Blowing Up (In more ways than one)

Is it possible to physically feel your ass grow?

Seriously. I think I just felt it in my sleep last night. And no, it wasn’t my gas.

It’s like all the Halloween candy I had last month (and this one) finally decided it was going to plop it self into my butt (the right cheek to be specific).

I know some of you seem to think that since I came 5^th in that ridiculous fitness competition I must be staying on track and keeping healthy and eating clean (ah, the fantasies). Like I said last blog, I am kind of a one trick pony. I would like to say that post competition I had an epiphany or an awakening of sorts that led me to this fabulous fit lifestyle. But as you guessed – it didn’t last long.  I’m back to my old ways – actually I think I am worse. I am eating shit I used to totally stay clear from pre training. Like devouring a large bag of Ruffles chips and a glass of wine (or 3) at midnight…for no reason (other than I am a complete glutton with no self-control when it comes to food… or shoes).

As a result I have started to seek other ways to shake off the chunks I gained post training. Insert: “Dieter’s Tea” here.

Yup, I will admit, I have hit the bottom of the barrel and am now looking at teas to do the trick for me.

I should clarify for any of you readers contemplating the product, that by “Dieter’s Tea” – they really mean, “You will shit your intestines out the next day and of course only when there are absolutely no bathrooms around”. I’m telling you my ass hurt more from clenching my butt cheeks so tight to prevent Mount Vesuvius exploding than from all the training I did for the fitness competition.

Anyone with camera footage from the Shoppers Drugmart on Keele street last week will get first hand experience of me waddling down the shampoo aisle desperately trying not to spread my legs too wide while walking in hopes of avoiding a “cleanup in aisle 6”.

So I am thinking it’s time I add some more “athletic” things to my bucket list as it seems to be the only thing that actually holds me accountable to staying in shape. Funny that.

I may regret putting this down later on (who am I kidding – I know I will - but fuck it, I’m up for making an ass of myself all in the name of vanity).  So with that said.

#31 = Get inside the boxing ring and actually spar.

Crap! As I write this I am already regretting it.  Sigh…Good bye nose I paid so much for.

Sure I’ve been taking boxing classes on and off for the past 4 years but it’s a little different then getting in the ring with someone. For one thing the bag never hits you back.  The bag is more like a good friend – you know the kind who allows you to take out your frustrations on them, use them as…well, a punching bag and always stand (or in this case swing) by your side.  So to actually get into a ring where the likelihood of my punches landing are nil and the chances of someone hitting me back are high, is a bit nauseating. No cancel that – completely nauseating (I just threw up in my mouth thinking about it.) 

You know, for the most part I am okay with people hitting my body. When you grow up with Indian parents it’s kind of par for the course. Plus after all the fights my big brother and I got into as kids you’d think I had a stomach for this.  But the stomach is not the problem. It’s the face. The moment someone even lightly taps it, I get all Exorcist on their ass. Which I’m not sure in the ring is a good thing.

This sparring thing may prove to be a little bit more challenging than the fitness competition. At least then it was just me beating up my own body. Getting in the actual ring means someone else will take care of that for me.  Sigh….what am I getting myself into.

In addition to completely demolishing my face I have decided to add one more item to the bucket list as a compliment to this newfound saying “yes” to my life.

So #32: Take On Saying “YES” To Things For The Next 40 Days.

I should probably add a parentheses to that stating “within in reason” cuz I have some messed up friends who will gladly take this on in the sickest way possible.

As long as it doesn’t involve me eating horse shit (or any kind of shit for that matter) or sleeping with you (unless of course you are Rick Fox or Ryan Reynolds) I am throwing myself out there on a 40 Day Journey of Saying Yes.

Day 1 begins tomorrow (or maybe next week).  Okay, Okay, tomorrow it is.

Dear Lord what am I getting myself in to?

I’m sure there will be plenty to write about over the next 40 days. Tune in to find out.

The Agony of Da Feet

It’s been more than 2 weeks after the Half Marathon and my feet still aren’t talking to me.

Who ever thought running 21.5 km would actually be something good for you? Never mind those crack jobs who run a full marathon at 42km. I know I know – I’m one of those who put it on my bucket list and am now kicking myself in my ass (which since post fitness competition as been rapidly growing). Seriously – is it considered a cop out if I end it at having done 2 halves? They do add up to a whole… Don’t answer that.

Heading down to the course on race day, I was silently placing voodoo spells on my girlfriends for making me do this with them “in the spirit of fun!” Ain’t nothing fun about lugging my hairy brown butt out of bed at 530am for a 730 start time.  At this time I’d just like to point out to any of you race organizers reading this – starting that early on a Sunday morning is just plain mean. Don’t you realize I am barely coherent at that hour let alone ready to run 21.5km?

By the time we got downtown to the course I have to admit I started to get caught up in the excitement (22,000 people all lined up and raring to go will do that to ya). And when the gun fired and we all took off I actually felt exhilarated – running along with them all, cheering, clapping my hands, feeling like an Olympic athlete.  I mean, come on – how hard can it be if this many people signed up to do it?

But like the walking contradiction that I am, half an hour into the run I really started to question why the hell people do this? Really, how is pounding your body on pavement for over 2 hours STRAIGHT considered fun? Or good for you for that matter.   My body was already cursing me at the 5 km mark (maybe it was karma from cursing my girlfriends earlier in the day). And I still had another 16.5km to go. At this point I was truly regretting putting a Full Marathon on my bucket list and seriously considered consolidating my 2 halves to fulfill that item.

I will say that one good thing about these races, aside from the free water and Gatorade they hand out (for an Indian, free food and drinks are really the only reason we do anything) is that they have people called “Pace Bunnies” set up all over the course for you to follow. They’re supposed to keep you on track with the pace time you set out for yourself pre marathon. This would’ve been a great idea if our freaking Bunny actually kept the pace! Dude was like the Energizer Rabbit hopped up on Speed. There’s no way in hell he was keeping our pace time. And at some point we got so far behind Thumper, he was nothing but a set of floppy ears in the distance.

We now had to resort to relying on our senses (and the angle of the sun) to tell us our time and pace - cuz the avid runner that I am (not) forgot to where a watch on race day. 

At 1 hour into it I was thoroughly bored and through with running. I’m like a kid with A.D.D that way. I need constant stimulation and entertainment. And aside from the few musical bands scattered across the route – running on the flat pavement of the Lakeshore started to get redundant.

But by the time I saw the 19km flag, something happened. Some kind of internal switch flicked on and out of nowhere my feet started flying! Seriously. I had no control over them. They clearly detached themselves from my body and continued sprinting down the end of the race route.  As my feet took off, I started to envision that finale from “Chariots of Fire” and that cheesy theme song kept playing in my head (not the most motivating to run to I’ll admit but my brain was also doing it’s own thing).  I started to picture the crowd going wild as I neared the end, all the people who would be cheering me on at the finish line, there to greet me, hoist me up on their shoulders and jump up and down in slow motion as we celebrated my victory.

Sadly – none of that happened. I crossed the finish line by myself, did a lame half-assed jump (harder to do in slow motion – not to mention I looked like a total tool doing it alone) and then waited for my friends to cross.

But for all the pain and crankiness I had during the run – I have to say I felt pretty damn good afterwards. Another accomplishment. And the bonus – I beat my old time and shaved off more than 9 minutes from my last half marathon. Completed in 2:13:45.  

 Waiting for us beyond the finish line were tables of bagels, cookies, fruit and water bottles for us to refuel our bodies. And like the good Indian that I am, I made sure to stock my bag full of groceries for the week (I told you my peoples only do things for food). My mom, taught me well.

I’d like to say that I have continued and kept up with the running, but as you can guess from my last entry I’m kind of a one trick pony. Try things through and then leave it all behind. I sit here eating a bag of Twizzlers as I type this.  Sigh….memories of my training diet are long gone…as is that body.

But another thing knocked off (sort of). 

Next up: Applying to the Marilyn Denis Show as an “on-air contributor”.  It’s totally on a lark – but hey nothing ventured, nothing gained. More updates to follow.

This guy won the full marathon in 2:07:57 (kinda puts a damper on my half time)

Post lame half-ass slow motion jump

What you can't see is that I am hiding my bag of free food under the foil wrap

LOST AND FOUND…AND LOST AGAIN!

I’m a lousy blogger. There. I’ve said it. I know it’s been a kagillion days since my last entry and the fitness competition and people have been pressing me for updates. But I chalk it up to being in a food coma….and on vacation (Iceland, Paris, Barcelona and London).  So to my loyal fans – Mama apologizes and is now back on the wagon….well for writing at least. As for eating… that’s a whole other story.

Okay before I being to recap the insanity of the competition and the post debauchery I just need to clarify one thing. NO I AM NOT TURNING 40 THIS YEAR. If peeps read the first blog, I did mention Mama’s got plenty of time to complete this list. All right that’s all I need to say on that.

Now as for the rest….Dear God where do I even begin?

As many of you know the competition was scheduled for July 17^th. And the weekend before I decided to attend a posing workshop. I swear I never felt more judged than when I walked into that room.  It was a rainy Sunday (if any of you can even remember that far back) and I showed up wearing my comfy clothes, shorts, a hoodie and sneakers…apparently a bad choice. No one mentioned the wardrobe protocol before the training session.

The moment I walked into the studio full of ladies in their short shorts, bikini tops and stripper shoes, the woman coaching the workshop (who I might add was 48 and had the body of an 18 year old) totally gave me a disgusted once-over head to toe.  And it didn’t end there. For those of you that know me – I pretty much will talk to anyone (which for the most part is a good thing…except for that 1^st week in LA where the creepy old man across the DGA wanted to talk to me about cock-sucker lips and help me figure out why men want to fuck me so I could market that as an actress….but I digress).

As we sat there listening to the instructors talk to us about the right shade of tanning and to make sure to sleep with gloves on so you don’t drool on your hands and taint the tan job (I’m dead serious), I happened to turn over to one of the other contestants caught her eye and smiled. And I shit you not; she took one look at me, scowled and turned away. And that wasn’t the only one. I overheard that this other woman, who also looked smoking hot (this place would’ve been a guys wet dream) had 3 kids, so at the end of the workshop I went up to her and said, “I just wanted to say you look amazing and I’m impressed at your body especially after 3 kids.”  She just said, “I know. Thanks.” and turned away from me. I was beginning to feel a little bit like a leper. But I decided to give them all the benefit of the doubt and blame it on the food deprivation – I mean please, I know what bitchy hunger looks like. Plus it hurts my feelings less to think of it that way.

We proceeded to learn the obligatory poses: relaxed (which I might add is nothing of the sort), ¼ turns, back pose, frontal pose, the OMG I am going to vomit pose (okay that one’s just mine).  You know you wouldn’t think standing in my clear stripper stilettos (which I finally found by the way) would be that bad but I swear my thighs and my ass were on fire after the workshop (and this time it wasn’t due to my bad gas). That was like a workout in itself.

So we are now 6 days away from the competition and yes, I have let the craziness seep in a little. I wasn’t going to go to a tanning salon – that was just plain stupid. I am Indian for Gods sakes, we’re born tanned… and hairy – but that’s for a later entry. Ok, I will admit, I did buy a can of Coppertone Spray on Bronzer just to give me that little extra oomph. My lucky husband (or sucker depending on the day) was in charge of spraying my ass, back and thighs for me.  I am pretty sure nowhere in our marriage contract does it say “husband will vow to spray wife as she lies bent over newspaper”. But hey – what is a marriage for if not stuff like this? 

On the last day before the competition I was told to not have any water. One 500ml water bottle was what I was allowed to consume for the whole day. And believe me I savored that puppy. 

The morning of as I entered the St. Lawrence Centre for the Arts and walked backstage I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in this large room were men and women in their skivvies busy getting pasted by their trainers with a product called Dream Tan.  I swear they were darker than I (except I was born this way – I believe the clinical term for my shade is “darkie”).  And let’s not forget that the entire backstage corridor, building and dressing room walls were covered in plastic in order to protect it from the tan. Apparently this shit doesn’t actually stay on the body that well so whatever you lean on will be covered.  I felt like I was in an insane asylum…in more ways than one.

The only time 2 straight men in bikinis will be okay with rubbing each other down

The girls in the dressing room started to have me freaked a little – telling me I’d be too white on stage and I should go upstairs and buy the $40 2oz jar of Dream Tan.  And I will admit, I almost fell for it.  Thank God I stepped out of the building to clear my head.

That's my arm on the left (with the bronzer) and I am still whiter than the white chicks.

Things that continued to shock me:

• Wanting to use baby oil to add that extra glisten and being told that I should use the cans of Pam Cooking Spray instead that were all around the theatre (I’m not lying – these freaks were greased to the nines in this shit and ready for the grill);
• Bikini Bite – picture crazy glue in a roll on (this is to prevent your bikini from going up the      crack of your ass – which apparently you get points taken off for) Of course no one tells you how to get the gunk off afterwards…still a little chafed from that;
• The Pump Room – same as the Paste room, just scattered with weights and wreaking of bad onions (that many half naked bodies drenched in paste and Pam is enough to turn anyone’s stomach). 

The "Pump / Paste Room"

I didn’t realize how insane this actually was. I’ll admit I started to get caught up in the nervous energy backstage. These women were neurotic. And I thought actors were bad.  I had to keep reminding myself that I was doing this just for fun – not to place. Just for me. 

And the irony of it all: I WON 5^TH PLACE!! (And for the first time in my life, I WAS the whitest person on stage). Boy, were those skinny bitches pissed when I walked back with my medallion. 

I didn’t even wait for the evening to end. I literally walked my ass off stage right, got dressed and went straight to our favorite Italian Restaurant, Ferro (www.ferrobarcafe.ca) downed a whole pizza, 2 glasses of wine and went home on a rampage for chocolate. Realizing I got rid of any kind of thing in the home I decided to down the chocolate covered protein bar sitting in my pantry at midnight for dessert.

What you can't see is that this is the last slice of a full pizza

I am ashamed (and a little proud) to say it didn’t end there. Woke up the next morning went for brunch at High Park and had a large mochaccino, 3 poached eggs, one pancake, 4 strips of bacon, 2 sausages, 4 pieces of toast, and hash browns.  Followed by ice cream sandwiches (2), 2 bags of rice chips, and then later on a plate of vegetables, a wheel of Camembert with crackers ¾ of a bottle of wine (I thought Michael and I had shared the bottle till I found out the next morning he only had one glass, the rest I devoured). You would think at that point I would be in toxic shock and passed out. Nope. I proceeded to walk to the corner store at 9pm to get a bag of jujubes and a box of chocolate.  

Better than water

I wasn't lying...the power brunch

I think I hit my food coma at this point but I wasn't about to stop

Just needed a wee nap before the next meal

Back at it in no time!

I’d like to say that I've gotten back on the wagon of healthy eating but sadly I have lost complete control again. Amazing how long it can take your body to get into shape and how quickly you can pack the pounds back on. It could be all the baguettes and Brie and wine consumed in Paris, or the fish and chips (and wine) in London, or the copious amount of sangria and paella in Barcelona…or the fact that I am just a pig.  But at least I can proudly say that once I did get my dream body I wanted and even got a prize for it. Something someday grandkids can be proud of (I’m not saying they have to be mine).

So there is the last 49 days in a nutshell.

Volleyball took a part somewhere during those days but I still can’t really say that I “played” the sport. Hey, at least 2 things are knocked off the list.  Working on the 3^rd.  I signed up for a writing course through the city’s parks and recreations program. Turns out it’s held at a senior’s centre  - and I am the only one who’s not a senior – but hey, it’ll make for interesting material for my short. Oh and forgot to mention I am running a half marathon on Sept 26th. Being that I already ran a half marathon 2 years ago and this will be my second half, does that equate to running a full? 2 halves do make a whole right? In that case you can knock 4 things off the list soon!

And I know many of you have been asking to see pics from the competition and I have been reluctant to show them. But now that I no longer have that body maybe it’s good motivation to get my shit together - and stop eating shit (I'll save them for the end of the blog...to force you to keep reading...that's considering you've even made it this far).

Haven’t added new stuff to the bucket list just yet – with only a few more spots open I find myself being really precious about them and don’t want to list just anything. So if you have suggestions that will rock my world (and be feasible) feel free to holler.

Okay, I’m off to figure out how to get the plate of nachos, 2 glasses of wine, ½ zone bar and 8 chocolate covered graham crackers out of my body.

More to come – this time more regularly…I hope.

PS. I met a super lovely trainer named Jane Clapp at an event for Caitlin Cronenberg (David Cronenberg’s daughter) who has a fantastic blog and a great approach to fitness and health. You can read about her at: ihearttosweat.blogspot.com and visit her site at www.urbanfitt.com 






And now for the reveal...

Losing It!!

I’m losing it!! 9 days left to go and things are worse than they began.

Not only is my self discipline failing me (I’m not even going to insult you with the copious amount of crap I consumed on set …..let’s just say craft services became my new best friend) my body is also falling apart. Somehow, somewhere I tweaked my lower back (maybe it was attempting to do some of my own stunts on set – how Wonder Woman did it in heals is beyond me). Add to that my knee hurting (the good one at that) and I am a walking mess. Isn’t exercise and healthy eating supposed to keep you healthy?

Oh and let’s not forget the anxiety I am starting to have as I realize I am 9 days away from having to parade myself in front of hundreds who plan on judging my body as I stand next to people who actually took this training seriously.

On top of all this, I am now starting to crave shit I normally would never consume. And I’ll be honest –I’ve caved a few times. Like last Saturday.

Somewhere between Chaka Khan and Cyndi Lauper (Jazz Festival meets Pride Weekend) I managed to find myself in front of a street meat truck. And I lost it. Not only did I get a chicken sausage with all the works, I managed to inhale the whole thing in a matter of seconds. (Please keep your “sausage swallowing” jokes to yourself– my parents read this).

And the other day I saw a commercial for Kraft dinner and I swear I almost licked the TV screen. My mind is playing a sick, sick game with me. I just keep telling myself all I need to do is get through the next 9 days…I might have to wire my jaw shut to do it successfully!

Now I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining all the time. There have been some plusses to this whole training process. Like being able to fit back into a really old pair of jeans. So what if they happen to be my 1987 Suzy Shier acid wash jeans – the fact that I can actually get my ass and thighs into them is a bonus.

2nd plus: some have said my skin looks like it’s glowing. I don’t tell them that it’s just sweat from trying to restrain myself from clawing the chocolate bar out of their hands and ramming it down my throat…(yes, I know I am just feeding you these - but please keep the throat-ramming jokes to yourself, need I remind you about my folks).

Plus # 3: I have actually found a new appreciation for lifting weights. There, I’ve said it. I like exercise….sometimes. I’ll admit, I am actually liking the way some of my muscles look (the fact that I have them in the first place is a whole other bag of candy…mmm….candy).

Now if I could only stay on track with the eating – as I write this I have just inhaled an oat bar from Starbucks and a granola bar both in the span of 20 minutes. Sucks that now this is the kind of food that makes me feel guilty....(sigh) 9 more days!

I am sure I will get a huge wake-up call when I go to the Posing Workshop next Sunday (ya – they have those too) and see how serious these women are. They’ll probably scoff at me as I fake my way around the stage trying to suck in my gut and some how find a magic way to lift my butt. But fuck it! Those bitches can kiss my hairy brown ass (ooh, that reminds me I need to book an appointment with my esthetician).

Apparently they will be approving our bathing suits (still debating wearing a full wet suit to the competition) and our shoes at this workshop. Did you know there’s a “classy” standard to those see-through plastic stripper shoes all the peelers wear?

Finding them is also a bit of a challenge. I had to walk into a big peeler store this week to scout out a pair. As I entered Seduction (it’s a big 2 storey everything to do with strippers shop) I was so praying no one I knew saw me go in. I could just hear all the rumors starting about Rahnuma and her underground job. Yet when I told the salesclerk what I was looking for and she automatically asked if it was for a fitness competition, I found myself getting offended she didn’t think I was a stripper. Clearly I am losing it.

And who knew a piece of cheap plastic slapped on top of another piece of cheap plastic would cost so much? Clearly the recession has had no impact on strippers. I may need to rethink my career - (just kidding Mom & Dad!).

Alright, back to the bucket list -

As for #10 (“Play a Team Sport”), I have my first ever beach volleyball game tonight. Team 19 C (we don’t have a name yet) will be playing 2 games at the Docks (one is not torture enough?).

Thanks to a blog follower I now know how to keep the sand out of my toenails. Apparently all you need to do is run a bar of soap under your nails before you go to the beach. The chunks of soap will block out the sand. I only have liquid soap in my place – not sure it’ll work the same –but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained!

I might add I have not touched a volleyball since my last clinic (not that I touched it much during the clinics) so this should be a whole new level of interesting. Stay tuned for updates on black eyes and bruised noses. I’m still seriously thinking of wearing a caged helmet…though the tan lines could be a bitch.

And I’ve finally come up with a few more additions to add to what seems to be a never-ending list. So here it goes:

28 Participate in a Flash Mob – They look so cool and end up with a ridiculous amount of hits on the web. Who knows, maybe that’ll be my ticket to fame.
29 Try to get a 20 year old to hit on me (that came courtesy of Karitsa). – Though if I am trying to do it, does it really count? And at what point does one become a cougar?
30 Jump out of a plane – I actually already did but it was static line (where the chute automatically opens for you). According to hard-core divers that is the pussy way to jump. So tandem it will be.
31 Work on an Ed Burns Film – This may be a little trickier to do - but hey, I’m not beyond stalking. And Ed, if you happen to be reading this blog – Mama’s got some ideas for your next film.

Stay tuned for updates on the competition – and if I’m feeling brave enough, maybe even a few pics.

4 Weeks & 2 Days!

This is the stupidest thing I’ve done. Really – who gets a kick out of this kind of training? And for what? To stand up on stage in front of people who will judge you based on your body – isn’t that what we as women have fought for years to abolish? And people pay to do this shit!

Sure some are in it for the prize money and a shot at having a fitness-modeling career. And then there’s me – who decided to take this on to see if I actually had the discipline to get my body into shape and eat well.

I’ll tell you right now, I don’t. This sucks!! I am hungry all the time and getting crankier by the day! And all I keep thinking about is the copious amount of food I am going to consume on July 18th. All I know right now is it will most definitely involve wine and some form of cheese. After that, the world is my oyster. Okay maybe not oysters – they make me nauseous (which I guess defeats the whole purpose of it being an aphrodisiac seeing as I’d end up vomiting all over my date).

And my eating is going from bad to worse. You would think with only 4 weeks and 2 days left to go I’d kick it into high gear. Nope.

Had a conversation with a lovely nutritionist last Friday who told me that if my body was craving something it’s probably because it needs it. So I took that as a sign to eat ½ a container of Planters salted peanuts (for someone who has eliminated salt from their diet I’ll admit it did make me feel a little prunish after) 2 trail mix granola bars sitting in the pantry and a plate of pad thai…. I’m guessing that’s not what she meant. But damn it – I was cranky, hungry and feeling sorry for myself - so I caved.

And it didn’t stop there. I was at an event on Saturday night and doing so well when it came to the food. Stayed away from the bread, ate just the meat and veggies. But by midnight I lost all self-control and ate 9 mini biscotti dipped in chocolate mousse. I managed to convince myself that I was actually being good by not eating the whole bowl of chocolate mousse. Never mind that I triple dipped each biscotti in it with each bite…. Sigh, 4 more weeks is what I keep telling myself – 4 more weeks.

As mentioned in my last blog, I also signed up to play beach volleyball this summer (a sport that looked more glamorous on TV than it actually is). And being the keener that I am, I registered for 3 beach volleyball clinics thinking they’d make me a pro before my first game – or at least look like less of an ass on the court.

Had someone told me ahead of time how dirty you actually get playing the sport - and that it’s virtually impossible to get that darned sand out of your toenails – I might have rethought this goal (remember my whole OCD situation). But like the fitness competition – I paid for it so I am committed till the end of the summer. For those looking for some entertainment this summer, stop by the Docks - I’ll be the one aimlessly running around the beach with a big tub of wet wipes, hand sanitizer and sand socks.

Now I am sure some of you are thinking “Come on Numa, you must have learned something from the clinics”. You’re right, I have. That it’s really hard to teach someone who has spent the majority of their life with poor hand-eye coordination to actually get it. Man do I suck! Thankfully I found the only other person in the entire clinic who was actually just as bad as I was and partnered up with them. It’s amazing what playing with someone who stinks will do for your ego. 2 clinics later and I still have damn sand in my toes! Any suggestions?

As far as coming up with more on the list of 40 things before 40 – I’ve hit a wall. This training is not only killing my body (really, who does this for fun??) it’s sapping my creativity. So I am reaching out to you folks for some suggestions. I’m open to it all (except oysters – do we really need to go there again).

So send me your suggestions, creativity is a plus – and stay tuned to see if yours makes the list.

Back to fantasizing about my July 18th feast. Maybe I’ll hold a viewing party of my gluttony in action.

And Then There Were 27

Okay it’s well over 2 months since my 1^st blog (hey, I warned you I am an eternal procrastinator). But I’m sure you are all chomping at the bit to hear the progress… Don’t ruin my fantasy if you weren’t!

Truth be told I fell off the wagon – in more ways than one. 

This whole Fitness competition training has started to get to me. Who knew eating so healthy could make you so cranky. Don’t believe those people that tell you otherwise – it’s all a part of their brainwashing scam. I swear the day after this competition (July 17^th) I am sinking my teeth into a pound of Brie and downing a vat of wine. I actually have this fantasy of eating the way Friar Tuck does on “Rocket Robin Hood” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebsSyfHaIRY&feature=related) - a little throwback to my fellow Cannucks.

Yup that’ll be me. Totally defeating the whole purpose of doing this fitness competition in the first place. But damn it, I’m cranky and all Mama really wants right now is a bag of Doritos and that amazing banana chocolate chip loaf that keeps crying out to me all the way from the counter at the coffee shop where I sit and write this. Instead I have a cup of coffee (3/4 decaf ¼ caf) and feel guilty cuz I added milk to it.

But I digress. I will get you up to speed with what’s been transpiring on both the bucket list and this whole fitness competition training (which sounds way more glamorous than it is). If I really thought this through before I paid for the competition I don’t think I would’ve done it. I haven’t worn a bikini in 3 years and for some bizarre reason I paid to stand up on stage in front of hundreds of people in one?! Not to mention standing next to women who for them, fitness modeling is their life. Umm, anyone offering free lobotomies? 

All right, back to the updates:

 The night before my first personal training session with Trainer Nick (for those of you in LA looking for a good ass whooping you can check him out at www.nickfitpro.com) I kinda felt like this was my last time to indulge. The final time I will be able to enjoy the foods I do so much till July 17^th.  And like a good person in training would - I consumed everything in my fridge that I knew I’d no longer be able to touch for the next 3 months. It was my “Last Supper” if you will….and desert….and cocktail. 

Seriously there has got to be some kind of chemical imbalance in my brain! 

I knew that eating the entire block of cheese in the fridge along with the half bar of Ritter dark chocolate with hazelnuts and the bag of pita chips with the tub of roasted red pepper humus and the remaining half bottle of wine was not the “healthiest” of ideas before my 7am training…but so what! Don’t judge me. We all have our ways of saying “goodbye” to the things we love….and I clearly needed my alone time with my food. 

So yes, I was on the verge of vomiting from the indulgence (not to mention a bit drunk off the now empty bottle of wine – which I went to bed cuddling) but at least I got my goodbye. 

 I was on a mission to start fresh. Tomorrow the new me (or Numi as y’all call me) would emerge. Determined to eat clean, be strong, focused on a contest training diet.

 What part of my brain thought this was going to be a fun challenge?? And why didn’t any of you stop me before I committed. You clearly must relish in seeing me suffer you sick, sick bastards.

  For those of you that know me, food is my lover, my champion, my friend, my cheerleader and my drug of choice. And for this candy loving, cheese indulging, sweet potato fry loving girl….diets just never work. As seen when I returned back to Toronto from LA and completely fell off the wagon.

 3 weeks later, though Mama’s getting back on (I write this after binging on candied nuts…which I am now realizing give me really bad gas) and man it’s harder once you’ve fallen.  But one look at the pictures of these fitness competitors is enough to light a fire under my ass (which is now easier to do thanks to the gas).

 And with only 7 weeks left to go (remind me again why I chose this as my launch of My 40 Things Before 40?) I don’t have a choice. Unless of course the choice is to go up there and make a complete ass of myself….which is still a possibility at this stage.

 Along with this temporary phase of fitness insanity I also signed up to play beach volleyball (remember #10 on the 1st list: “Play a Team Sport”). Yup, miss “no hand-eye-coordination-no-depth-perception” bit the bullet and will officially start playing in July. 

Knowing what a klutz I am by nature I also signed up for a beach volleyball skills clinic. Especially since the last time I ever played the sport (I use the term “played” loosely as anyone who saw me can attest that “playing” the sport was the last thing I did) all I kept doing was running away from the ball yelling “Yours!” instead of what your supposed to do - like hit the freaking thing and call “Mine!” So stay tuned for the black eyes and broken nose stories to come. Can you wear a caged mask on the volleyball court?

 Now back to the Bucket List.

 Re assessing my 16 out of 40 things I want to do before 40 I started to panic a little. In a state of “gung ho” energy I happily wrote away imagining all the fun things I can accomplish, not really thinking them all through clearly – you can see this is a pattern in my life.  So in an attempt to actually be able to get through this list I’ve come up with more things to do before I am 40 that might be easier to tackle.  

So below are my 11 more things to do before 40 - bringing my bucket list up 27 so far.

1.  Take a pottery class - I’ve always wanted to recreate that scene from the movie “Ghost”, but the only way I’d be able to drag my husband to a class where there was mud and molding would be if it came with ring and women in bikinis wrestling in it. So solo it will be.
   
2. Bungee jump – something about being thrown off a bridge with nothing but an elastic band holding you by the feet is a bit titillating…or stupid. But hey you only live once – and if things go wrong at least I went out on a bang….or in this case a bounce.
3.  Get my motorcycle license – cuz deep down inside I secretly want to be a Bad Ass Biker Mama.
4.  Learn to ride a bicycle again. You know that whole saying, it’s like riding a bike, you never forget. Guess who did?  Plus I figured it’s probably a good idea to be able to balance a 10 speed before I tackle balancing a motorcycle.
5.  Get a tattoo – part of the whole “Bad Ass Biker Mama” fantasy.
6.  Play a song on the guitar – Remember what it was like to sit around a campfire with all the cool kids from high school and watch the popular boy serenade you on his guitar? Ya, me neither. But shit, at this point I am struggling to find things to add to my list - so play a song on the guitar it is.
7.  Learn to play the guitar – would help with # 22.
8.  Write a short story or a short film (I never said a “good” short story or script – just writing the freaking thing).
9.  Roam around the city for a day with my camera and take as many random pictures as I can. I’m more of a capture-everyday-people kind of photographer…so depending on what neighborhoods I roam in, I may end up with a few bruises…or in the river with bricks tied to my feet.  But hey, nothing ventured nothing gained.
10.  Try to get “My 40 Things Before 40” published somewhere – I’m not picky. Hell, even the back of a bathroom stall is fine with me. Think of it as my contribution to your potty time. Anyone got leads - Mama's got the goods
11. Somehow get my way on to a float for the Pride Parade (thanks Kathy for that one). Plus with my morning transvestite voice I got going on I should be a shoe in. Those of you with Pride connections - holler back.

All right back to fantasizing about blocks of cheese, vats of wine and boxes of pizza I go…(sigh) 7 more weeks! 

Stay tuned for more torture updates.

My Bucket List...Sort of

I’m creating a bucket list. 

And not one for when I die. 

Please, I know myself. I am an eternal procrastinator. If I created a bucket list for the things I’d want to do before I die – I’d die before I actually got them done. And being blessed (or cursed depending on what side of the pendulum you swing) with strong genes in our family - my peoples are known to live till their 90’s (late 90’s at that too) I’m probably not gonna kick the bucket any time soon. Which would mean I’d just have another 60 some years of procrastination ahead of me. 

So, I’ve decided to create a bucket list of “40 Things I Want to do Before I am 40” (for you nosy parkers…just know mama still has some good years left on her before she hits those digits).

 Plus, if I put it in writing and tell it to the world I’ll feel accountable to the millions of readers who’ll be tuning in each week to see my progress…or just to my folks (who’ll probably be the only ones reading this regularly).

 I actually came up with this idea the night of my birthday (December 30^th for those who still want to send presents!). But like the procrastinator that I am it took me until March to actually commit to it. 

Besides, coming up with 40 things is a lot harder than I thought.

Right now I am up to 16. Of course there was a part of me that was like don’t bother posting this until you come up with your list…but…well you know what the outcome would be of that.

So here goes.

In no particular order – except the fitness competition cuz I just paid for it. I knew if I didn’t drop the dough I’d never get it done. And truth be told I’m getting a little tired of not being able to tell what color underwear I am wearing cuz my belly blocks the view. Now I know some of you are like “Easy solution Numa…don’t wear underwear.” But for those of you familiar with my OCD – underwear in an integral part of my day.

So I have for you my 16 out of the 40 Things I Want To Do Before 40:

1. Travel to Mauritius. Wanted to save it for a special occasion like our honeymoon – until we found out it was going to take us giving up all 4 of our kidneys… and my ovaries (are they even functioning at this point?) just to fund the trip. FYI – My Big Fat Monsoon Wedding also came with a Big Fat Bill at the end of it. So to Cabo we went.
2. Learn to play tennis so I can hold my own with those people who actually play in the summer time and look all cute in those short white skirts…(I hate those bitches!)
3. Compete in a fitness competition – so I can actually look good wearing those short white skirts.
4. Audition for "So You Think You Can Dance" as the oldest contestant ever on the show…I plan to be the Cloris Leachman of the series.
5. Learn to Dance (would help with achieving number 4).
6. Re-learn to knit…yes it is possible to unlearn something as quickly as you learnt it. I did once knit a scarf... that gradually grew into an afghan. I think I still have the needles deep in the trenches of my closet.
7. Go visit my sponsor child in Senegal. Believe it or not I actually thought she lived in Rwanda up till now, when I just got up from my computer to look at the World Vision card…and you wonder why I haven’t had kids yet.
8. Run a marathon (hey anything to make my legs look good in those tennis skirts).
9. Have a fundraiser for Apne Ap  - an organization in Bombay that helps children of prostitutes living in brothels by providing them with education and tools to help end the intergenerational cycle of prostitution. (The one thing I am not doing for myself…See – I’m not so me centered).
10. Play a team sport…if you know me; you know I have absolutely NO hand eye coordination…or depth perception for that matter…guess that makes learning tennis tricky too.
11. Spend a few months in another country learning their language and cuisine…I know – Me cook? And in another language at that? Miracles can happen kids.
12. Take a photography class so I can actually document this insane journey I’m doing.
13. Write a blog (OMG!! I’m doing that as we speak. Check one off the list).
14. Perform stand up somewhere…remote…probably in Senegal while visiting my sponsor daughter where no one knows me (so when I bomb it won’t feel like a total embarrassment).
15. Dance in a Burlesque Show.
16. Sing back up on stage in someone’s rock band….I say rock band cuz hopefully the percussion and electric guitar will be loud enough to drown out my shitty vocals (did I mention I can’t sing?)

 Okay still working on others but for now Mama's got her hands full.

Stay tuned for updates on training for the fitness competition...ugh!