I Need to Go Outside and Touch Grass

This is definitely something that's been building up, but I'm one more global health crisis away from never ever leaving my apartment again. Ever. Just me cosplaying as Howard Hughes wearing tissue boxes as shoes and hand sanitizer on a chain around my neck.

But bigger than my anxiety about what is happening outside my door, is my fear of losing my mind. It's the one thing I depend on for survival, and I cannot fathom a life worth living if I didn't have my wits about me.

Enter this doctor's YouTube channel, a small video I came across during my two-month stint as a person who is up from 6PM to 6AM. In a nutshell, she says that prolonged social isolation is a form of brain damage. BRAIN DAMAGE. Y'all. I've never been so scared straight in my whole miserable life.

So now I have to figure out how to reset my sleep schedule to follow a more traditional western society cycle. How do you peasant's do it? How do you get into bed at night, close your eyes, turn off The Voices? How do you get comfortable? Fall asleep? Stay asleep? Y'all don't drown in worries, like what if a fire breaks out in the building, or a bunch of military tanks roll down Flatbush Avenue and start killing us indiscriminately? Or if this is the Buffalo wing that will finally trigger that MI you've been trying to avoid your whole life?

Or, I don't know... maybe a sound mind is overrated...

Love & Balls,

Jaded

-----

anxiety, keep on tryin' me

i feel it quietly

tryin' to silence me

Today on This Meatless Life...

First of all, don't get excited. I'm only here because I personally hate it when people write monologues on FB and found my post was getting too long, and then I remembered: Bitch, you're still pay for this URL. Take that shit to the blog.

Second, if you don't follow me on FB then let me explain that last week I decided to eat all plant-based meals, 1. to see if I could, 2. to see if my body would feel any different or better, and 3. because Beyonce asked me to. There. Now you're all caught up.

So last week's experiment taught me some more about how flavors work together, what it means to be full/satisfied, and how much 'fake' food we're inundated with.

Besides Saturday's tofu adventures, I steered clear of meat/protein substitutes (y'all can keep that impossible burger FAR away from me, and no, I would NOT like any chik'n or 'vegan' cheese or that seitan—pronounced like SATAN for a reason) and instead opted for REAL whole vegetables. I also made better choices on grains and/or starches (because I knew this vegetarian in college whose diet consisted basically of pasta and it was not...cute).

clockwise from top left: veggie pita 'pizza' | tofu tikka masala
veggie + manchego frittata | veggie fried quinoa

Moving forward? Who knows. I don't agree that it's unethical to eat animals so this isn't that. It's mostly trying to recognize what my body will no longer tolerate (I haven't been feeling my best), mixing it up in the kitchen, which is arguably one of my favorite pastimes, and not being so lazy when it comes to my own nourishment (if you looked at my bank statement it would read SEAMLESS all the way down. ridiculous!).

But you can still invite me out for Buffalo wings, and you best believe I'm having SANCOCHO on February 27, and platano con salami can't be beat. But now, I know the answer to "what do y'all vegetarians eat? And is it filling and/or nutritious?" because I lived it. No more obnoxious questions from me, I promise! And I also found another way to reduce my carbon footprint, which is always in the back of my mind. And not to get full-blown hippie on you, but it felt good to peel, chop, cook and eat things that came out of the ground. I could almost imagine that I grew them myself, which, of course, is my next goal.

Y'all be good.

And don't miss me too much.

Also, eat your greens, dammit.

smooches...with a fridge full of veggies and a head full of recipes
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don't bother leaving a comment because they're closed lol

Journey To Di Road: Day 16 | My 3,527TH Excuse

What can I say? I lost interest in this journey a week after I started writing about it out of pure frustration with myself. That led to a spiral, which led to another spiral, which led to...hmmm, what was that? OH YES. ANOTHER SPIRAL.

So fine. I'm not okay. When I think about going to the gym I die a little bit inside. I'm ashamed of the weight I've gained. I don't want anyone to look at me. I DON'T WANT TO BE SEEN and not in my usual introverted "don't look at me" way, either. The only reason I even bother still coming to work is because I have a kid in college, one about to go to college, and I need the money.

Then just get your ass to the gym and change how you do things! That's the VERY UNSOLICITED advice I get from people who don't understand anxiety or depression. My brain don't work like your brain. I literally scream inside my head get up, go outside, don't eat that, do better, but whatever is supposed to communicate with my physical body is all bitch, shut up; we're sitting here frozen and you'll just have to fucking deal with it.

And don't come at me with the "endorphins" myth because LISTEN TO THIS UNMITIGATED HARD ASS TRUTH: Endorphins are a junky science LIE. I've never felt energized or happy after a workout, only sore and tired and sleepy. Maybe my endorphins are broken? WHO KNOWS STOP ASKING SO MANY STUPID FUCKING QUESTIONS.

But this morning I looked in the mirror and absolutely hated what I saw, who I've become. She is disgusting. She eats too much and then lays around letting life pass by. She never finishes what she starts and she often goes back on her word, especially to herself.

Yeah, this might be a problem.

Seriously, the only thing keeping me together most days is the bomb-ass lipsticks I use to hide behind so people will think I'm fine and normal.

Photo of my poppin' ass lipgloss to distract you from my mental illness

This is Day 16.

Breakfast: a chai and a cheddar scone; they were both gross and I regretted everything about it
Snack: nothing; work was on some bullshit all day and I barely left my desk
Lunch: two tacos, homemade chips, with guac, salsa, and a seltzer; why the fuck not? I needed to stress eat.

I regret nothing!

Victories: just took my vitamins, and started incorporating some GREEN FOOD supplements. I mean, I bought 'em, might as well take 'em
WOMP Moments: my whole life is a WOMP moment; shut up.

Currently, I'm dealing with a mom who's hiding from the world and sending my calls to voicemail, a shitty computer that stops working whenever, wherever, and a very real book deadline, on top of some very overdue shit at work. I'm getting some comfort food today. I'M GETTING SOME COMFORT FOOD TODAY.

And then I'm going to sit at my table and have a Come To Jesus Meeting with my To Do List and decide which of those things just aren't gonna get done. Ever. And force myself to be okay with it.

*smooches...not in the mood for the bullshit*
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and by "the bullshit" I mean MY bullshit

Journey To Di Road: Day 6 | This Is Why I Stopped Blogging

I did not love myself this weekend. I was not good to my body. I broke all the promises I made to myself. I continue feeding this cycle of unhealthy behaviors and somehow think "tomorrow will be different" without any real action on my part.

This isn't just about my health, this applies to my career, finances, relationships--you name it. One day, I was reading over my blog and realized, I hadn't grown as a person at all. I hadn't learned from my mistakes and I hadn't taken any real steps to change my situation. I was still coasting through life, and all I had to show for it was nearly 2,000 blog posts of First World Whining. So I quit. And now I'm sitting here wondering why I ever started back again--just to remind myself how dumb I am?

I mean, I could sit here and explain how the heat is sparse in my apartment and that makes me not want to do anything, but the not doing anything is why I'm still stuck in this drafty apartment 11 years later. But that's just another excuse. I did attempt to make better choices: I made oatmeal for breakfast on Saturday, and at the movies on Sunday (we saw HIDDEN FIGURES and it was wonderful). I didn't have my usual popcorn and slushie. However, that's only because we went to Bareburger first and made pigs of ourselves.

Saturday Breakfast | Sunday Lunch

Then there was a whole spaghetti and rice and garlic bread and ice cream and pound cake situation that I really don't want to get into.

I did go food shopping, though, and I made a beef stew for dinner tonight (which I ate too late but still, it wasn't the pizza and wings I really truly wanted). Slow cookers are a godsend.

This is Day 6.

Breakfast: eight ounces of lobster butternut squash bisque from The Soup Bowl in Park Slope. I really wanted a bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll, but I opted for soup. I don't know which one was worse for me.
Snack: one of those Plantar's salted peanuts packets from the snack drawer.
Lunch: beef and broccoli + seltzer water
Victories: I didn't get that bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll, NOR did I get the pizza and wings I craved for dinner.
WOMP Moments: didn't go to the gym; didn't get enough sleep; didn't drink enough water; ate TWO bags of chips from the snack drawer at work. And I'm about to have some ice cream. I WON'T BE STOPPED.

Right now, besides the ice cream, I'm going to take my vitamins/supplements. Then I'm going to pack my lunch for tomorrow, right after I make an "egg pie" for tomorrow's breakfast. Then I'm going to shower, then I'm going to read, while the cast of MOANA accompanies me. Good night.

Journey To Di Road: Day 3 | McDonald's...

Yesterday did not go as planned, again.

At the movies (PS- MOANA is freakin' awesome and if you haven't seen it, whether or not you have a lil one, please get your life!), I told myself "order the ginger ale; it's gotta be better than the slushie." But then I promptly reminded myself to shut the fuck up because blue raspberry slushies were sent from the gods for us to enjoy here on earth. This was my actual thought process. I'm trying to help y'all understand how I ended up 55lbs overweight.

So I got the slushie. Plus a popcorn (to share!) and, well, a hot dog. As I was buying it, I told myself that this was my dinner. It was a crappy one, but I wasn't going to go home and cook so late at night and then eat and then go to sleep with that full belly, no way. Might as well just eat a crappy frank and call it a night.

But after the movie, and after traipsing through the Disney Store buying some MOANA merch, N and I made a fatal decision: we hopped on the D train instead of waiting for the F. Why is this important? Because the walk home from the D puts us in the line of fire of the Golden Arches. And we SURE DID GO IN THERE AND ORDER FOOD. She, a Big Mac meal; me, three-piece chicken strips and a medium fry (no drink, like it mattered at that point, but I just wasn't in the mood for a soda, and I can drink water at home for free).

And after I got home and shoved my face with all that salty goodness (LISTEN. McDonald's fries will NOT be defeated!), I half-heartedly worked on my monthly newsletter (due out this morning; Spoiler Alert: it was late!), then proceeded to play Panda Pop on my phone until I passed out from a sodium-induced coma. I'm failing at life so desperately, it's not even funny.

This is Day 3.

Breakfast: some trash-ass oatmeal from the cafe at work in an attempt to be healthy; I didn't even finish it
Snack: nothing today; I ate breakfast rather late
Lunch: something called a "Wild Chicken Bowl" from one of those fancy-schmancy health food/juice bars near work (of which I only managed to eat half because I swear they put a whole forest of kale in the bowl); it had CASHEW NUT CHEESE, which I consider my punishment for last night's debacle

The Wild Chichen Salad from Fuel Juice Bar, BK

Victories: took my supplements/vitamins; did not have candy from the work snack drawer; actually wrote this blog
WOMP Moments: didn't go to the gym; didn't get enough sleep; didn't drink enough water; don't have solid plans for dinner.

Are you seeing the pattern? Yeah, me, too, also, as well.

Tonight I will likely hang out with a friend, but it's the kind of friend that, if I say DO NOT LET ME EAT THAT SHIT, they, you know, won't let me eat that shit. I have high hopes. I might also get some food shopping done. I might also cook. I might also write.

I might also say FUCK IT ALL and lay around watching IT'S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA all night. Who. Knows.

But let's all say a collective prayer that I love myself enough to be kind to my body, mind, and soul, instead.

*smooches...with a headache creeping, threatening the night*
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look at that; I'm already thinking up an excuse to be a sloth tonight

Journey To Di Road: Day 1 | A Healthy Jaded Series

My fellow blog-ericans...it's been a minute. With apps like Instagram and Snapchat, I just felt this communication platform outliving its usefulness. Until now.

But first, we dance.



So remember a couple years back how excited I was to play mas on the parkway, only to have my dreams snatched by the Sesame Flyers Mas Camp who never made my costume, even though I paid in full with 650 American dollars? No? Well, that was a thing. And it broke my heart. I worked out. I ate as well as I could. I was beyond excited at the thought of being IN a parade. And when it didn't happen, I cried bitter tears in my room before just going to the beach and trying to put it out of my mind. I haven't been to a socacize class since then, partly because my spirits were dampened and partly because I needed distance from that whole world.

This year, the West Indian Day Parade is turning 50. It's a huge thing. With two years separating me from my major humiliation, which I shall call COSTUME-GATE, I'm ready to try again (with a different camp, of course. Sesame Flyers is DEAD TO ME FOR LIFE, YO!). But one thing stands between me and the skimpiest of bedazzled, be-feathered bikinis: I currently weigh in at a whopping 225lbs.

Not even I'm ready for this jelly...

Yes, my dears, your girl has given in to anxiety and eaten herself unhealthy. A flight of stairs finds me desperately out of breath. Any attempt at previous levels of cardio exertion causes weird irregular heartbeats. Bending over to tie my shoes is incredibly difficult and painful. Even yoga has become a chore for me, as any flexibility and strength I ever had has disappeared under 55lbs of fat. FIFTY-FIVE-MOTHER-FUCKING-POUNDS. I should be taken out back and horsewhipped.

Because I know this is not me, this is not my comfortable, happy size, I've decided to use the Labor Day festivities as a catalyst to get me back in the gym and back under a better eating plan. I have to keep my focus on NOT becoming a diabetic and NOT having a weight-induced heart attack and NOT developing high blood pressure, all things prevalent in my family. I don't want my last days to be peppered with doctor appointments and a trough of medications. And if vanity is the way to get me motivated, then dammit, let's do this!

SO THIS IS DAY ONE.

• Breakfast: mangu, salami, queso frito, scrambled eggs
• Lunch: 2 tacos (one fish, one grilled chicken), chips, guac, seltzer
• Victories: took my supplements/vitamins; did not have candy from the work snack drawer (had an apple instead); actually wrote this blog
• WOMP Moments: didn't go to the gym; drank coffee to wake up; didn't drink enough water; don't have solid plans for dinner.

My meals have been...not the best and I didn't go to the gym this morning after a low-grade anxiety attack prevented me from leaving the house. My plans for after-work gym time is not looking likely, either, because I can feel that anxiety attack creeping up on me as I type this; I've opted, instead, to walk home, briskly, as my physical activity for the day. I will meal prep tonight for tomorrow. I will get to bed- not my sofa, but my actual bed- by midnight. That's all I can muster right now.

But check back daily as I document this experience, YET AGAIN, through September.

Also, welcome back.




*smooches...to old friends and new*
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Did you miss me? Don't answer that because comments are closed lol

The TaTas Are Gonna Be Okay: A Healthy Jaded Update

Hello my darlings!

This random post is brought to you by my recent slew of doctor visits to make sure I didn't have breast cancer. Yeah, man, you read that correctly. Thankfully, everything is cool: there is no cancer in my breast meat and therefore no tough decisions need to be made. I just needed to write this out and release it from my brain. I guess that's why I maintain this URL--am I right??

Annoyed beyond belief.
But mostly scared

Anyways... so I had my very first mammogram shortly after my 40th birthday, and it wasn't so bad. They didn't squish me up as terribly as I imagined and the appointment didn't take too long. I thought it would be weird to have my breasts manhandled in that fashion, but you know what? I've been seeing an OB/GYN since I was 18; I'm used to having my parts manhandled by now.

After the exam, the technician advised me that I might be called back for a second mammogram, but that it's common so not to worry if I get that call. Of course, I got the call. My boobies were too "dense" so I needed an ultrasound + a second mammogram to see better. Annoying but I knew it was essential.

On my second exam, which consisted of a long ass wait and repeat visits to the mammogram room and an ultrasound, the doctor says, "There's a few spots we can't identify. We're going to need to do a needle biopsy. This is common and I'm sure it's nothing." CHILD. I hate when medical professionals say that shit: I'm sure it's nothing. Like, maybe to YOU because this is what you do all the live-long day. But this is all new to me. Save the platitudes for your momma.

So then came the needle biopsy last week. It's exactly what it sounds like (especially if you have your MD from TV dramas like I do): the doctor goes in through a tiny incision with a needle to biopsy whatever the spots or masses in my breasts are/were. There was Novocain involved. I was awake. I felt nothing and everything. It was preceded and followed by a few additional mammograms. I was cold, annoyed, and on the verge of tears.

The other women in the waiting area with me were split between survivors and women just there for routine mammograms. I just didn't want to be there among the women who'd lost their hair to chemo, and maybe even lost some parts to cancer. It was all too much. I can't even imagine what I would have done if it had gone the other way.

I started thinking about my breasts a lot. About how much I've defined myself by them. How their size has always been a running gag among family and friends. How the insecure teen in me always thinks that's the only attractive part of me: whatever my size I can always count on them to bring the boys to the yard.

And MY HAIR! I didn't want to lose not even a strand of my beautiful, messy, greying hair! It's just as much of an identifier for me as my breasts are, and it was breaking me down to think I could lose both. And then I started to feel petty and stupid and beat myself up for thinking of such trivial things in the face of cancer. But you know, it's not trivial. These things ARE important. These are MY breasts. This is MY hair. And it's not fair to lose it to stupid ass cancer.

Fast forward to now, I can count myself among the fortunate who are breast cancer-free. It doesn't run in my family and my mom and aunt had already reassured me that they've also had needle biopsies that turned out to be nothing more than calcium deposits or something like that, so there was an excellent chance I would be fine, too. But there's always that lingering doubt when you have an important test like that.

And you know, looking over all this I just read, I realized that none of my worries included how I would pay for any of this, because I have great insurance. My doctors are amazing. I can see specialists whenever for whatever for free. But what about women who can't afford private doctors? How can our elected officials think it's OK to defund such an important institution like Planned Parenthood, when those offices are sometimes the ONLY resources women (and men!) have for annual screenings?

I don't know, I'm rambling at this point. I'm just feeling a lot of things and I wish I had a bigger platform to spread awareness and encourage women to get annual checkups and look after their whole self: mind, body, and soul. Maybe one of you reading this have that kind of platform. Maybe you can spread the word on my (our) behalf. Keep your doctor appointments. Take care of yourself. Take care of your sisters. You're not alone.

*smooches...with a set of healthy breasts, thank goodness*
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and now I can proceed with dressing inappropriately while I re-learn to appreciate my fun bags. OWWW!

Day 10//30 Days Of Yoga: A Healthy Jaded Update

Listen, no one is more shocked than I am that I've gone TEN STRAIGHT DAYS of practicing yoga. Like, I've done yoga at a Yoga People in Downtown Brooklyn, or I've done videos at home when my schedule didn't allow me to travel to the studio. Ten days, y'all. That's longer than most of my post-divorce fauxlationships!

And because y'all know there is no shame in my game, here's me and all my extra weight in all our flexy-glory:

Downward dog

Chair pose; need
to work on my arm
positioning here

Pigeon pose; my
absolute favorite!

Forgot what this one is, but I
don't have full range of motion
anyway, bad back and all...

I'm trying for savasana (corpse
pose) here; K will have none
of it SMH!!

Definitely looking forward to the next 20 days. I am planning to add in some light workouts before yoga, and then return to socacize at the end of the month. And of course everyday I struggle with my food addiction. Baby steps, you know? I don't want to injure myself, thereby giving me an excuse to quit.

But so far, each yoga practice has left me feeling great (well, except for one, but we won't dwell on that. I think I just had a bad attitude that day) and I love that I look forward to my yoga time every day. I'm especially proud that I've figured out ways to continue my practice even though I'm traveling a lot this month--I NEVER do that.

Look at me, all grow'd up!

*smooches...namasteing all up and through this bitch*
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anyone want to join me?

30 Days of Yoga: A Healthy Jaded Update

So I'm back at it again, trying to take charge of my health and wellness, and I thought I'd start with something that always made me feel good when I did it: yoga.

One day she'll be my personal yogi.

I know a few of my friends are like "Nah, B" when it comes to yoga but for me it helps build my physical, mental, and spiritual being.

Sorry if that got all new-agey. Hope I didn't get any on you.

I started my 30-day challenge on Saturday with a nice gentle flow video by Tara Stiles on The YouTube (because I overslept and missed class), and it wasn't what I wanted to be doing but it did feel good to do it. On Sunday, however, I did make it to the studio (Yoga People in Brooklyn), and first of all SOMEONE FAINTED while we were still in tadasana (mountain pose) practicing our yogic breath. Part of me wanted to leave. Also, I was sweating the minute I got in there and already knew downward dog was going to be a problem, what with my wet palms unable to keep me steady on the mat.

But the good parts were the chanting and super tiny talk the instructor started with; something along the lines of seeing yourself in others in order to be more understanding, patient, and compassionate--all things with which I need help. So it was good to receive that message. Another plus was having options and modifications for each pose. I was never made to feel like I shouldn't be in the class, even though at every step I wanted out because my stupid body won't do what I say. The instructor was great about coming over to help correct your pose and gently guide you into a more challenging one if she felt you were ready.

Fainting girl aside, I was able to fight through the "I'm the fattest, blackest chick in here" fear and just complete the class to the best of my ability. Fuck all those hos, I was there for me.

And although I'm writing this from home because I had to take a personal day because OUCH ALL OF MY MUSCLES ARE AWAKE AND THEY'RE ANGRY, I'll be at the noon class for Day 3.

This is finna be a long ass month...

*smooches...wishing I could just be fat and happy*
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unfortunately that combination doesn't work for me.

Food Is My Drug: A Healthy Jaded Update

It's only a matter of time before I overdose. And by overdose I mean get diagnosed with something like diabetes or high blood pressure or death. Then I'll really have something to be all upset and mopey about.

Last time I got on a scale, maybe a month ago, I was 200lbs. TWO HUNDRED. Folks, this is not a drill. This is not a joke. Jaded is 200lbs of jiggly fat. And it's all settled in her stomach (boooo!) and tits (oh for fuck's sake!) and ass (finally!).

Booty-licious BUT that stomach, tho!

I cannot stop eating. It's like a vicious cycle: I eat these bad foods with additives that make me crave more bad foods with more additives and when I stop all I can think of is I NEED MORE BAD FOODS WITH ADDITIVES. I'm thinking about it right now. Right now. I'm imagining crispy fried chicken. Or homemade tortilla chips and guac. A trough of guac. And fries. I want all of it. I NEED all of it.

"When's the baby due, Raquel?"

And I know it's the food that has me too sluggish to go work out, keeping me from focusing on my work, writing or relationships. My finances are struggling. I'm finding it hard to "give a fuck." That's what additives do. They're the drug that makes you not care about anything. And I want to care because look at me. LOOK AT ME! I'M HIDEOUS!! I'M A FUCKING WHALE!!!

I look like a block of cheese. Gov't cheese.

I have a plan in place. In my head. Someone come over here and drag me to the gym to execute it, and while you're add it, delete my Seamless account?

This is an official cry for help. Thanks!

*smooches...wondering how long before heart attack*
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it runs in my family. I swore I wouldn't be next. but now, who knows?

If You Want It You Got It

"Here is the thing. Yoga is not about bliss, but about honesty. Spirituality is not certainty, but the longing of the heart. Enlightenment is not ‘letting go’ of bad feelings, but understanding them, what they’re doing to us, and how they are expressed in the body." -Karin L. Burke

I'll be giving it a go again this weekend. Clearly I was in the wrong mindset before. Maybe this time it will stick.



If Lenny Kravits was my yoga instructor, though, I'd NEVER quit again!

*smooches...not so much inspiration for you but for me*
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I mean, it IS all about me anyway, always, every time

And Now The Real Work Begins: A Healthy Jaded Post

So remember around Christmas when I hurt my back and found out it was because an angry, toothy alien was residing in my spine and was manipulating my body like a puppet master? And I had to go to physical therapy and not work out on my own?

Right, so I decided to use all of that as an excuse to gain back a whole bunch of weight and eat a bunch of bad-for-me foods while not giving an iota of a fuck. I went from being in the low 170s to almost back in the 190s. It's truly a sad state of affairs.

Obviously there are other factors at play here that are hardly any of your business, but the fact remains that I'm a whale. A WHALE. A MOTHERFUCKING WHALE. And it's all my fault (although seamless.com, Domino's pizza and Netflix had something to do with it, too).

So I had to go back to basics, the things that worked for me the first time around. Enter my former personal trainer, Bryan Ortiz aka the Brooklyn Bad Ass, and his special brand of torture-disguised-as-fitness.

While I cried for Jesus, Bryan pointed & laughed & took pictures.

There's a long goddamned road ahead of me. I'm going to be stank, bitter, irritable and just downright nasty for at least six weeks as I retrain my brain and my body to embrace a healthy lifestyle again. And then I'm going to whine and cry and mope and overturn your desks and coffee tables in frustration. But eventually, I'll get back to normal. Whatever that is. Maybe.

You might want to steer clear of me until sometime after Halloween. Or Christmas, 2014.

*smooches...dreaming of pizza and cookies and gummy bears*
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OH MY!

I Remember Yoga: A Healthy Jaded Post

On Saturday, I decided that my back was feeling well enough to finally start yoga classes again. I dusted off an old Living Social voucher and strolled on over to Dou Yoga in Clinton Hill for their afternoon open level class. As instructed by my physical therapist, I let the instructor know about my back issues and all that before taking to the mat and assuming the position.

And well, it went as expected; I haven't taken a yoga class in about a year and I've been eating like a fool and sitting on my couch woe-is-me-ing about my back. So yeah, it hurt like a bitch.

Most of the time, I had to break formation to fold myself into child pose and take deep breaths. And cry a little bit into my mat. Every part of me wanted to roll up my shit and sneak out in the middle of the warrior poses--like a BAWSE--but some heffa was blocking my path to the door. So I stuck it out.

At one point, something I did angered my back to the point where sitting up straight was rather painful, the bad kind of painful, and I knew I was on the road to Overdid It-ville. But then, THEN, it was time for corpse pose, so I stifled the tears and told my back pain to shut the fuck up, and let go.

There was a moment when everything in me that was wound up tight unraveled. I had my eyes closed, legs akimbo, arms at my side, palms up, jaw relaxed, shoulders away from my ears, and my whole body unclenched. It was so serene, so peaceful, that I didn't know how to feel about it.

In fact, it scared me so much to be without worry for even a tiny moment, that my jaw tightened immediately and my old familiar aches returned.

Still, I had that great moment. Is that what happiness feels like? I've never experienced that before. Oh yoga, I can't believe we ever had to part!

*smooches...thinking of attending another class next week*
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here's hoping that yoga wasn't the culprit to my back all along!

Go On And Love Yourself

Yesterday during physical therapy, as I was trying to get through holding a plank for as long as possible TEN TIMES IN A ROW, I curled up into folded-leaf child pose and whispered to my body, "I hate you." Instantly I felt bad about that, but I meant it.

I hate that this body, the same one that showed such promise in modern dance all those years ago, could barely hold a plank for more than 11 seconds. And every time the PT stretched my piriformis muscle (GIRL I'm picking up so much in these sessions. Soon I'll be a freakin' PT!) I wanted to cry out, give up and go home.

It's just too much. It hurts so much. And yes, at that very moment of trying to compete all the plank reps, as well as at various times throughout the day, I hate(d) my body, for every thing it can't do and every things it does. It's clearly evident that I hate this body by the way I mistreat and mis-feed it. Somewhere along the way, my body and I had a falling out and have never sat at the table to talk it out. We only sit at the table to eat.

But those bitter thoughts aren't going to help me get through these sessions. I thought I'd be done by the end of May and instead it's looking like mid-July before I get a reprieve.



I'm trying to get to a place where I look in the mirror and smile at myself. A real genuine smile. I foolishly thought that male attention and validation would make me love my body but it didn't. I have to love it on my own terms. I'm not sure how to get there, but I'm looking to buy a ticket for that journey.

Folks, I want you to know that the only validation you need in life is your own. You need to go to bed at night at peace with yourself, knowing you fought the good fight, were kind to yourself and others, and really did your best. This is what I'm working on. This is what I want you to work on. I want all of us strutting down the street genuinely believing we are hot shit.

Can the church say Amen?

*smooches...realizing self-esteem is not my strong suit
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maybe I just need more suitors...or less gray pubes...

Bikini Summer?: A Healthy Jaded Update

Where to even begin? Last time we spoke I shared my MRI results with you and the fact that I was told to go to physical therapy to fix my back. I've been going (UGH!) but I've not found my groove yet and neither has the therapist. Frankly, this whole process is going way too slow for me. Every week I ask "Can I work out on my own yet?" and every week he laughs and says "Maybe in a few weeks." It's been a few weeks and still my gym membership is on pause. Fucking-motherfucking-fuck!

I did get a maybe on yoga, but he added that I should avoid any of the forward bends. (Well, there goes my social life. RIM SHOT. PUN INTENDED!!!) But, errr, isn't 50% of yoga forward bends? What would be the point of going? And there's still a definite NO on personal training and HIIT workouts, and a "change of subject" when I asked about socacize. PHYSICAL THERAPY IS THE DEVIL'S HANDIWORK AND IS RUINING MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. There, I just needed to get that out.

The better news is my eating has been okay. Not great, but I've not resorted to eating McDonald's again. I'd say that 80% of the time I'm eating well and clean and healthy. That other 20% happens when I'm stressed or PMSing or I've breathed in oxygen; these things trigger my desire for Haagen Dazs, pizza, wings and chicken mole tacos from Maya Taqueria on Vanderbilt. OH MY GOD I want one right-the-fuck-now! Sorry, I'm supposed to be focusing on the good.

I'm still making sure I eat breakfast most days; about 99% of the time. Today was the first day I bought take out at work in over a month (and it was just $3.50 for two pieces of jerk chicken and five pieces of plantains from Christie's on Flatbush...although I was so tempted to get a chicken patty with coco bread!). And I've almost completely stopped shopping at Foodtown in order to get fresher food at Trader Joe's. I feel okay about these changes (which seem to have become permanent changes) but I know I could be doing more.

And of course I need to be doing more in terms of eating right because my Nazi physical therapist won't let me train hard. He's all "I'm going to put this on the lightest weight and just give me ten reps real slow." ARGH!! HULK SMASH! I don't even break a sweat! I have to resort to putting the warm-up bike on a super-high resistance and "gunning it" just to feel like I did something. All that beautiful gym equipment and I'm in the therapy room doing pansy-ass leg lifts. LEG LIFTS!

Listen, I'm going away for my birthday, to a place where the sun shines so bright and makes you so happy to be alive. And all I wanted for my birthday was to be able to rock a bikini on the beach like a true badass, as a precursor to playing mas in the West Indian Day parade. This past weekend, I even bought the stupid bikini, and it looks okay as long as I stretch my torso, suck in my gut and never breathe, eat or sit. If I can do that I'll be the sexiest bitch in purple EVER.

This photo was Take-100 because I had to make sure and
give you the illusion of a fit Jaded body!

But I wanted to look MORE than okay and time is already running out. YES, I should just follow the therapist's orders and NO I shouldn't be so worried with my looks and instead focus on being healthy, but you know what? I DON'T CARE.

Don't be fooled, folks- I'm in this for the bragging rights. For the pure pleasure of making bitches cry when I walk in the room looking fabulous. If I can bench-press your mom or run up the steps at West 238th Street in Riverdale and not get winded as a result of working out, well, that'd be a nice cherry on top. But on the real? I just want to look fly!

*smooches...having a Come To Jesus meeting with myself*
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the good thing is, I still understand that it will take hard work to look and feel great; no easy outs for me. but sometimes, I do wish there was a pill...

The Sun Is Out! A New Day Is Here!

The only way I can ever get stuff done is to make lists--on Post-It notes, in notebooks, via StickyNotes on the desktop computer--everywhere I can I keep a list. Besides all of the things I have written out that needs to be done at the office before I go on vacation:

In case you thought I did SHIT ALL during the day

I have some lofty goals moving into the summer, both wellness- and career-wise, and even a few "fun-itiatives" too, and I don't mind sharing some of them here with you today.

1- Develop a few new short stories. I've been stuck on the same set of tales that I wrote for my stupid non-finished thesis and frankly, all of those characters are getting on my last nerve. It's time to move on.

2- Go three entire months of regular training and workouts: yoga, Pilates, dance and MAYBE a week or two of bootcamp. My doctor's main bit of advice after giving me the herniated disc diagnosis was "build up your core strength to avoid further injury." So that's my new mission in life. After the three months it should be old hat, no? I'll just be in the habit of working out and not have to be told? RIGHT?

3- Get back on that freelance horse. So if you have any leads to PAYING gigs, let a sistah know.

4- Update my wardrobe. For too long now I've been rocking my same old fat clothes, even though I've lost the weight. That's right, I'm walking around town looking schleppy every damn day. I guess I've just gotten to the point where I actually care about looking put together. Not fancy or anything, but it would be nice if my clothes fit me properly.

5- Commit to a paleo/primal life. For real. I've been floundering and letting a few setbacks stop me from eating clean all the time. This needs to stop. This will stop. I like my doctor but I'm not fitna put her child through college with my co-pays!

On this beautiful ALMOST spring day, what is on your LIFE TO DO list?

*smooches...longing to frolic in the sun*
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I get like this every spring; LONG LIVE THE SUN!

Jaded Photographs: March 2013 Edition

"Pancake Weekends"

Sometimes I look at pictures of Fat Raquel and think HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF?! But then I take a moment and remind myself that Fat Raquel is losing the battle for my life; Healthy Jaded is winning for sure. It's a crazy-tough battle, but Fat Raquel honestly doesn't stand a chance!

*smooches...opting to always be everything Fat Raquel was not*
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I did used to make some kick-ass pancakes, though...

Trial & Error: A Healthy Jaded Update

Here's what's been good: I've been eating breakfast everyday. While that is a huge accomplishment on my part all by itself, please hold your applause until I tell you how healthy and amazing my breakfast has been. Oh, wait, I guess I just did. So yeah, over the past month, I've made it a point to eat a breakfast loaded with good, lean proteins and healthy fats [insert crude joke about oral sex here]. I also tried to incorporate some grains in the beginning (Ezekiel bread was recommended] but it left me feeling bloated so I nixed that and substituted good carbs like sweet potatoes and plantains. Afterward I down four different liquid supplements: vitamin D, cod liver oil (fermented), evening primrose oil and B-12.

SIDE NOTE ABOUT THESE SUPPLEMENTS: The vitamin D doesn't really taste like anything and neither does the evening primrose oil. And the B-12 jsut has a Tussin-esque essence to it but I can manage. That fermented cod liver oil, though...GOD HELP US ALL. That shit is so disgusting! I mean, you think you know what it tastes like because you've probably taken cod liver oil pills in the past but no. NO. This isn't a pill, this is two teaspoons (in a shot glass) of LIQUID. FERMENTED. COD LIVER OIL. I can still taste that shit in the back of my throat hours after I've taken it. BLECH! Aaaannnnnddddd I think I may be allergic to it to boot! Ever since I switched over to the fermented oil (I was taking the regular Norwegian type before) my throat has felt weird and closed off. I stopped taking it this morning and opted for the non-fermented one, which I'll take over the next few days and see if I notice a difference. (Hopefully this won't lead to a visit to the ENT although, fuck it, let me schedule an appointment anyway.) Also, they're expensive!

So far this has helped me focus in the morning, so I make sure and get most of my tedious TO DO items done before lunch when my productivity and my energy levels are high.

What's not been so good: I'm still working on not snacking at work (it's tough when you know there's a whole drawer full of Swedish fish and potato chips just five feet away) and finding the right meal at lunch that won't induce the itis and help me continue to be productive until it's time to go home. Regulating my blood sugar after 12pm has proven to be my Achilles' heel. GRRRRRR!

I've also not conquered night-eating NOR have I managed to get to bed at a decent hour, and those are KEY in improving my overall health. And finally, I continue to struggle with committing to my physical fitness (in fact, I just froze my gym membership until April because let's be real- I barely go when it's nice out. Now that it's tundric weather? Fuggetaboutit!) and to reducing my stress levels via meditation. Basically I'm still not putting my emotional and mental health first.

In the end, will any of these things I'm doing improve my fibroid situation? I won't know until April after my physical & OB/GYN visit. In the meantime I will continue to press on and fight the good fight.

I swear, I'd better live to be a zillion years old after all this...

*smooches...playing scientist with my own body*
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here's where my science background comes in handy

Growing, Learning, Accepting

"You think it's going to be one moment that grows you up, but really it's like a thousand different moments. And when they happen, there's no going back." -Tara Webster, "Dance Academy"

*smooches...no end to how much I'm learning*
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not that I'll ever admit I'm a grown up. EVER.

Not Stopping

Like most folks, I'm sure a lot of you decided to "get healthy" this year "for real" because you're tired of your gut or whatever. Listen, I'm not here to judge; it's Friday and I promised only uplifting and helpful posts to cheer you on in your endeavors. But honestly if all you wrote down was GET HEALTHY without any real plan or guidelines in place, you're going to fail. I speak from experience.

I'm not going to preach to you about a Paleo/Primal lifestyle and I'm not going to force you to come to socacize with me or anything, but please know that you have to make realistic, practical and SMART plans for your new healthy life. And those plans should include some sort of food adjustments and body movements. That's it. That's the secret: care about what you put in your body and care about how much you allow your body to move and stretch.

Also, there's this:

It's pretty much all here...

You can do this. I am doing this so I know you can do it. I will not leave you behind and I will never be OK with you not loving yourself enough to get well. That's what real friends do. So what, you had a bag of chips today? Don't have one tomorrow. Don't give up, no matter how many times you trip up and wake up covered in red velvet cake crumbs. "Get Healthy" all you want--cold turkey, baby steps, whatever it takes.

And if you need a little push to move your tush from its permanent seat at your computer station...



You know I couldn't resist! But in my defense, nothing gets you out of your seat more than soca!

*smooches...hoping you will ALL join me on the Parkway*
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oh, did I not mention I was joining a mas band?