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THE SKINNY BITCH AND THE SHADOW, PART II

4/30/2015

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Welcome to Mars, the planet where skinny bitches thrive.

First, a word about our stalwart examples of how-I-wish-to-be.  Both are extremely attractive with bubbly personalities.  Neither seems inclined toward melancholy or other issues that seem to haunt my tortured artist soul (Side note:  Perhaps there is something to those endorphins and exercise.  I always thought that was a scam perpetuated by the fitness industry).  They are both super passionate people.  One is a mother, one is not.  One is single, one is married.  One is blonde, one is brunette (not sure the relevance of that, except that I’m a redhead so maybe we should do hair product commercials together).  They are both younger by a good 10-15 years.  But, wait!  Fifty is the new forty, you say.  I fit right in!  Only ... doesn’t that means forty is the new thirty, so they are still pretty much younger by a decade, even in illusory math.  Damn.

Welcome to Mars!  I have two tours set up for your enjoyment.  Sit back and learn!

Tour One:  Super MILF

6:00 am:  I wake up and dive into my coffee pot.  I splurge by adding half and half and a dollop of whip cream, but I use Truvia instead of sugar, a recent addition to my regime. 

6:30:  I record Good Morning America to watch after I check my email and read a couple of the self-help articles from my inbox.  (Shadow here.  This is, of course, my neighbor, the one with the house chock-full of those books, all tastefully displayed--she’s kind of an interior deco freak--books on meditation and learning to love yourself and the power of positive thinking.  The fact that I actually get tired just reading the titles says a lot about my journey--but I do a lot of therapy, so giving myself props for that).

7:30:  I eat breakfast.  1 salmon burger with a cup of quinoa and kale, 1 cup of Greek nonfat vanilla yogurt with a teaspoon of psyllium husks.  (The Shadow notes it’s time to up the fiber).  I input breakfast into my Lose It! app, which charts protein, carbs, and fat.  Breakfast falls into the perfect balance of 40% protein, 30% carbs, and 30% fat (The Shadow thinks this app looks like something a rocket scientist might be comfortable reading.  The Shadow knows a lot about rocket scientists because she happens to be married to one.  And she’s also a bit of a technophobe).

8:00:  I do laundry and other work around the house, then lay out poolside for an hour.  (The Shadow knows she can pretty much do this year-round because it’s Southern California.  Don’t be hatin’ rest of the country).

12:00 pm:  I eat lunch:  a Honeycrisp apple and a protein drink, then go to a friend’s house to help her pick out curtains (That would be me, the Shadow, who is remodeling and is happy to take advantage of the fact that her neighbor is a genius with interior decoration.  And she’s free).

2:00:  I pick up my daughter from school and help her with applications for college (The Shadow notes that those college apps are a bitch and that she’s very happy to be past this particular stage of motherhood--and that one application from a certain Ivy League school misused the word “which” while asking applicants to write their essay, which made the Shadow feel kinda superior.  See how I did that?).

3:00:  I go to the gym.  I start with 5 minutes walking on the treadmill or warming up on the stairmaster, then do free weights and/or cables (The Shadow does not know what cables are, but they sound really intimidating), along with squats, jumping squats and lunges, for 30 minutes.  (The Shadow notes her neighbor has a really great ass).  I work out until I am red-faced and sweating, losing my breath and have an elevated heart rate (The Shadow wonders if she is describing an impending heart attack).  I finish with 10 minutes of stretching.

4:00:  I have a snack of 2 oz. of chicken, a 1/3 of a cup of black beans, and a slice of jalapeño yogurt cheese before running errands (The Shadow is happy that there is finally more food).

5:00: I go over to a neighbor's for wine, 8 oz (This is where The Shadow happily participates, plus she likes that her neighbor is into the generous pour.  That’s how we roll.)

6:00:  I make dinner, usually 2 oz. of chicken (Again with the 2 oz?  The Shadow notes this does not sound like very much), 1/2 cup of beans, and another slice of cheese, making sure that my Lose It! app shows I am still in the desirable ratio of 40/30/30.  I eat dinner with the family, shower, and watch television before going to bed.

Tour Two: Could Be the Template for Marvel Comic Book Heroine.

4:00 am:  I shower and begin drinking the first of six bottles, a liter each, of Smart Water, which I will finish drinking throughout the day.  I take my SeroVital tablet and head to work.  I pick up a Venti chai tea latte, no foam, 8 pumps of chai, soy milk.  I start training clients at 5:00 but don't drink the Venti until 6:00 because I must take the SeroVital on an empty stomach (Shadow here again.  I will be looking into this supplement for reasons that become obvious later in this little journey). 

11:00:  I train a particularly difficult client who bitches and moans like some pansy-assed slacker (Yes, you’ve guessed it.  I, The Shadow, am this pansy-assed slacker, although my trainer never actually calls me that, she’s much too positive and up-beat--but I can read it in those piercing blue eyes.  Weak!).  I, again, counsel on the benefits of cardio and feel ignored by this pussy of a client.  God knows why I keep training this dead weight  (Again, she never actually says these things out loud.  It's the eyes talking.  But The Shadow knows that my trainer still loves me).

2:00 pm:  I do an hour of cardio on the stairmaster, or until I reach 800 calories burned (The Shadow notes that her trainer has a really great ass).

3:00:  I go home and walk my dog.  I do some light housecleaning and laundry, and eat lunch: 6 egg whites from hardboiled eggs and a carb (The Shadow would like to add that the “carb” is usually potato chips.  Yes, potato chips!  Albeit she only eats a handful.  If we have lunch together, I usually finish the bag for her.)  I shower and run errands.  I stop by that pansy-assed client's house to help her pick out club chairs for her husband’s new study (The Shadow is lucky to have yet another woman in my life who is freakishly good at interior decor.  She cautions me against the dangers of faux leather).

5:00:  I return to the gym for my afternoon clients.  By now I have drunk at least 4 of the 6 liters of water, 2 with fizzy tabs from Arbonne that have natural caffeine (The Shadow has tried these pill.  They are the bomb!  Picture Lorraine Bracco prancing alongside Sean Connery through the Amazon jungle in Medicine Man on her natural caffeine high!  But then I had to go on blood pressure meds and had to lay off.  Hmm.  I really liked those pills...)

6:00:  I meet up with my boyfriend and we workout 2 body parts for 40 minutes (The Shadow has met the BF.  He, too, looks like an action figure.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I heard her call him "my little action figure."  He is not little.)

7:00:  I return home and shower, then eat dinner with my boyfriend.  I drink the last of my water bottles.  I eat only protein:  2 turkey and swiss rolls, no bread (Again, The Shadow is noticing the paucity of food.  Maybe she should have finished off that bag of chips instead of eating only a handful.  Honestly, how is this woman still standing?  Oh, yeah, all that natural caffeine...).  Then my boy friend and I enjoy an after-dinner drink, two shots of either tequila or vodka for me, Goldschläger for him (The Shadow had to look this up.  Goldschläger is a Swiss cinnamon schnapps with gold flakes floating in it.  Sounds like a very fancy and expensive Fireball, but what do I know?  I only drink Chard).  We have sex for a couple of hours, after which I shower again (The Shadow notes that her trainer is extremely clean ... and is refraining from commenting on 2 hours of sex).  We watch television in bed and fall asleep around 11:00 or midnight.  If he spends the night, we have sex in the morning, a quickie.  I call it our “snack” (What the hell is in that SeroVital?  Or does this speak to the benefits of endorphins?  I bet that other Skinny Bitch is having just as much sex!)

And there you have it, two paths that lead to the same place: IHH--Intense Hotness and Health.  Here is the simple pattern I perceived while shadowing my two Skinny Bitches.
  1. Eat for pleasure rarely.
  2. Have structure to your day.
  3. Exercise like a maniac--or at least 1 hour a day until you feel like you’re going to drop dead.
  4. Have a good eye for interior design.


This is my year of change.  I hope you join me.


Please feel free to comment below.








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THE SKINNY BITCH AND THE SHADOW, PART I

4/29/2015

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Dear readers--I can call you that, right?  All seven of you (which includes the blood relatives).  It took me most of April to get through Simone’s first step:  What do I want to get out of my goal?  Roll Patricia Heaton, slow-mo strutting down the street with her peeps, flipping up the collar of her stylish leather jacket like a super model in the movie Mom’s Night Out.  Now I plan to live at least a few days with Step 2:  Understand what I want and where I am and notice the difference.  Which means, I need to go to Mars.

Remember Mars?  That planet far, far away?  A planet where ten-pound-lighter-me exercises and eats right?  Well, if as Simone instructs, I want to get “completely, impeccably, bullshit-free clear,” I will need to visit that far-off Red Planet.  See how the other half lives.  Though, actually, probably more than half of us don't eat right or exercise or at least I see a lot of PSA stuff on television and I am an avid watcher of competitive weight loss shows.  So, correction.  I want to see how maybe, probably, the other 20 percent live.  This is just off the top of my head, although I am tempted to give it a goog.  Maybe later.  I have a planet to visit.

Day One.  I woke up early.  I figured it was early enough that I could turn on the television and watch a DVRed show while I ate breakfast.  Just the one.  Like a potato chip.  I made myself an expresso and toasted half a whole-wheat English muffin and scrambled three egg whites.  I took my breakfast into the den to eat while watching Bethany Frankel tear open a new one for our poor unsuspecting “Holla!” queen, Heather Thomson.  Unfortunately, my 85 pound Rhodesian Ridgeback male, Denzel, shifted on the couch and my coffee and fluffy, super healthy egg white scramble landed on my lap.  Lesson learned.  
Second breakfast attempt, this one at the kitchen counter, was an English muffin, an egg, sunny side up (all out of the egg whites) and another expresso.  I wrote a blog post, ran errands, and worked out at the gym.

It was now 10:30 am.

I had accomplished more than I usually did in two day.  And it wasn’t even lunch time.

You would think I'd be all fired up now.  Look at me!  So productive!  So capable!  Look at all the crap I got done!  Before lunch!

But I actually felt strangely flummoxed.  Like someone had let the air out of the balloon and I was flat on the floor staring longingly at my television, which was now off (only the one chip, dammit!) 

Here it was, late morning, and I had all these hours stretching endlessly ahead...

H’oh boy.

That’s when I decided I couldn’t create a Mars for myself and then come crashing down for a landing in a world I had no feel for or sense of because, let’s be honest, my life had arced from teenager with body issues to neurotic attorney to writer living off the crack highs and lows of deadlines, reviews, and bestseller lists to chardonnay wheeling empty nester.  I didn’t even take vitamins, just the occasional Xanax.  And if I haven’t mentioned it before, my four food groups are caffeine, alcohol, fried foods and salsa.  

But I’m a writer, you say.  I’m supposed to be able to produce out of thin air worlds inhabited by characters and drama so real they can make you laugh and cry.  Only, this turned out to be more of a tactile journey.  It required the kind of real-life experience I could not recreate on my own.  It was like Disneyland--you think you know what it’s about and then you go on Indiana Jones and it’s like whoa!  Who knew!  

So yeah.  I needed to find a "real" Mars to visit.  Like Disneyland.

Enter the Skinny Bitch and the Shadow. 

I knew a couple of Skinny Bitches well enough to beg, borrow, and steal their lives for a day or two.  I, of course, would be the Shadow, watching their every move, taking notes.  


Which I did.  Which lead me to this realization:  It ain’t easy being a Skinny Bitch, people.  And that’s no bullshit.

H’oh boy.


This is my year of change.  I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.                                        












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WORLDS APART

4/28/2015

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I have already touched on Simone’s second step in a previous post but to refresh:  1) be absolutely clear about your goal, 2) understand where you actually are, and 3) notice the difference.

The difference in my case, friends, is legions.  

Now, you might think ten pounds isn’t that big a deal.  Healthy weight loss can be achieved losing an average of 1-2 pounds a week.  I know this because I am an alum of Weight Watchers, Nutrisystem, South Beach, yada, yada, yada.  In two months, I could be strolling with my posse wearing my Jimmy Choos into the place of my choosing, preferably one that allows for a wide age-range, say 30s to 80s.  Yes, these places exist thanks to us baby boomers, and they don’t always play polka music.

But those ten pounds are actually symbolic.  Because I’m looking for real change.  And despite my very shallow inspiration from Mom’s Night Out, those ten pounds go deep. 

People, I am very far from my goal.

Perhaps this is what Simone wants us to understand through the exercise.  That where we are and where we want to be are real places that require actual steps.  And it ain’t gonna happen with a glass of Chard in my fist, whiling away the hours watching a "Real Housewives" marathon--and damn if it isn’t Tuesday and my favorite housewives are back, the ladies of New York!  Though I’m sending out some love to you, too, Melbourne.

Knowing what I want to get out of it--my night out with my gal pals--helps.  It’s the inspiration photo of better times on the fridge, the promised shopping spree at the end of the dieting rainbow, the Post-its with affirmations placed strategically around the kitchen.  And luckily, I recorded the movie so I can replay the scene as many times as needed.  

But the fact remains that ten-pound-heavier-me and ten-pound-lighter-me are two different people with two very different life-style choices.  And they appear worlds apart.

So if I am brutally honest with myself--if I am crystal clear, as Simone directs--me sitting on the couch, popping back crackers laden with gouda, washing them down with chardonnay, laughing at the newest housewives shenanigans and me doing forty minutes or more of cardio, eating my protein-loaded 1200 calories a day?  These two women are like a rocket to Mars apart.


In the past, that image alone would have me pouring the wine and grabbing the remote. But I've been blogging and reading and, god-forbid, getting serious about making real change in my life.  And I'm curious.  What's it gonna take to get to Mars? 

I'm ready to get off the couch.

This is my year of change.  I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.













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THE GIDGET FACTOR

4/26/2015

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I am a shallow human being.  I just need you to understand what you’re working with here.

Back when I was studying law at UC Berkeley, Boalt Hall, I was up for a pretty prestigious scholarship, for my skills for advocacy mostly.  I’m sure you can’t tell here, but I’m a bit of a talker.  I managed to use that talent to do well in classes that involved, well, talking persuasively.  During my interview for my scholarship, I was asked the one question you would expect, the one you would prepare for:  What made me want to study law?  And I wasn’t prepared.  Because I wanted to be spontaneous.  Speak from the heart.  No canned responses for me, talented speaker that I am.  So no preparation.

That’s when I brought up Gidget.

You see, when I turned 9 years old, I was watching Gidget Grows Up, one of the Gidget episodes in which our dear heroine decides she wants to work at the United Nations.  Because Gidget has only two years of college under her belt, the only job she can land is that of tour guide.  Well, once I found out that a place like the UN existed, I got it in my head that one day I, like Gidget, would work there.  Only I didn’t want to be a tour guide like Gidget.  So I decided to become an attorney specializing in International Law.

I stuck religiously to this goal for 14 years.  First, I studied languages--I could speak 5 by the time I graduated college.  I received my undergraduate degree in International Relations.  At Boalt Hall, I took classes in International Law.  

Maybe it was the shock value--maybe the middle-aged white men in that room were tired of the same canned responses--but I got my scholarship admitting that Gidget influenced me to study law.  

And now, I have found a new muse.  

Last night, I watched Mom’s Night Out.  

That scene where the ladies slow motion walk into the club like they own it?  Yeah.  I want to do that.  Ok, they were actually walking down the sidewalk on their way to a chichi restaurant, but you get where I’m going with this.  Just like that nine-year-old girl who spent fourteen years planning for her job at the UN (And no, I never did work at the UN), I want to walk into a club with my two gorgeous, younger friends, one at each side, and feel the eyes of everyone in the room upon us.  Because you can’t help but notice me and my posse.  We are that striking.  Each step in our Jimmy Choos is real estate we own.  And like Sondra, the Patricia Heaton character in Mom’s Night Out, despite the ten years I have on my companions, I will look like I belong.

And for that, I won’t need to learn five languages or get a law degree.  But I will need to lose some weight.  I figure about 10 pounds.

Now, before you judge me for being motivated by some cheesy movie scene, I will point out that the reason these scenes appear in movies is precisely because they are powerful.  Those women walking into that restaurant hit a universal truth.  It’s practically Campbellesque.  The plot built to that moment--the film maker wanted my reaction.  Maybe it touched on something as mundane as recapturing my youth, I’m really not sure.  But I know that I want to arrive somewhere, hair blowing back, my two gals--one blonde, one brunette--both gorgeous and much, much younger than me, my wing women.  And it will be empowering.

It took almost the entire month of April but I have accomplished Simone’s first step.  I know what I want to get out of my goal.  Booyah.

This is my year of change.  I hope you join me.

Please feel free to comment below.









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    OLGA BICOS
    Author and Dog Lover

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