How can it be?

At the advice of my non-medically educated friend Robin, I took the last two days off from work outs (actually she only suggested the one day), but I felt compelled to take her advice to a higher level. Everything I do is one notch up - it's the Super Hero in me I think.

I made up for it today by 38 minutes, yeah, that's right, count 'em, thirty-eight on the stairmaster and twenty-two on the treadmill. Math, not my subject, but I can add to 60. I haven't done 60 minutes of cardio since the Carter Administration.

I might have pushed myself a little harder, because I went to a boxing match with my BF on Friday night. We were ringside which is where I ran into MY trainer. I introduced my BF to Dietrich, at which point Dietrich informed us he has trained a couple of the Ring Card girls there that night. I'm sure you know where this is going.

So at each and every round I'm (ringside, mind you) subjected to these androidian products of Dietrich, that is if androidian is even a word. I look up at them, I look back down at myself, I look back up at them, then back at myself. At which point I'm starting to think - I'm not sure I see a resemblance. I want to find Dietrich and ask, "How much do they pay you?" Cuz when I look at them, I'm not feeling like I'm looking in a mirror.

Clearly there is some mixup here. Doesn't he understand I'm training to be a Super Hero? I mean, how much more money does he need? I think I've already paid him enough to buy a small condo, okay or maybe a scooter. I'm not really sure.

It was bound to happen sooner or later

Yep, you know what I'm talking about. The Super Hero athletic injury. I don't know how it happened, but today while in the gym with my trainer, a horrible stabbing pain underneath my left shoulder blade reduced me to a sniveling, little toddler crying for mommy.

I mean it felt as if a tiny Leprechaun climbed up underneath my shoulder blade using a pick-axe, then shoved it in a nice tight spot and started swinging to-and-fro - all the while screaming with a maniacal laugh.

This cut my training time down to only 15 minutes on the stairmaster. You say, but the stairmaster has nothing to do with your shoulder. I say - but Gunter the cell master, a.k.a. the trainer wasn't showing any mercy in our 40 minute dance on the gym floor. Therefore, instead of throwing up with an audience, I chose to leave the gym and call it a day OFF.

If you care, that was at 10 this morning and it's 6:47 p.m. now and I'm still in writhing pain. Since the workout was cut short, I really layed off the calories today and consumed a Muscle Milk light, coffee, a chicken breast, some tuna, a rice cake with almond butter and now the nectar of the Gods, Italian red wine. I get no pleasure downing Aleve, Advil or Ibuprofen - I mean really, doesn't grape juice taste a whole lot better going down?

It's a new Day

So after experiencing Disney's Tower of Terror in the dressing room yesterday, I spiked my workout up a notch. 30 minutes with the trainer; 30 minutes on the stairs (3 miles) and 15 minutes on the treadmill (1 mile). So during this process I rid myself of so much fluid, that I created an all new atmospheric condition in the aerobic room.

People with straight hair were actually walking out with Jheri curls. I kid you not. This was a brutal day. A day I asked myself, wouldn't it be easier to just EAT a lot less? By the way - I would never ask myself, wouldn't it be easier to just quit drinking Champagne and wine? That would be a felony stupid question. Nothing is easier without libations. Nothing!

I tried my turn at Macy's again to get the perfect gift for mom. As I was looking at the G-strings in the lingerie section (not for my mom)- please remember I have a bit of a distraction problem. So, anyway I hear this booming voice, "Mam?" I ignore it, then "Mam?" again. I turn around thinking - OMG is this about that damn mirror?

So it's this sweet cowboy holding up a robe on a hangar, and I say well thank you that is so thoughtful. How did you know I needed a new plushy black robe? He smiled and said, "how tall are you?" So my response is "Oh, so are you Prince Charming, except it's a robe rather than a slipper?" "I'm afraid I can save you the trouble - I'm not your Cinderella, I'm sure."

This man is relentless. Apparently he's buying a robe for his wife and I looked to be her height, which is 5'6". I didn't have the heart to tell him I had heels on, therefore his scientific sizing might be off a little. Anyway, I tried the robe on, it fit, and he turned on his heel with a thank you and purchased it just like that.

Since he's so efficient at purchasing for others, I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and see if he could pick something out for my mother.

Picking myself up and dusting myself off.

Okay, after two days in Vegas I woke up with the nagging feeling I must go to the gym. So I throw some cereal on the counter for the kids, squeeze into the leotard (not really, I don't even own a leotard) it just sounded funny. Although a certain Senator in our state has been spotted wearing such a contraption to the gym.

I pull off a miracle with 22 minutes on the stairmaster. You really have to ease yourself back into this routine to avoid injury - I'm sure I've read that some where. I then went the distance with 22 minutes in the weight room. I had no time left. I had to get showered and to my next appointment, LUNCH.

I had a Mercury Salad, oh that's Ahi Tuna in civilian speak. Apparently Super Heros bulk up on toxins to create an immunity against any type of warfare that can be thrown at them. Tomorrow is kryptonite consumption day. I can't actually tell you what foods contain kryptonite - it's a family secret.

So after lunch I run into Macy's with the ambitious goal of finding a fabulous birthday present for my mother. I head straight upstairs to the petite section, because my mother is a Cupie doll. I'm searching for petite Ralph Lauren when I notice bathing suits.

Well I've been working on my Super Hero self for at least 5 days now, why not celebrate in all the glory of me in a bathing suit. Off to the dressing room I go. I'm going to have to send a letter of apology and a nice size check to Macy's for the mishap with the mirror.

Okay so where is that Ralph Lauren section? I'm diligently searching and hoping no one is following me from the "Why did you think you could wear a bathing suit" section, when I hear.... Sean.. Sean.. No. I'm thinking. No! No more distractions - must get mom a present.

It's that damn Calvin Klein. He's sure he has the perfect dress for me in the formal section. But Calvin I'm here on a mission. My mother's birthday is Sunday - Ooooh.. that is a beautiful jewel-toned red dress. Okay, quickly I will try it on. What's that? Oh it's on sale - 45 dollars you say? My mother couldn't live with herself if she knew I missed out on such a deal. I'm happy to report, the mirrors in the dress section are still in perfect condition.

Las Vegas Debauchery

I have been remiss in blogging due to taking on the persona of someone who isn't training to be a Super Hero. Yes, two days in Vegas does not a Super Hero make. As a matter of fact, at the writing of this blog my brain still can't catch up with my physical self.

Upon my arrival at Simons, a big beautiful Mimosa sat upon a pedestal before me. I swear there was an Angelic glow hovering over it. The glass was so rich and inviting with little beads of sweat - as if there was concern I might reject it. I took pity and swilled that nectar before we sat down; and then the other 5 that followed - never had to sweat.

I devoured sushi, an egg white Frittata, boiled shrimp; and I scraped my teeth across the end of a candy bar. I did avoid any items from the "White Trash" portion of the menu. However my co-conspirators rolled their sleeves up like champions and took on the pigs in a blanket; and waffles and fried chicken. If anyone was looking, they may have seen me rubbing a tiny portion of the chicken all over myself. I know, sorry for the visual.

My cardio for the day was sauntering through the airport; I think I entered and exited an automobile about 8 times; walked into two clothing stores and a grocery store twice. The grocery store needed extra attention, because I suddenly created a habit of buying multiple bottles of wine just for the sheer pleasure of bouncing them on the concrete. Although this seemed to be a great pleasure for me, the humor was lost on those who actually wanted to imbibe. But, back to my point, I was really burning the calories.

Dinner included wine, 5 bites of pork, really super scrumptious pork, and some nibbles of to-die-for BREAD. I love bread, I never eat bread - I ate bread people. So I'm going to just go ahead and round that calorie count up to about 9000 for the day. I might have had a small set-back. I think my arch nemesis sent radioactive evil thingies into the reasoning portion of my brain. Or I could just blame it on the ah-ah ah-ah ah-al-co-hol.

Chuck Yeager yelled at me

So after the kickboxing caper yesterday, I met with a couple of friends for lunch at Harrah's Steakhouse. I had Parmesan crusted chicken breast, broccoli and yes, a glass of Rombauer Chardonnay. Hello, I'm at Harrah's on a Friday.

Now on to the evening. I met a friend a the Grill (my personal favorite watering hole - in Reno). I experienced two lovely glasses of Champagne. Now in case you don't know, Champagne is a good choice because it is a smaller pour and fewer calories, blah, blah, blah.

So after the second lovely glass of Champagne, the bartender informs me that "Mr. Politician" would like to buy me a drink. Well... What am I going to say? Oh no thank you "Mr. Politician," because I'm doing this whole new thing where I'm going to be a Super Hero and this probably wouldn't be conducive to my goals.

I believe my exact words were, "Hit me." Now "Mr. Politician" was all the way on the other side of the room and, I really needed to thank him but I was surrounded by a sea of people (maybe 5), so I gave him a wave and a nod and unbeknownst to everyone else, I used my Super Hero telepathic ability which transported my aura right to him, where I thanked him profusely. I'm pretty sure he felt it too.

So my BF shows up and we go to his favorite watering hole, Porky's, it's basically on our way home. A large group of our friends are about to sit down to dinner with fellow Safari Club members and they invite us. Oh I couldn't possibly, I had the Parmesan Crusted Chicken today ...... Oh well, Okay I just won't eat. I'll have a glass of wine with you.

So, I'm at the table of 28 people and I look two people to my right - and there is, in the flesh, Chuck Yeager. I know, I'm stunned. He's the fastest man alive and he's sitting still, almost right next to me. After everyone is full of red meat and wine, Mr. Yeager stands up and starts talking.

I'm thinking hey we're shooting the shit with Chuck Yeager. So I pipe in and we all get a big laugh - then he looks at me and says, "Do you want to speak?" Oops, I think I was just reprimanded (for the sake of the story, I'm saying he yelled at me). I thought well, I guess you should probably have the floor Mr. Yeager, being that you're already standing and all.

So everyone is hanging on his every word when he's talking about, I don't know, breaking some sound barrier and shooting planes down. All the while I feel like the little kid in church who is looking all around as everyone else has their heads down in prayer. I'm looking for anything, a bug to squish, anything.

I want to take him aside and say Chuckie. Oh yeah by now we have pet names for each other. He calls me Mouthy Cow. It's so sweet, because he's from Texas where I'm pretty sure cows are sacred - so I was just feeling the love.

Anyway, I want to say let's hear about some really cool stuff, like the movie "The Right Stuff." Or how that Barbara Hershey chick is now a drug addict or how Sam Shepard got a D.U.I. I mean, give me something.

He actually apologized for getting on me, and his wife told me he never apologizes to anyone. I can't be sure, but I'm almost certain my Super Hero powers forced that apology.

Day Two

Okay, so yesterday was very successful. I ended up with consuming only 1393 calories and that included 3 glasses of Ferrari Carano Merlot with about five bites of peppered steak at my favorite watering hole, The Grill. It was date night.

I know, you say well three glasses of wine, that's replacing viable nutrients your body needs. Hey, I never said I was a nutritionist. I'm a N.A.R.C.I.S.S.I.S.T. And by the way, if I use that word enough - I'll eventually remember how to spell it without aid from the dictionary. Oh, I didn't even finish the third glass of wine. I swear I left just enough in the bottom, that if unattended - it might leave a stain.

Today I will attempt a new sport, Kickboxing. Not sure I have the proper balancing ability, because I hear you actually have to lift your leg above hip level at times. You will receive a full report. I have actually worked out now 7 days in a row now and I think my clothes have a millicent of give. I'm using metrics for emphasis, because metric measurements sound smaller than... whatever you call our system we use here in the good ole U.S. of A.

I ate canned salmon for breakfast. Yuck I know, but I need the protein and I ate all my egg whites yesterday. If you eat things you don't like, then you tend to give most of it to the dog, which I call stomach bypass, without the surgery. I've got to get to the store.

Still Day One

Okay, so far today I've eaten 320 calories and burned 532. See, this blog is already helping me push harder. I have to admit though, during the 30 minutes on the stairmaster- I got off twice - asked where the nearest plastic surgeon was - then hoisted myself back up in a fit of crying.

No one at the gym pays attention to me. As a matter of fact, they move away from my space. Extra humiliation hit when I was atop the stairs, climbing to the pearly gates - my BF walks in. Now, I must explain that I am a sweater - when I say sweat I mean - I was donning the just dumped a bucket of water on me like I'm in a wet T-shirt contest look, but without the glamorous hair part. If he can love me after this, he's a stronger man than most.

My friends have asked why I started this blog. I think its pretty clear that public humiliation is a great motivator for me.

Day One to Super Herodom

I am a 48-year-old single mother of a girlie Tween; and I am a full-time lobbyist in the state of Nevada (hey at least I'm not a hooker). I have been someone who works out enough to get by and eat just good enough to never make a difference. I work out a few times a month with a personal trainer, and although I see some changes in muscle tone, my clothes fit the same as they did last year and the year before - oh hell, probably the same a eight years ago. Who am I kidding?

I finally had a stellar idea, I'll become an actress who is being sought after to play a Super Heroine, and she's somewhere around the age of, um - 48. With this, I have motivation to work harder and eat better, because for the role - I will receive a couple of million dollars. Yes. That's it - I'm going to be a Super Hero. I can't wait to read the script. I've got to get an agent, stat.

Okay, so when I snapped back into reality, I realized what I really need is to be held accountable by others in my narcissistic attempt at a better swim suit body. So with this blog, I'm going to reveal every detail of my food intake, exercise regiment and I will even give up the big, bad ugly truth of all my failures throughout. Stayed tuned - there will be many.

So my goal is to have a Super Hero-ish stature by April, when I will be going to Cabo with a group of women, yes, women. The most judgmental creatures to inhabit the earth. This is who I'm doing this for. Certainly not a man, because from my years of experience - men aren't really that picky about who they sleep with - but women - they are vicious. Not that I'll be sleeping with any of these women, mind you.

I'm new to this, so I'm not sure how often I will be on with updates, etc. So here it goes.