchild, I will be celebrating my first year of marriage, and, if the stars align, I will be graduating! Well the first three things are true regardless; I can see myself in 15 years celebrating my long awaited school graduation at a Johnny Reid concert flinging my tummy tuck panties on stage and trying not to wet myself. Christ.

I really wanted to boycott the whole "New Years Resolution" thing this year, and as mentioned previously, I think it is an efficient way to self-sabotage any hopes of accomplishing anything positive in the up and coming months. Is a list of goals going to drag my ass to the gym? Is a piece of paper with promises going to stop me from eating my own weight in chocolate? Can it stop me from thinking ungodly things about 99% of the population? We put soo much effort, incentive, and energy into something that really is, when we break it down, nothing but words on a page. If you ask me, if that thing aint going to clean my floors, wipe my ass, or take out the garbage then it can get the hell out of my house. And why do we do this? Every year it is the same old thing, why not try and do something different everyday, or once a week? Why does a new year change any of this? It's like clean sheets, once you clean them, they're just going to get dirty again. - ok maybe I'm getting off topic a little on the sheets, but I know full well that the majority of people lie horrifically about the rate at which they wash their sheets (myself included).  Some like the filth, some don't, some lie about it even, but it's always coming back. I think what it comes down to is accepting who we are, tweaking the things that need a little attention (ask your family and loved ones for input, they're always good at telling you exactly how much of a dick you've been in the past year), and put your energy into where it is needed. Better yet, stand in front of the mirror and truly look at who you are, who you have become, and where you are going. Give YOURSELF a pat of the back and say thank-you for doing your best; then take two steps back, remove the spanx and tummy tucker underwear, and get your ass to the gym - You and the rest of your city's population will be fighting for the treadmill and you gotta get yo' ass in line.

 And hell, if it's any conciliation, the world still justifies paying athletes millions of dollars while the rest of the population still struggles with poverty, homelessness, and hunger......I think you can sit a few out.