This week’s InfoNews column is live and it’s all about fad diseases and why the real problem is that we refuse to attend church where they won’t allow you to bring your own Starbucks in. JK. It’s not about that at all, I just mention it once or twice. It’s about why we’re creating excuses for our unhealthy lifestyles. You can read it HERE.
This week’s InfoNews column is up and it talks about seeing yourself naked in a whole new light. It also talks about Lena Dunham and what she has to do with this. You can read it HERE.
Image by Autumn de Wilde
You guys know how I’ve been training really hard to run that 10km I told you about right?
Well, I just thought it would be nice to tell you I lived. I mean, I can’t walk and I made a lot of noises that probably pertain more to childbirth than a jog around the block on a spring day, but that’s completely beside the point. I made it to the finish line.
And I was so proud of myself. Which is sick, really, considering I’m such an advocate for the anti-exercise lifestyle. I just couldn’t help it. I crossed the finish line and people were cheering and the lady announced my name and it was a wonderful moment for a few seconds.
I was like “Holy shit, I can eat sooooo many egg McMuffins now!” And I even told myself in my head that I would train for the half marathon taking place in the fall. For a split second, I was an Olympic athlete and it was awesome.
I ran 10km in an hour. It’s not ideal, but seeing as what I normally accomplish in an hour is like … re-pinning 60 photos of skinny people, I thought it was great. I thought to myself “You know, I might be able to get into this.”
And then I heard her.
“Andria Parker, completing a 5km!”
Uh, what? No. No, No, No, No, No I did not.
Bitch, are you kidding me? You just told the entirety of the peanut-sized small town I live in that I took ONE HOUR AND TWO MINUTES to run a fucking 5km. That’s not cool. I mean, that’s how long it should have taken me to run a 5k, considering my only regular work out is weird solo dance parties and canoodling, but I was proud of myself for a split second and you ruined it.
I was upset. Deflated. My runner’s high had become a hangover.
“I thought you told me you wanted to run the 5km,” The Reporter said when I told him about the mishap, “That’s the box I checked, that’s why your number was a different color!”
“No,” I whined, “I just said I should have signed up for the 5km because I’m lazy.”
“Oh,” he responded. “Oh well.”
“When you print this in the newspaper tomorrow can you fix it?” I asked, “maybe make me first place or something?” I mean what’s even the point of dating a journalist if he can’t manage my publicity?
“I don’t think that’s my call,” he said.
I ate an egg mcmuffin and a breakfast burrito and an entire bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken that day.
And then, yeah, today I worked out. Because now I have something to prove.
xo & yw
I don’t work out. You know this based on my posts like THIS. & because I just wrote a column defending the muffin top.
Yes, I am fully aware of how Mean Girls that makes me sound. I’m also aware of my heart’s health (or non-health?), and my non-six pack. It’s just that I really hate it — it’s boring and you can’t do it in heels. Those are pretty much the only two conditions I have for my life. If it’s boring and I can’t do it in heels, I’m out.
I run sometimes. Mostly as an excuse to wear Lulu lemons and listen to Eddie Money really loud on repeat.
And yeah, you know me, lots of times I go through these fit-spurts where I’m all “YEAH, GREEN JUICE AND SQUATS MOTHER FUCKER!” but that only lasts until someone puts a wheel of Brie in front of me and that person is usually me and it’s usually only one day after I’ve decided to try and qualify for the Boston Marathon.
So, a month ago when I told a friend I’d run this hometown 10k on the 27th of April, I was obviously on Day Zero of a fit-spurt. Since then, I’ve been eating a lot of brie and worrying about how I’m going to not die when the 27th rolls around.
This morning, in a moment of delusion, I decided to test the waters. The last time I ran 10k was this time last year — since then I’ve probably jogged 12 times.
(What’s that? Once a month? That’s pretty good, right?!)
Anyway, I went for a run. And you know what? I ran 6 clicks like it wasn’t no thang.
WTF, right? I wasn’t even panting. I was just all “IF I COULD WALK ON WATER, IF I COULD FIND SOME WAAAAY TO PROOOOVE …“
It was bizarre. Until I put two and two together and realized I actually have been exercising this entire time, I just didn’t look at it that way.
You see, I am a vigorous living-room-dance-party haver. Especially when I have other things I should be doing. & I don’t mean I have dance parties like … romantic comedy cute, either. I mean go all out flailing and stuff to “Bette Davis Eyes.” My heart rate gets UP.
I made a GIF to prove it. (Yes, obviously I’m singing into an empty bottle of wine.)
I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . all you need to do to get in shape is a couple hundred hair flips to some really hardcore 80’s songs. And I didn’t want to keep that information to myself.
Suns out, guns out amiright?!
Kisses, Hugs & You’re Welcome (xo & yw)