- Joined
- Feb 24, 2019
Here is a teaser of a long ass post i'm making:
Hit a motherload of stuff she did at Sprinklr and previous jobs.
Hit a motherload of stuff she did at Sprinklr and previous jobs.
Anna o' Brien / Glitter + Lazers / GlitterandLazers - Fat, drunk, consoomer attention whore who would rather eat and drink herself to death than endure a single negative emotion
- Thread starter THOTto
- Start date
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2016
Anna moved into an apartment next to an empty field. Likely with signs up, saying it was to be sold or had been purchased by a commercial entity.
She’s been in that apartment a year, and it takes several years to permit, engineer, and plan whatever is going in there. Long story short-she knew this day was coming and still chose to live there-now she’s whining like a toddler. It is alarming to hear Anna is litigious, (I somehow missed that) as her apartment complex could be next on her list. Hopefully, they put warnings in about future construction in whatever she signed, even though it was plain as day. Don’t move across from an empty field in an up and coming town.
Not a powerlevel but I once knew a woman who sued every place she worked for sexual harrassment. It blew my mind, because she was like 60, unattractive, unfashionable, and a person nobody would look at and want to fuck. Yet she sued everybody who hired her-everybody. She had her PhD in something or other so unbelievably she kept getting hired. (Maybe there were non-disclosures?) This was years ago, she had a bit of a nest egg I imagine, but I never heard what happened to her. I also knew a person who got into several car accidents and sued somebody in each one, and also had a slip and fall type suit. Now maybe they were legit, but most people go their entire lives never suing anybody so it’s quite a coincidence. This chick is living in the Carribean now. My understanding is she fucked up somehow and is broke again (thanks FB) but she can’t sue to get out of it this time and doesn’t want to leave so found a job.
Point is: the stereotype about Americans suing is sometimes true. It doesn’t surprise me that Anna has lawsuit and go away money, and I hope the people who are doing this construction are protected.
If the next thing after grading is pile driving, Anna will lose her shit. A couple weeks of that is hard for even a mentally healthy person. maybe it’ll be time for another Disney trip because I can believe that two weeks of 8 hour days of pile driving will tear the last shreds of Anna’s fragile sanity.
She’s been in that apartment a year, and it takes several years to permit, engineer, and plan whatever is going in there. Long story short-she knew this day was coming and still chose to live there-now she’s whining like a toddler. It is alarming to hear Anna is litigious, (I somehow missed that) as her apartment complex could be next on her list. Hopefully, they put warnings in about future construction in whatever she signed, even though it was plain as day. Don’t move across from an empty field in an up and coming town.
Not a powerlevel but I once knew a woman who sued every place she worked for sexual harrassment. It blew my mind, because she was like 60, unattractive, unfashionable, and a person nobody would look at and want to fuck. Yet she sued everybody who hired her-everybody. She had her PhD in something or other so unbelievably she kept getting hired. (Maybe there were non-disclosures?) This was years ago, she had a bit of a nest egg I imagine, but I never heard what happened to her. I also knew a person who got into several car accidents and sued somebody in each one, and also had a slip and fall type suit. Now maybe they were legit, but most people go their entire lives never suing anybody so it’s quite a coincidence. This chick is living in the Carribean now. My understanding is she fucked up somehow and is broke again (thanks FB) but she can’t sue to get out of it this time and doesn’t want to leave so found a job.
Point is: the stereotype about Americans suing is sometimes true. It doesn’t surprise me that Anna has lawsuit and go away money, and I hope the people who are doing this construction are protected.
If the next thing after grading is pile driving, Anna will lose her shit. A couple weeks of that is hard for even a mentally healthy person. maybe it’ll be time for another Disney trip because I can believe that two weeks of 8 hour days of pile driving will tear the last shreds of Anna’s fragile sanity.
ShoopaFupaDoop
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2019
Oh man, that's a presentation back from when she worked at Citibank. That should be good.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2019
Whenever I hear shit like this, I think (purely from observation in the wild) that Anna was in fact the sexual harasser. She's very similar in behavior to Chantal (and quite a few fat, poor hygiene SPEDS I've seen).
If a man looks/coughs/asks directions:
* He wants her
* He's sexually fantasizing about her
* He's obsessed with her
* He can't take his eyes off her
* Gee, should I go talk to him? Whaddaya think, guize?
It's a dead giveaway (if you haven't see/smelled the poor hygiene) with these fat SPEDS that NO ONE finds them attractive. It's a huge cope and a huge red flag that no one has rattled them hard enough (or yet) to STOP bothering other people--women included--if they're bi or lesbian. Both Anna and Chantal are so off putting with their inappropriate behavior and mannerisms without even getting into their off putting physical appearance and hygiene.
Every time I see talk about Anna and Sprinklr, I'd bet a month's paychecks SHE was the persistent sexual harasser in this equation. She was likely told in no uncertain terms to get to work and LEAVE PEOPLE ALONE.
Anna's empty head: 404: Directive not found. That guy totally wants me!
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2021
There can be a hereditary element to some mental illnesses, as well. I think that could be a factor here.
I also think it's possible that Anna doesn't see her mom in herself and actually believes she's doing everything she can to not end up "like that". It's something in the forced joyfulness, the too-intense workouts, the emphasis on being a Career Gorl. There's something in it all that seems brittle, like she's ready to shatter into a million shards that will seek the softest places of anyone who has ever made her hurt.
- Joined
- Jan 19, 2021
You don’t say Anna...
Missanthrope101
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Feb 17, 2020
I'm curious how she lived in fucking NEW YORK CITY and can complain about this construction noise. NYC is literally never quiet. There's constant street noise/sirens/beeping. Seems like ear plugs would be a much cheaper alternative to buying a new house.
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2019
So Anna's blog online used to date back to the early 2011s til she did a massive delete to hide all her failed diets, etc. Using that lovely FPH blog I tracked back a ton of shit landed on her slideshare....her linkedin....so many places...It was like Dr. Seuss's "The Places You Will Go" I have seen things I will not unsee I have looked into the abyss and survived and I've been informed by the abyss that I will die in 7 days if you all don't watch this...wait...wrong abyss....
It's sad in a way she really was on track she looks almost normal in some pics and the majority of the content was about her slowly losing weight. Also realized while writing this once a researcher always a researcher its LONG.
Our Journey will begin with a lovely detour to Posts of Years Past AKA Posts Anna wishes the world never saw again:
Her site began as a collaboration between her and a man. She was Glitter and HE was Lasers.
Coming Next the Biggest Loser Resort and when she randomly returns to Sprinklr as a Director position after disappearing to the uk for months!
It's sad in a way she really was on track she looks almost normal in some pics and the majority of the content was about her slowly losing weight. Also realized while writing this once a researcher always a researcher its LONG.
Our Journey will begin with a lovely detour to Posts of Years Past AKA Posts Anna wishes the world never saw again:
Her site began as a collaboration between her and a man. She was Glitter and HE was Lasers.
Glitter’s Dreams:
- Wear a bikini in public ( and look sexified)
- Eliminate the dreaded “chub rub”
- Remember what full feels like. Not stuffed. Not hungry. Full.
- Ride on an airplane with the armrest down and have room to spare.
- Meet Mr “Maybe Dark, Definitely Tall, and of Course Ridiculously Handsome”
- By clothes in a exceptionally expensive store and not have the sales associate give me the “bitch please” look
- Learn to like the taste of water
- Sit crossed legged or cross my legs and be comfortable
- Run a mile with out running out of breath
- Dye my hair a ridiculous color ( Blue? Purple? Pink?)
- Get a puppy and name him data, after Goonies, not Star Trek
- Build an adult size cardboard box fort
- Backpack through Europe
- Wear normal size clothes
- Eat cake and not feel guilty
- Hold a baby koala
- Have baguette fight in front of the Eiffel tower
- Ride a camel, in a foreign country wearing fancy dessert clothes
- Help chubby kids beat it young so they don’t end up like us
She started work in Sprinklr in May 2012. By July she was already hounding employees and posting images of them on her blog.July 2012
August 2012
"Dear readers of my blog, I have a problem. See even though I am 100% committed to making this work, focusing on the positive, and committing to an all around healthy lifestyle- I have one little bad habit I cannot seem to shake (LIES: I have many bad habits I am in the process of shaking. But, sometimes I feel my a posts could use a little flourish here and there for dramatic effect). I am addicted to crappy, some-what unknown products that claim to magically make you lose weight faster. All you need to do is slap the words “metabolism enhancer” or “calorie burner” on the package and I am in like Flynn. I’ll take one…. Hell, who am I kidding. I’ll take 3."
"I suppose the only way I will ever beat those angsty, mega-witch moments that always seem to drive to food, then booze, and on a really bad night a couple of smooches with a random I have no interest in **cough** last night **cough*** is to figure out why I always turn to food."
"Those of you that follow me on FB know that I am preparing for a marathon. Yes, running. Running. Running. It sucks. But it’s a necessary evil." (Oh look shes a Ragan...)
Work Office Photo
"I apparently have bone spurs, one of which chipped off and is literally doing the backstroke in and around my foot fat. I potentially also have some tendon issues, but I have to fork over another $50….errr…. go back next week for another visit to find out for sure what is causing the majority of the pain."
November 2012
"Below are the top 5 highlights from the last 2 months:
"I have a wonderful group of individuals I met while auditioning for the Biggest Loser. Since being rejected (those casting directors don’t know a good thing when they see it), we’ve continued to email and keep in touch." (She never auditioned she made her followers help pay for her to go a week long vacation at the resort for about 4 grand)
January 2013
"When I was about 7 years old I can distinctly remember sitting on the end of my mom’s bed and lecturing her on what a horrible mother she was because we were going to Cape Cod on vacation instead of Disney World. I told her it was her God given responsibility to take me see to the house of mouse. I pleaded I was the only child who had ever been denied such joys. Knowing how weird a kid I was, I probably made a business presentation on why Disney World was good for a child’s health. You’re probably thinking, ” oh she’s making this up.” I am not. I swear someday I will interview Papa Glitter and he will tell you all about how I use to prepare formal presentations to persuade. My parents were constantly presented charts, facts, and other secondary research on why having a pet hedgehog, going to Disney World, attending military summer camp ( I know wtf?) or giving into whatever crazy thing I was pursuing at the moment was for my betterment. Truth be told this followed me to high school where I wrote an elaborate “dissertation” on the dangers of block scheduling- boldly titling it “Block Scheduling- BS Says IT All” and hand delivering it to the head of the school district. I digress, but really I was a very weird kid. My parents caved to a lot of my weird tendencies. For example, I got a pet hedgehog, but I never did go to Disney World."
February 2013
"If you are plus size this is so so so important. Why, you might ask? Because we jiggle. If you’ve ever been active you can feel your fleshy mass go up and down with your body. If you’ve got some cushion, it’s like your body constantly feels like it’s at the worlds series every time you exercise-It loves to do the wave. Compression clothing sucks in some of that jiggle and makes running feel more in control. I have tried a million times to run and my jello-y bits have always flapped and in some instances been painful and hard on my body. However, during today’s run, wearing compression gear things kept in place as I moved and that added pain was gone."
<There is a post about how bad her teeth are with pics shes had some serious work done before she made it to the size she is now>
Her Mother and Sister
"My Mother passed just short of her 52 birthday in 2003. She had gotten sick and her body couldn’t fight the illness. Her death certificate listed her official cause of death as “morbid obesity.” My sister Katherine died in June of 2011, a result of long term weight related issues. Neither my mother nor my sister had ever been tremendously healthy people. I fervently believe that both their deaths were a result of their poor food, exercise, and general health choices. And those choices will affect me for the rest of my life. I lost most of my family. I am constantly envious of the relationships my friends have with their mothers and sisters. I am constantly fearful that I too will die young. Sometimes I feel the only thing I really have to remember them by is the ton of shitty habits I am fighting tooth and nail to break. I don’t want anyone else to ever feel this type of pain.
Now it kills me is every time I see a plus size site that advocates being severely overweight as a healthy lifestyle alternative (the link is an example). I get livid. BEING OBESE SHOULD NOT BE SUGGESTED AS A HEALTHY WAY TO LIVE. That’s why they titled the state of being so (morbidly obese) a synonym for “deathly fat.” Instead of focusing on any weight as being “healthy”, we should encourage people to be active, exercise regularly, and eat a balanced diet."
"For the past 5 years I have had a semi-irrational fear of getting stuck in the bath tub. It all started when I just got too big to really enjoy taking a bath; laying in the tub became more uncomfortable than relaxing. True panic was born when I read about President Taft having to be freed from a basin back in ye olden days- and on the day of his inauguration no less! This of course led to a terrifying visions of my butt cheeks wedged between porcelain, and me screaming between gasps of tears “free me from this watery hell hole.”"
March 2013
"So last week when I was worrying about the fact I hadn’t been able to weigh myself on my scale, what eating out all week (even though I was doing 90 minutes of cardio daily to offset) would do, how I would afford skin reconstruction surgery and if I would ever reach a healthy weight and actually need that surgery- I said is enough is enough. I just need to calm the (edited) down. Like immediately. Because whatever got me in this state of crazy, wasn’t healthy. Allowing it to go on was going going to cause me to end up like one of those bat shit ladies with smeared red lipstick, in a fur house coat and slippers carrying a dead cat. I am not a cat person.
So I ran away. With less that 48 hrs notice I told my boss I need to cut loose for a few days, booked a flight to Rome, and just escaped."
April 2013
<She was already doing her weird wearing little clothing shit while working for Sprinklr>
May 2013
<Her Sexy Face>
"I felt that the only way to really calm my nerves this morning was to eat a cinnabon someone have “generously” left in the office kitchen. I used quotes there because I fully suspect some of the hotter ladies in the office might be concerned I am closing in on their their tales when it comes to my level of “damn-you-fine-ness” and are engaging in classic espionage of the diet variety. After I had eaten all the 880 calories goodness (yes that is how many calories one cinnabon has, you’re welcome), I turned to the bag of emergency Skinny Pop I keep hidden in the back of my file cabinet. Next thing I know, I am covered in nacho cheese, holding a milkshake and crying over the fact that I can’t find dunkaroos anywhere in this stupid city. I had binged."
June 2013
"So back to last week’s flight. I entered the cigar tube of a plane and groggily walked to my seat. I wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t all there. I started jamming my carry-on into the tiny overhead (because I’ll be damned if they have to plane check it). It takes me a second to realize it, but when I look down- it clicks. My destined seat partner, my compadre of sky times is severely overweight. He’s already got the seat rest pried up (because I am pretty certain he can’t even get it down). He looked completely terrified. I can see the fear in his eyes. This is a fat fliers worst nightmare; in his mind is running the words, ” CODE RED! ALERT! I have been sat next to a plus size passenger. Act cool. What are we going to do buddy? SQUISH AGAINST THE PLAN WINDOW. STALL THE FLIGHT!”
I knew instantly we would not both fit. I might fit well in a plane seat now, but I do need all of my seat- and it’s going to be a long time before I don’t. These pinto cars of the sky aren’t known for being spacious. Emotionally I was a mess. I was frustrated I was going to have to deal with our situation, because this man obviously was not the same type of fat flyer I had been.He was going to stare out the window as hard as possible, avoiding the situation we were in."
July 2013
September 2013
<She randomly moved to UK after the Feederism post>
August 2012
"Dear readers of my blog, I have a problem. See even though I am 100% committed to making this work, focusing on the positive, and committing to an all around healthy lifestyle- I have one little bad habit I cannot seem to shake (LIES: I have many bad habits I am in the process of shaking. But, sometimes I feel my a posts could use a little flourish here and there for dramatic effect). I am addicted to crappy, some-what unknown products that claim to magically make you lose weight faster. All you need to do is slap the words “metabolism enhancer” or “calorie burner” on the package and I am in like Flynn. I’ll take one…. Hell, who am I kidding. I’ll take 3."
"I suppose the only way I will ever beat those angsty, mega-witch moments that always seem to drive to food, then booze, and on a really bad night a couple of smooches with a random I have no interest in **cough** last night **cough*** is to figure out why I always turn to food."
"Those of you that follow me on FB know that I am preparing for a marathon. Yes, running. Running. Running. It sucks. But it’s a necessary evil." (Oh look shes a Ragan...)
Work Office Photo
"I apparently have bone spurs, one of which chipped off and is literally doing the backstroke in and around my foot fat. I potentially also have some tendon issues, but I have to fork over another $50….errr…. go back next week for another visit to find out for sure what is causing the majority of the pain."
November 2012
"Below are the top 5 highlights from the last 2 months:
- Was able to buckle my seatbelt on the airplane for the first time in years (no more shame covering cardigan for me!)
- Fit into my entire goal clothing collection and went from a size 28 to size 20 in pants and a 22/24 to a size 18/20 in tops.
- I’ve worked out 50% of the days and walked/biked/ellipticalled over 200 miles in the last 2 months!
- I no longer get out of breath moving, even going up multiple staircases
- Regained ability to sit cross legged- both like a boss lady in an 80’s movie and Indian style"
"I have a wonderful group of individuals I met while auditioning for the Biggest Loser. Since being rejected (those casting directors don’t know a good thing when they see it), we’ve continued to email and keep in touch." (She never auditioned she made her followers help pay for her to go a week long vacation at the resort for about 4 grand)
January 2013
"When I was about 7 years old I can distinctly remember sitting on the end of my mom’s bed and lecturing her on what a horrible mother she was because we were going to Cape Cod on vacation instead of Disney World. I told her it was her God given responsibility to take me see to the house of mouse. I pleaded I was the only child who had ever been denied such joys. Knowing how weird a kid I was, I probably made a business presentation on why Disney World was good for a child’s health. You’re probably thinking, ” oh she’s making this up.” I am not. I swear someday I will interview Papa Glitter and he will tell you all about how I use to prepare formal presentations to persuade. My parents were constantly presented charts, facts, and other secondary research on why having a pet hedgehog, going to Disney World, attending military summer camp ( I know wtf?) or giving into whatever crazy thing I was pursuing at the moment was for my betterment. Truth be told this followed me to high school where I wrote an elaborate “dissertation” on the dangers of block scheduling- boldly titling it “Block Scheduling- BS Says IT All” and hand delivering it to the head of the school district. I digress, but really I was a very weird kid. My parents caved to a lot of my weird tendencies. For example, I got a pet hedgehog, but I never did go to Disney World."
February 2013
"If you are plus size this is so so so important. Why, you might ask? Because we jiggle. If you’ve ever been active you can feel your fleshy mass go up and down with your body. If you’ve got some cushion, it’s like your body constantly feels like it’s at the worlds series every time you exercise-It loves to do the wave. Compression clothing sucks in some of that jiggle and makes running feel more in control. I have tried a million times to run and my jello-y bits have always flapped and in some instances been painful and hard on my body. However, during today’s run, wearing compression gear things kept in place as I moved and that added pain was gone."
<There is a post about how bad her teeth are with pics shes had some serious work done before she made it to the size she is now>
"This post is going to come off a little vain. It’s going to come off a little valley girl, who has everything complaining. It’s a little bit #WhiteGirlProblems. The above photo was taken about a year ago during a trip to Turkey. Please ignore the awesomeness of the scenery and the equally as awesome cat for another day. Focus on me. I am not an ugly girl.
While growing up fat was a challenge for me. Yes, I got teased in high school. Yes, my clothing choices were limited. Yes, I couldn’t do things I wanted to (roller coaster rides mainly). Yes, occasionally, I longed to be something I wasn’t. However, I never walked around with self loathing. When I looked in the mirror naked, I didn’t hate what I saw. To the contrary, I found my body beautiful. Even at my heaviest I was perfectly proportioned; I always had a beautiful face. I got asked on dates. Even more so, men would confess there love to me on the streets. Sure most of these guys where bat shit crazy, but the fact remains. I never have felt or been treated like I was ugly- even by myself.
I used to tell my girl friends that I was too happy to lose weight and for all intents and purposes it was kind of true. All the things girls babble on about when they write weight loss blogs or make healthy eating motivational images didn’t really apply to me. The photos of skinny girls in sports bras and fake tans weren’t motivation for me. I was not losing weight to feel sexy or dress slutty. In fact, I did not think to lose weight to be feel pretty, sexually desirable or socially acceptable; I already was. I never learned to hate my body. I never believed the people who told me I wasn’t beautiful; so many people regularly told me the opposite. I often felt like the prettiest girl in the room, even though I was the biggest. I had built a great career, great friends, and an amazing life for a person at any size. If women were cars I was the Bentley of plus size women.
However, after losing both my mother and sister in part to morbid obesity, the reality of being overweight really hit me. While I was happy, dated enough (you never goon enough dates, good ones are like unicorns), I realized that there were serious consequences to my actions. That’s a blog for another day, but the point is I instantly committed to a new life choice and everything started to change. That change has been hard.
My self-worth has become tied to a number of the scale. Everyday I scrutinize my choices and when the numbers don’t move I don’t just get angry- I loathe myself. That feeling of self-hate and disgust that most women feel towards their body on a semi-regular basis crept into my life. Even more so, after losing 80 lbs. My skin is starting to droop. I look into the mirror now, and instead of a beautiful body, I see weird wrinkles. My belly button is no long round, it’s a long oval- like a slot in a vending machine. I can feel that things just don’t sit properly in my body. They jiggle. And no matter how much lotion I put on or how many prayers I say, it’s not getting better. It’s getting worse.
For the first time in my life (or at least for as long as I can remember), I am learning what it feels like to hate myself. And what I have learned is that for women most self-hate doesn’t come from a man, society or anything external. It comes from our own unrealistic expectations to become our own version of perfect- what we “think” the above wants us to be. It’s usually what we are physically incapable of being; the things we “want” for. Whether it’s a tan sports bra wearing California dream girl or big busted curvy pin-up girl, we all have out own mental image of perfect. However, perfect doesn’t exist. It might as well be a made up word. But still every time I look in the mirror or step in the scale that word still echoes through my brain. “Why can’t I just be perfect?”
I find myself reading a lot more motivational stuff. I find myself dressing up more to “hide the ugly.” It’s so much so that people at work think I am seeing some one. After reading this they’ll get the sad news that only date I am going on is a one with insecurity. As depressing and sad as all this might be, I am grateful. In a way, I think this is allowing me to feel something I haven’t felt before. And this feeling has made me want to hug everyone women I know who has told me about their body issues in the past. I’d tell them I get it now and that I think they’re beautiful. I didn’t understand before. I didn’t know how much it hurt. I didn’t understand why you couldn’t see how gorgeous you were. I thought you were whining about being thin and a bombshell. I thought you saw yourself how I saw you. I am sorry. Forgive me. I understand now.
We are all fighting for own version of impossible perfection."
While growing up fat was a challenge for me. Yes, I got teased in high school. Yes, my clothing choices were limited. Yes, I couldn’t do things I wanted to (roller coaster rides mainly). Yes, occasionally, I longed to be something I wasn’t. However, I never walked around with self loathing. When I looked in the mirror naked, I didn’t hate what I saw. To the contrary, I found my body beautiful. Even at my heaviest I was perfectly proportioned; I always had a beautiful face. I got asked on dates. Even more so, men would confess there love to me on the streets. Sure most of these guys where bat shit crazy, but the fact remains. I never have felt or been treated like I was ugly- even by myself.
I used to tell my girl friends that I was too happy to lose weight and for all intents and purposes it was kind of true. All the things girls babble on about when they write weight loss blogs or make healthy eating motivational images didn’t really apply to me. The photos of skinny girls in sports bras and fake tans weren’t motivation for me. I was not losing weight to feel sexy or dress slutty. In fact, I did not think to lose weight to be feel pretty, sexually desirable or socially acceptable; I already was. I never learned to hate my body. I never believed the people who told me I wasn’t beautiful; so many people regularly told me the opposite. I often felt like the prettiest girl in the room, even though I was the biggest. I had built a great career, great friends, and an amazing life for a person at any size. If women were cars I was the Bentley of plus size women.
However, after losing both my mother and sister in part to morbid obesity, the reality of being overweight really hit me. While I was happy, dated enough (you never goon enough dates, good ones are like unicorns), I realized that there were serious consequences to my actions. That’s a blog for another day, but the point is I instantly committed to a new life choice and everything started to change. That change has been hard.
My self-worth has become tied to a number of the scale. Everyday I scrutinize my choices and when the numbers don’t move I don’t just get angry- I loathe myself. That feeling of self-hate and disgust that most women feel towards their body on a semi-regular basis crept into my life. Even more so, after losing 80 lbs. My skin is starting to droop. I look into the mirror now, and instead of a beautiful body, I see weird wrinkles. My belly button is no long round, it’s a long oval- like a slot in a vending machine. I can feel that things just don’t sit properly in my body. They jiggle. And no matter how much lotion I put on or how many prayers I say, it’s not getting better. It’s getting worse.
For the first time in my life (or at least for as long as I can remember), I am learning what it feels like to hate myself. And what I have learned is that for women most self-hate doesn’t come from a man, society or anything external. It comes from our own unrealistic expectations to become our own version of perfect- what we “think” the above wants us to be. It’s usually what we are physically incapable of being; the things we “want” for. Whether it’s a tan sports bra wearing California dream girl or big busted curvy pin-up girl, we all have out own mental image of perfect. However, perfect doesn’t exist. It might as well be a made up word. But still every time I look in the mirror or step in the scale that word still echoes through my brain. “Why can’t I just be perfect?”
I find myself reading a lot more motivational stuff. I find myself dressing up more to “hide the ugly.” It’s so much so that people at work think I am seeing some one. After reading this they’ll get the sad news that only date I am going on is a one with insecurity. As depressing and sad as all this might be, I am grateful. In a way, I think this is allowing me to feel something I haven’t felt before. And this feeling has made me want to hug everyone women I know who has told me about their body issues in the past. I’d tell them I get it now and that I think they’re beautiful. I didn’t understand before. I didn’t know how much it hurt. I didn’t understand why you couldn’t see how gorgeous you were. I thought you were whining about being thin and a bombshell. I thought you saw yourself how I saw you. I am sorry. Forgive me. I understand now.
We are all fighting for own version of impossible perfection."
Her Mother and Sister
"My Mother passed just short of her 52 birthday in 2003. She had gotten sick and her body couldn’t fight the illness. Her death certificate listed her official cause of death as “morbid obesity.” My sister Katherine died in June of 2011, a result of long term weight related issues. Neither my mother nor my sister had ever been tremendously healthy people. I fervently believe that both their deaths were a result of their poor food, exercise, and general health choices. And those choices will affect me for the rest of my life. I lost most of my family. I am constantly envious of the relationships my friends have with their mothers and sisters. I am constantly fearful that I too will die young. Sometimes I feel the only thing I really have to remember them by is the ton of shitty habits I am fighting tooth and nail to break. I don’t want anyone else to ever feel this type of pain.
Now it kills me is every time I see a plus size site that advocates being severely overweight as a healthy lifestyle alternative (the link is an example). I get livid. BEING OBESE SHOULD NOT BE SUGGESTED AS A HEALTHY WAY TO LIVE. That’s why they titled the state of being so (morbidly obese) a synonym for “deathly fat.” Instead of focusing on any weight as being “healthy”, we should encourage people to be active, exercise regularly, and eat a balanced diet."
"For the past 5 years I have had a semi-irrational fear of getting stuck in the bath tub. It all started when I just got too big to really enjoy taking a bath; laying in the tub became more uncomfortable than relaxing. True panic was born when I read about President Taft having to be freed from a basin back in ye olden days- and on the day of his inauguration no less! This of course led to a terrifying visions of my butt cheeks wedged between porcelain, and me screaming between gasps of tears “free me from this watery hell hole.”"
March 2013
"So last week when I was worrying about the fact I hadn’t been able to weigh myself on my scale, what eating out all week (even though I was doing 90 minutes of cardio daily to offset) would do, how I would afford skin reconstruction surgery and if I would ever reach a healthy weight and actually need that surgery- I said is enough is enough. I just need to calm the (edited) down. Like immediately. Because whatever got me in this state of crazy, wasn’t healthy. Allowing it to go on was going going to cause me to end up like one of those bat shit ladies with smeared red lipstick, in a fur house coat and slippers carrying a dead cat. I am not a cat person.
So I ran away. With less that 48 hrs notice I told my boss I need to cut loose for a few days, booked a flight to Rome, and just escaped."
April 2013
<She was already doing her weird wearing little clothing shit while working for Sprinklr>
May 2013
<Her Sexy Face>
"I felt that the only way to really calm my nerves this morning was to eat a cinnabon someone have “generously” left in the office kitchen. I used quotes there because I fully suspect some of the hotter ladies in the office might be concerned I am closing in on their their tales when it comes to my level of “damn-you-fine-ness” and are engaging in classic espionage of the diet variety. After I had eaten all the 880 calories goodness (yes that is how many calories one cinnabon has, you’re welcome), I turned to the bag of emergency Skinny Pop I keep hidden in the back of my file cabinet. Next thing I know, I am covered in nacho cheese, holding a milkshake and crying over the fact that I can’t find dunkaroos anywhere in this stupid city. I had binged."
June 2013
"So back to last week’s flight. I entered the cigar tube of a plane and groggily walked to my seat. I wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t all there. I started jamming my carry-on into the tiny overhead (because I’ll be damned if they have to plane check it). It takes me a second to realize it, but when I look down- it clicks. My destined seat partner, my compadre of sky times is severely overweight. He’s already got the seat rest pried up (because I am pretty certain he can’t even get it down). He looked completely terrified. I can see the fear in his eyes. This is a fat fliers worst nightmare; in his mind is running the words, ” CODE RED! ALERT! I have been sat next to a plus size passenger. Act cool. What are we going to do buddy? SQUISH AGAINST THE PLAN WINDOW. STALL THE FLIGHT!”
I knew instantly we would not both fit. I might fit well in a plane seat now, but I do need all of my seat- and it’s going to be a long time before I don’t. These pinto cars of the sky aren’t known for being spacious. Emotionally I was a mess. I was frustrated I was going to have to deal with our situation, because this man obviously was not the same type of fat flyer I had been.He was going to stare out the window as hard as possible, avoiding the situation we were in."
July 2013
Feederism Really Creeps Me Out
I never thought I would write this blog post, mostly because it’s terrifying and awkward and just plan ick to write. However, after the week I’ve had I feel I need to write this post for those girls out there who will face the same terrors. I am writing today about fat fetishism and how scary, creepy and demoralizing it can be. Here’s an overview of what creepy stuff is out there, in case you’re curious.
It’s usually from someone you don’t expect, making it even more hurtful and traumatizing. I’ve added all kinds of reaction photos so you can see just how creeped out I am about writing about this. Some how, it makes this all less uncomfortable. Maybe, its just because I like looking at pretty pictures of myself. Don’t Judge.
Let’s meet Street Blipster, AKA the very attractive man who asked me out on my walk home last week. I was elated. He was buff, and handsome, and seemingly out of my league. I had hit the jackpot. Over the week we shared amazing conversation and stories. We clicked. He doted on me and made me feel special. Even though he wasn’t perfect (and either am I), I felt we had the start of something potentially awesome. I was wrong.
It only took a few more days for the scary parts to start coming out. His infatuation with my weight. His secret fetishes. Of course being the sneaky sneak I am, I egged him on. Once I opened the flood gate- I was terrified by what came out.
“I want to tie you to a chair, shoving ridiculous food in your mouth, and grabbing your belly and telling you I ‘m going to make you crazy fat.”
“I want to force you face down into a plate of food, getting your butt smacked while I call you a fat b*tch.”
These are the messages he sent me. This was his version of naughty texting. Me, devalued and submissive, being chastised for my weight, while being force fed excessive amounts of food- that was his image of sexy. The sad thing is, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this experience. Or the second. Or the third. I have had this sick twisted play on roles shoved in my face more times than I can count. Frankly it’s beginning to make me terrified I’ll never find a man you accepts this bubble butt as it is without crudely fantasizing about humiliating me and “fattening me up”.
I met my first fat fetishist in college- at a Mormon university of all places. I remember feeling much like I did last week. “How did I get so lucky? He’s so smart and cute and seemingly out of my league.” My perception changed quickly when he got a hard on squeezing my fat rolls and confided in me that he wanted to watch me devour a plate full of brownie in front of him. He wanted me to gain weight. When I told him gaining weight was not an option I wanted nor could afford. He remarked, how “nothing turned him on more than the thought of me trying to squeeze into clothes two sizes to small for me.” Sicko.
I remember being insecure and confused. I liked food, maybe fat fetishism was inevitable. I even considered that maybe I secretly liked it that my weight was the result of some hidden id impulse. I say all this because I generally feel that women that feed into this -excuse my french- fucked up culture do so because of low self esteem. Their desire to be loved by someone else is some much stronger then there own self love. It make me sad because I know what it’s like to feel that way- especially in a society that put so much value on relationships and body image. I am lucky I was strong enough, otherwise I could very well be chained to some sickos bed right now, immobile, helpless and trapped in weight that was abusively forced on me.
I often think about that boy from college, and how he married a thin girl. I’ve done my research and these fetishists often try to fatten up their spouses secretly. They can’t feel sexually unsatisfied unless their spouse is gaining weight. I get nervous he’s doing that to her. If it doesn’t work, will he eventually leave her to find a girl who will allow him to trap her in a prison out of food?
I also think a lot about all the boys. They have some very striking resemblances. They are all attractive. They all have low self-esteem and a personal obsession with keeping their body fat as low as possible. That always stuck out to me, given their opposite sexual predilection in mates. They are educated and generally reject culture norms as much as possible. For example, with two of them, they went out of their way to regularly remind me they are above societal norms.
I thought about why they like me. My ideas are bit self-centered, but since it’s sharing time, I’ll go ahead. I’m a pretty girl. These guys obviously have some type of obsession with making a girl entirely reliant on them and further more unable to leave them. So in short, taking a pretty girl and as Madonna says, “hiding her away from the rest of the world” is the ultimate goal for them.
Well, sorry boys , this girl will NEVER be part of your creeped out fantasy.
I never thought I would write this blog post, mostly because it’s terrifying and awkward and just plan ick to write. However, after the week I’ve had I feel I need to write this post for those girls out there who will face the same terrors. I am writing today about fat fetishism and how scary, creepy and demoralizing it can be. Here’s an overview of what creepy stuff is out there, in case you’re curious.
It’s usually from someone you don’t expect, making it even more hurtful and traumatizing. I’ve added all kinds of reaction photos so you can see just how creeped out I am about writing about this. Some how, it makes this all less uncomfortable. Maybe, its just because I like looking at pretty pictures of myself. Don’t Judge.
Let’s meet Street Blipster, AKA the very attractive man who asked me out on my walk home last week. I was elated. He was buff, and handsome, and seemingly out of my league. I had hit the jackpot. Over the week we shared amazing conversation and stories. We clicked. He doted on me and made me feel special. Even though he wasn’t perfect (and either am I), I felt we had the start of something potentially awesome. I was wrong.
It only took a few more days for the scary parts to start coming out. His infatuation with my weight. His secret fetishes. Of course being the sneaky sneak I am, I egged him on. Once I opened the flood gate- I was terrified by what came out.
“I want to tie you to a chair, shoving ridiculous food in your mouth, and grabbing your belly and telling you I ‘m going to make you crazy fat.”
“I want to force you face down into a plate of food, getting your butt smacked while I call you a fat b*tch.”
These are the messages he sent me. This was his version of naughty texting. Me, devalued and submissive, being chastised for my weight, while being force fed excessive amounts of food- that was his image of sexy. The sad thing is, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this experience. Or the second. Or the third. I have had this sick twisted play on roles shoved in my face more times than I can count. Frankly it’s beginning to make me terrified I’ll never find a man you accepts this bubble butt as it is without crudely fantasizing about humiliating me and “fattening me up”.
I met my first fat fetishist in college- at a Mormon university of all places. I remember feeling much like I did last week. “How did I get so lucky? He’s so smart and cute and seemingly out of my league.” My perception changed quickly when he got a hard on squeezing my fat rolls and confided in me that he wanted to watch me devour a plate full of brownie in front of him. He wanted me to gain weight. When I told him gaining weight was not an option I wanted nor could afford. He remarked, how “nothing turned him on more than the thought of me trying to squeeze into clothes two sizes to small for me.” Sicko.
I remember being insecure and confused. I liked food, maybe fat fetishism was inevitable. I even considered that maybe I secretly liked it that my weight was the result of some hidden id impulse. I say all this because I generally feel that women that feed into this -excuse my french- fucked up culture do so because of low self esteem. Their desire to be loved by someone else is some much stronger then there own self love. It make me sad because I know what it’s like to feel that way- especially in a society that put so much value on relationships and body image. I am lucky I was strong enough, otherwise I could very well be chained to some sickos bed right now, immobile, helpless and trapped in weight that was abusively forced on me.
I often think about that boy from college, and how he married a thin girl. I’ve done my research and these fetishists often try to fatten up their spouses secretly. They can’t feel sexually unsatisfied unless their spouse is gaining weight. I get nervous he’s doing that to her. If it doesn’t work, will he eventually leave her to find a girl who will allow him to trap her in a prison out of food?
I also think a lot about all the boys. They have some very striking resemblances. They are all attractive. They all have low self-esteem and a personal obsession with keeping their body fat as low as possible. That always stuck out to me, given their opposite sexual predilection in mates. They are educated and generally reject culture norms as much as possible. For example, with two of them, they went out of their way to regularly remind me they are above societal norms.
I thought about why they like me. My ideas are bit self-centered, but since it’s sharing time, I’ll go ahead. I’m a pretty girl. These guys obviously have some type of obsession with making a girl entirely reliant on them and further more unable to leave them. So in short, taking a pretty girl and as Madonna says, “hiding her away from the rest of the world” is the ultimate goal for them.
Well, sorry boys , this girl will NEVER be part of your creeped out fantasy.
September 2013
<She randomly moved to UK after the Feederism post>
Coming Next the Biggest Loser Resort and when she randomly returns to Sprinklr as a Director position after disappearing to the uk for months!
Last edited:
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2017
She lived in a Midtown highrise so decently isolated from the sound -- but yea, she's a wimp. For any fellow NYCers, former or current, that she lived in Midtown is reason enough to be suspicious of her. Other than theater people or businessmen and women that want to be close to work I'm not sure there's any reason to live in Midtown. It's the most soulless, tourist filled part of NYC, it's as generic as you can get in NYC.
- Joined
- Feb 20, 2021
I think I speak for us all when I say HOLY SHIT.
Also, you OK, buddy? Why don't you go look at some nice kitty photos or take a walk or drink yourself to death to cope with the horrors you've seen today?
Also, you OK, buddy? Why don't you go look at some nice kitty photos or take a walk or drink yourself to death to cope with the horrors you've seen today?
I Smell Burnt Toast...
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Mar 26, 2021
Her latest post..."ooops look at me, I tried 'adulting' and missed. Ooops I bought a house and I am overwhelmed" is NOT cute-obvs she think she is being cute. She is a 35 yo influencer who panders to tweens. Hasnt save any money, is still on daddys purse strings. Yet is able to buy a house in a few days?? Her "ooops I bought a house" schtick doesnt make sense! You cant just buy a house. You need to get financed in order, house inspections, mortgage rates, among TONS of other things. It doesnt seem truthful at all. Her "ooops Im cute shit"-is just that...shit! Bullshit.
She posts literally every second of her non-life. Why didnt she "bring us along" and post all the shit she claims to have done to buy a house? She is so fucking pathetic.
She posts literally every second of her non-life. Why didnt she "bring us along" and post all the shit she claims to have done to buy a house? She is so fucking pathetic.
dropthesoap
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 10, 2019
I grew up in NYC. But I’m from the UWS- which is pretty family friendly I couldn’t imagine wanting to live in midtown. That place is a shit show. With that being said it’s also incredibly expensive unless you know someone or go the Hell’s Kitchen route. The only people I know in midtown are business people from other states/countries. But they’re spending $3k a month for a studio- Anna had to be spending far more. And to do what? Stay inside all day lol
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2021
Whew, @GenociderSyo sorry I dont have the Semper Fi react to give you cause got dayum.
But like
But like
Maybe Anna's really found her calling in life with the influencer bullshit cause what other career would facilitate this level of delusional vanity? Who says this?
wellthen
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2019
And if you give the former Lazer a search he’s kept the weight off and distance runs.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2016
She used to be a lot more honest and self-aware. It's hard to believe she suddenly forgot all those things and doesn't mind them anymore, she's just not talking about them and pretends everything is ok. Hard to believe the influencer life is worth it.
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2019
November 2013
<Still in UK, No talk about work at all>
Decembery 2013
"I want to fly someone home for the holidays. Given that I just decided to do this and have a relatively short window to book the ticket, you’ll need to leave a comment by this Sunday to be considered. I am sorry I can’t fly everyone who might comment home. I’ll announce the winner and book their trip Monday. Unfortunately, I don’t have as many miles as Peter, so I’ll only be able to fly one (maybe two?) people home.You’ll be flying United.
In a bold twist, (why not? I like to be flashy.) it can be international. However, you need to be responsible for being able to fly to whatever that country is legally. Ain’t nobody got time to figure that out for you."
<LONG Break>
March 2015
"It’s not like amazing things haven’t happened. I went on an insane internet date with a psuedo internet celebrity where we drank 40’s in Brad Pitt’s driveway, had a classy meal at Taco Bell, and ended the evening by playing a rousing game of “is that male pole dancer covered in glitter straight or gay?” I also moved to Austin, designed the apartment of my dreams, and finally crossed that whole “dying my hair blue” item of my bucket list. I’ve had plenty to write about, I just simply haven’t been able to get my proverbial shit together."
From Dude's Blog:
Anna wound up with a few thousand more votes than anyone else, and awesomely agreed to fly all the way from Austin TX to meet me in L.A. Anna gets a single text message instructing her to meet me by the fountain at the Hollywood Grove at 6pm. She arrives to find me holding the 2 goldfish we would name Candy and Butts before releasing them to freedom. Ok dinner's over. We picked up 40's at the liquor store and hitched an uber to Brad Pitt's. The driver was a little worried when he heard our plan, but he wound up getting really pumped for our mission and parked 50 ft. downhill with the engine running so we could make a clean getaway. It took roughly 45 seconds for security to notice our presence, but they were super cool. They asked what we were doing. We said, "drinking 40s for valentine's day." They said "Ok drink fast" and returned inside. We decided things couldn't get much more absurd, so we asked the driver to take us to the biggest gay club in hollywood. He complied. I dared Anna to rub up on one of the go-go dancers. She complied. Anna dared me to jump on stage and swing around the stripper pole without getting caught. I figured this would get me swiftly ejected, but it turned out way better than expected. "
This appears to be the beginning of HAES time and bikini pics:
April 2015
"The other night I had some drinks. And by had some drinks, let’s just say I was “high-fiving strangers and inventing new dance moves that later get turned into animated gifs by your friends” drunk. When one gets to this special place, we sometimes come upon “great ideas.” My great idea was that I desperately needed tutus, that this was going to be my thing, and that one would not not be enough to fulfill my my tutu wearing fantasies. A couple of drunken amazon clicks later, I passed out and life moved on…. Until the following Monday. Two tutus show up, that I don’t remember purchasing and I have no idea what I going to do with."
<Still in UK, No talk about work at all>
Day 1:
Fat Camp at the Biggest Loser Resort Malibu wasn’t what I expected it to be. I had this weird notion that it was going to be easy. You know with all the lunges these thunder thighs have done, how hard could climbing a mountain or swimming laps would be? Hard. Really hard. And not physically hard, mentally hard.
Basically every ounce of your body gets sore and you have to be like ,” Yo body keep going.” And your body is all like, “bitch please, let’s source some caffeine from the black market.” And that’s where you find yourself in a dark alleyway of camper housing trying to swap your afternoon snack for a cup of black gold to take away the shakes. Ok, so maybe the fat camp black market doesn’t exist. And maybe I don’t feel driven to trade lewd acts for a cup of joe. But when I didn’t finish my afternoon snack and brought back to my cabin I did make copious jokes about how I was “packin’”. It’s funny to joke about food being a drug, only because for most of us here this week- it’s kind of true.
You’re probably wondering what we actually did today work out wise. Good wondering, because now I am going to fulfill your cerebral needs with a overview! Boom!
Woke up this Morning expecting to be super sore, but I am not. I have a feeling they got the exercise mix just perfectly to accomplish that. I am excited to kick some more ass today and make more progress towards awesome. Peace out campers.
Day 2:
OK. Yes. First thing is first- Fitness Review! *triple clap* Fitness Review.
The day started off right with another 6 mile hike led by the sassy, lovely and at times a bit kooky hike guides above. I was placed in group 4 (intermediate level something) and solidly led the pack for most of the hike. I am not sure if jet lag had been holding me back on my first hike, but I kicked some serious bubble butt on this one. Boom! The below is a photo of our group. I apologize for the fact that I look like a creepy uncle in this one, lurking in the background. Remember, it’s not a party unless at least one creeper shows up.
So, here’s rundown of how the rest of the day went workout wise: (Total workout time 7 hrs.)
Let’s start with the basics, Dr. Ray is a stone cold fox. He’s also the nicest guy ever. If I wasn’t seeing someone I though was pretty awesome, I could see how having him jump on top of me for $50 would be worth it- success or not. This only lowered my expectations for actual relief. I told Dr Ray about the pain in my crotch muscles and he started stretching. As he stretched I explained how I rarely felt stretches in class. He explained how with mass weight loss the body can get weird and sometimes doesn’t adapt evenly. Next thing I knew my pain was gone and my legs were behind my head. What. The. Profanity.
When we finished, I was a convert. I asked, “So should I see a chiropractor regularly to fix this when my joints get weird?” His reply surprised me. He explained that I didn’t need a chiropractor, but a stretchologist. WHAT THE HELL IS A STRETCHOLOGIST? Apparently it is someone who can help you return to full flexibility after your joints and muscles stiffen up. SOLD. I am excited to add this piece of fitness to my training, because I can definitely tell what a difference it will make. Now, to find a stretchologist in London!
Day 3:
When you first show up at the Biggest Loser Resort, you have some preconceived notions. Mostly, that it will be mostly people with a lot of chub chub to get a hunka hunka burning. During the first meal you learn that this assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. About half the campers have a lot of weight to lose and the other half are split between people who have 5-30 lbs to lose and overly enthusiastic fitness lovers. Yes, people go to the Biggest Loser Resort just for a fitness ass kicking. At any weight, spending a week at this resort is pushing your body to new limits.
Yesterday, I was moved up to the van 5 hiking group. Van five is one of the hardest hiking vans. There’s only one more van above it and it’s for the people actually want to be pushed to run up mountains. I had done so well on the van 4 hike, that they had asked me if I wanted to be pushed a bit harder. Well, I didn’t fly to California to twiddle my thumbs! I came here to get my bum hard as a rock and my endurance tested. Of course I wanted to be in the challenge group!
On the ride over to the hike I got a little freaked out. Of the 50+ campers, only about 7 were in the advanced hiking groups. Of those 7, I was the only overweight person. It couldn’t be that bad, right? WRONG. Level 5 was at least 3 times harder than level 4. For example, the beginning of the hike was switchbacks all the way up to the top of a mountain- for 50 minutes. And we’re not talking leisurely up hill meanders either. Devil inclines. Vicious Ramps. Villainous climbs. The kind of rises, that if you took them the other way you’d have to side step down or risk falling to your death. About 35 minutes in, I hit a wall. I was bawling my eyes out.
“I should have stayed in van four. I was at the front in van four. It was rolling hills. I was running. I can’t do this. It hurts so bad. I can do this. No I can’t. Yes I can. I am the slowest person here. I hate this [long line of profanities] mountain. I wonder if I am on this hike to die. You know these girls will not be able to carry my body down. I won’t even have a proper funeral. All because I decided to “push” myself.”
As I cried in the middle of this mountain like a baby, I kept stepping. One painful step, after another. When I finally looked up I realized that while complaining I had managed to walk about 500 ft from the summit. Plus, the 3 other ladies in my group were smiling at me and cheering me on. Instantly, a new emotion came over me, I was capable of so much more than I thought I was. I just had to be willing to hurt a little to achieve more.
The rest of the hike was oddly much easier, though I still whined a bit at times. Mostly when we hit another steep slope; I would swear at it before stepping forth to conquer it. Some how that made it better. Swearing at things seems to work for me. When we finished the hike I felt awesome.
They say that Wednesday is the day everyone hits their wall. I guess this story is evidence of that. This mountain climb became an analogy for my life. There are so many ways I play it safe, taking the van 4, when I could be riding in van 5. Now I know that I have the strength inside me- mentally, physically, emotionally to challenge myself. I just have to be willing to believe I can push through the pain of a new challenge. It’s only impossible if I left myself believe it is. And, at the end of the journey there’s always someone at the end of the road, cheering me on when I need it most.
As I write this I can’t help to think back a year and a half ago when I first started. My challenges were so different. It was the people in my life who helped me push on. Standing on the mountain top, cheering my name. My amazing boss, who told me to go exercise when ever I was stressed. My CEO who promised to throw me a party and lend me his fancy sports car when I hit my goal weight (no Ragy, I have not forgotten). My friends who exercised with me in the beginning when it was so painfully hard. I am not sure if they know this, but talking to them as we walked was the only way I would forget about how much it hurt. My step mom, who researches gyms for me when home and makes my dad clear the house of all junk food. My father who calls me regularly to see if I need new gym shoes and to tell me how proud he is of me. My spin class front row bitches, who for the first time helped me feel comfortable in a gym. All the lovely ladies on the same journey as I am who swap stories and recipes with me. You are all part of my success and I am incredibly grateful.
Change is painfully hard. Thank you to everyone who has helped and continue to make my change bearable.
Day 4:
So yesterday was Thanksgiving at The Biggest Loser Resort and I feel like the day is best summed up in a cornucopia of photos.This because a) I actually took some b) I slept in and don’t have time to painfully blather on about my emotions. I am just kidding. I ALWAYS have time to fill these pages with excessive words and left of center descriptions! First is first, take a good look at the lovely ladies above. These girls have been my rock over the past few days and I am so excited to keep in touch with them. We are a pretty globally fierce group. Ladies be rocking the fitness sex appeal from Vancouver to NYC to Berlin. Hollah at yo mama. Aye, how aboot that. Glockspiel. (Sorry, this is the only word I know in German).
So to celebrate the biggest food fiesta holoiday of the year, we ran the first annual Biggest Loser Resort Malibu Turkey Trot. Being as I love a good theme, I ended up doing a couple people’s make-up. Actually, lies. Sam made me do his make-up. As much as I wanted to draw inappropriate 4th grade boy inspired things on his face, I am proud of myself for keeping it classy.
So when we actually got to running the race, I in short, killed it. I ran pretty much the whole thing, except for this crazy hard hill. That I walked. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I also accidentally got off course at one point and found this majestic carousel. I want you to know I had to Google how to type carousel… because that word is legitimately hard to spell. Actually, it was kind of a run down, beat up carousel, but you know I can’t turn down a good photo opp.
I accomplished my goal of running most of the race (minus that sucktastic super hill) and finished with a time of around 44 minutes. Hey I’ll take a 14 minute mile run with sore legs and majestic carousel distractions. I’d like to point out how sexy the photo of me looks. I love the shirt ridden up in the front look accented by my all in pastel cotton candy fabulous ensemble.
Now just in case you were thinking this all the sexy sweating we did. I say nay. In short the rest of the day went Gym. Pool. Eat. Gym. Pool. Gym.
Now let’s talk about the nommages, baby. I was shocked at the Thanksgiving dinner the resort was able to place in front of us for only 433 calories. I am pretty sure there is some dark magic happening in the kitchen. Maybe the chef is into voodoo. Or maybe he sold his soul for the ability to cook palatable, healthy food. I just don’t know. 433 CALORIES PEOPLE! That’s like eating one cup of your normal mashed potatoes and gravy on the day of thanks (and football, and booze, and annoying relatives).
It wasn’t just the dinner that blew my discerning tongue’s mind. The meal ended with a dessert that only further raised my suspicion of “cooking skills for soul” negotiations. This pumpkin creme brulee (93 calories) was so good all I wanted to do was to be dropped in a pool of it- with the only way to prevent myself from suffocating would be to eat my way out. Good news. I can make this completely realistic dream come true. I snagged the recipe. PRAISE ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD.
Day 5: <FPH States she is wrong about a lot of this post>
So one of the cool things about the Biggest Loser Resort is that they have a variety of high tech fancy fance extras you can indulge in to help you optimize your fitness routine and diet. One such extra that I found extremely helpful was the RMR test. RMR stands for resting metabolic rate, which is essentially how many calories you would burn if you sat on your butt all day watching family guy. Now there are ways to estimate this number, but if you REALLY want to know how much you burn on the regular you need to find someone with a fancy machine and tube you can breathe into for around 20 minutes. Then- Beep. Beep. Beep. You have a shiny little paper output that shows you your RMR.
Here you can see my RMR is 2,405- that’s a full 500 calories than most metabolic estimate equations would predict. That means my body may not feel satisfied eating a 1500 calories (unless it’s perfectly nutritionally balanced); to lose effectively I really should stay closer to 1900. YAY MORE FOOD. FAT KID DANCE HOUR.
Being a curious cat, I did some expert googling to try and figure out why my RMR is higher than average. Now according to the internet, I am either packing a shit ton of male hormones (call me Manna), am stressed out to no end, dying of a serious illness or am one heck of a fitness beast. I am going to pretend it’s the sexy six pack I house under my plushy plumpness that’s upping my energy burn. If you want to know more about what affects your resting metabolic rate, I found this PDF really helpful.
In the end this information is going to be super useful as I optimize my workout and meal plan. Following another big tip I learned from the ranch, I am going to be rocking a 30% fat, 30% protein, and 40% carb diet. Well as close as one can get living a life of crazy start-uppedness and incessant jazz hands. I am excited to put all this new knowledge to work!
I am going to end this post with a really pretty picture I took at the beach when we were on -yes- another hike. It has absolutely nothing to do with RMR. It’s just too dang fabulous not to share
Final:
Ladies and gentleman (and sassy gays) I report live to you from the Houston airport lounge very much well and alive. I have survived the all out fitness frenzy and have lived to blog about it yet again. I feel a bit sad that I have left behind catered meals and days fully free to exercise, but alas I must return to real life. Sigh.
On the last day of camp they pushed us through a crazy cray last chance workout. If you completed said work out you got a chic moisture wick headband which I am oh so casually modeling in the photo above. What can I say, the camera LOVES me. Anyhoo, for my weeks last chance work out we had to haul some serious booty. Here’s a run down of what we had to do:
I completed this round of physical terror in 35 minutes and 36 seconds. I finished third in the whole retreat. I felt like a full on beast. My male alter-ego (Manna) really wanted to rip her shirt off and grunt. Luckily, I only let Manna on very rare occasions. I am a lady and do lady things.
Now onto the real reason you all are reading this blog- my results. Well ladies and gentleman, they were pretty freaking fantastic. I set a goal of sexily sweating off 7 lbs this week and I creamed that goal by losing 10.6 LBS!!!! For those of you muttering “water weight” under your breathe, I say “NAY!” The Biggest Loser Resort has fancy weigh-in machines that tell you exactly what that loss was composed of. For me, that weight loss was made up of 8.6 lbs of fat, .2 lbs dry lean body mass and 1.8 lbs water. So you doubters can suck it. I also lost 1.5 inches off my bust, waist and hips. Now, I am pretty sure most of the weight came off thighs and bootay, so those measurements wouldn’t really surface that loss. I am extremely happy with my results and I am already planning a trip back next thanksgiving with a few of the girls I met in Malibu.
I am so ready to start the next phase of my weight loss journey.
Fat Camp at the Biggest Loser Resort Malibu wasn’t what I expected it to be. I had this weird notion that it was going to be easy. You know with all the lunges these thunder thighs have done, how hard could climbing a mountain or swimming laps would be? Hard. Really hard. And not physically hard, mentally hard.
Basically every ounce of your body gets sore and you have to be like ,” Yo body keep going.” And your body is all like, “bitch please, let’s source some caffeine from the black market.” And that’s where you find yourself in a dark alleyway of camper housing trying to swap your afternoon snack for a cup of black gold to take away the shakes. Ok, so maybe the fat camp black market doesn’t exist. And maybe I don’t feel driven to trade lewd acts for a cup of joe. But when I didn’t finish my afternoon snack and brought back to my cabin I did make copious jokes about how I was “packin’”. It’s funny to joke about food being a drug, only because for most of us here this week- it’s kind of true.
You’re probably wondering what we actually did today work out wise. Good wondering, because now I am going to fulfill your cerebral needs with a overview! Boom!
- We hiked 6 miles in and out of a mountain trail. The photo up top is the start of the trail- the first three of those were straight uphill! On the return I made the choice to run. My legs were angry with that decision.
- Circuit training was next. Here we did 2 minutes of intense cardio (again running, ugh) following by 2 minutes heavy lifting. 60 min.
- After circuit we did core. This was A LOT of planks, supermans, bird dogs and all other things that make you shake. This class was killer after circuit training. 60 min.
- We finished up the day with a pool class where we swam laps and did a variety of treading exercises. 60 min.
Woke up this Morning expecting to be super sore, but I am not. I have a feeling they got the exercise mix just perfectly to accomplish that. I am excited to kick some more ass today and make more progress towards awesome. Peace out campers.
Day 2:
OK. Yes. First thing is first- Fitness Review! *triple clap* Fitness Review.
The day started off right with another 6 mile hike led by the sassy, lovely and at times a bit kooky hike guides above. I was placed in group 4 (intermediate level something) and solidly led the pack for most of the hike. I am not sure if jet lag had been holding me back on my first hike, but I kicked some serious bubble butt on this one. Boom! The below is a photo of our group. I apologize for the fact that I look like a creepy uncle in this one, lurking in the background. Remember, it’s not a party unless at least one creeper shows up.
So, here’s rundown of how the rest of the day went workout wise: (Total workout time 7 hrs.)
- 6:00 am stretch: Totally necessary after yesterday! Plus I noticed that muscle in my crotch- I have no clue what the decent term is- was bugging me. Our trainer showed me ways to stretch it out and I probably will have a more interesting sex life as a result. (60 min)
- 11:15 am pool class: This class was optional, but I am so glad I did it. I’m a fish and extra water time made my day. I also love pool because the anti-gravity helps give your poor joints a rest. (60 min)
- 2:00 pm pool class: This pool class was hard as hell. Like seriously I never thought you could sweat so hard in the water. But let me tell you, hold a medicine ball above your head and try to tread water. It’s not easy. (60 min)
- 3:15 pm Cardio Intervals: This class we focused on building up to our max threshold of exertion and then doing a series of sprints on that level. I found myself on the treadmill at it’s steepest incline walking 4.0 mph. You might chastise me for walking, but walking that fast straight uphill (for me) is a bigger physical challenge then running really fast on a straight plain. (60 min)
- 4:15 pm Total Toning: Fact. I almost threw up in this class. Word to the wise for anyone who does this in the future, do light weights for this. Even if you can lift like a beast, do light weights. I used 18lbs/8kg arm weights (still less than my max) and mixed with all the cardio I was not doing so hot. Plus the room was “omg it’s a heat wave I am going to build a tent around my A/C and never leave” hot. Not ideal. Made it though. (60 min)
Let’s start with the basics, Dr. Ray is a stone cold fox. He’s also the nicest guy ever. If I wasn’t seeing someone I though was pretty awesome, I could see how having him jump on top of me for $50 would be worth it- success or not. This only lowered my expectations for actual relief. I told Dr Ray about the pain in my crotch muscles and he started stretching. As he stretched I explained how I rarely felt stretches in class. He explained how with mass weight loss the body can get weird and sometimes doesn’t adapt evenly. Next thing I knew my pain was gone and my legs were behind my head. What. The. Profanity.
When we finished, I was a convert. I asked, “So should I see a chiropractor regularly to fix this when my joints get weird?” His reply surprised me. He explained that I didn’t need a chiropractor, but a stretchologist. WHAT THE HELL IS A STRETCHOLOGIST? Apparently it is someone who can help you return to full flexibility after your joints and muscles stiffen up. SOLD. I am excited to add this piece of fitness to my training, because I can definitely tell what a difference it will make. Now, to find a stretchologist in London!
Day 3:
When you first show up at the Biggest Loser Resort, you have some preconceived notions. Mostly, that it will be mostly people with a lot of chub chub to get a hunka hunka burning. During the first meal you learn that this assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. About half the campers have a lot of weight to lose and the other half are split between people who have 5-30 lbs to lose and overly enthusiastic fitness lovers. Yes, people go to the Biggest Loser Resort just for a fitness ass kicking. At any weight, spending a week at this resort is pushing your body to new limits.
Yesterday, I was moved up to the van 5 hiking group. Van five is one of the hardest hiking vans. There’s only one more van above it and it’s for the people actually want to be pushed to run up mountains. I had done so well on the van 4 hike, that they had asked me if I wanted to be pushed a bit harder. Well, I didn’t fly to California to twiddle my thumbs! I came here to get my bum hard as a rock and my endurance tested. Of course I wanted to be in the challenge group!
On the ride over to the hike I got a little freaked out. Of the 50+ campers, only about 7 were in the advanced hiking groups. Of those 7, I was the only overweight person. It couldn’t be that bad, right? WRONG. Level 5 was at least 3 times harder than level 4. For example, the beginning of the hike was switchbacks all the way up to the top of a mountain- for 50 minutes. And we’re not talking leisurely up hill meanders either. Devil inclines. Vicious Ramps. Villainous climbs. The kind of rises, that if you took them the other way you’d have to side step down or risk falling to your death. About 35 minutes in, I hit a wall. I was bawling my eyes out.
“I should have stayed in van four. I was at the front in van four. It was rolling hills. I was running. I can’t do this. It hurts so bad. I can do this. No I can’t. Yes I can. I am the slowest person here. I hate this [long line of profanities] mountain. I wonder if I am on this hike to die. You know these girls will not be able to carry my body down. I won’t even have a proper funeral. All because I decided to “push” myself.”
As I cried in the middle of this mountain like a baby, I kept stepping. One painful step, after another. When I finally looked up I realized that while complaining I had managed to walk about 500 ft from the summit. Plus, the 3 other ladies in my group were smiling at me and cheering me on. Instantly, a new emotion came over me, I was capable of so much more than I thought I was. I just had to be willing to hurt a little to achieve more.
The rest of the hike was oddly much easier, though I still whined a bit at times. Mostly when we hit another steep slope; I would swear at it before stepping forth to conquer it. Some how that made it better. Swearing at things seems to work for me. When we finished the hike I felt awesome.
They say that Wednesday is the day everyone hits their wall. I guess this story is evidence of that. This mountain climb became an analogy for my life. There are so many ways I play it safe, taking the van 4, when I could be riding in van 5. Now I know that I have the strength inside me- mentally, physically, emotionally to challenge myself. I just have to be willing to believe I can push through the pain of a new challenge. It’s only impossible if I left myself believe it is. And, at the end of the journey there’s always someone at the end of the road, cheering me on when I need it most.
As I write this I can’t help to think back a year and a half ago when I first started. My challenges were so different. It was the people in my life who helped me push on. Standing on the mountain top, cheering my name. My amazing boss, who told me to go exercise when ever I was stressed. My CEO who promised to throw me a party and lend me his fancy sports car when I hit my goal weight (no Ragy, I have not forgotten). My friends who exercised with me in the beginning when it was so painfully hard. I am not sure if they know this, but talking to them as we walked was the only way I would forget about how much it hurt. My step mom, who researches gyms for me when home and makes my dad clear the house of all junk food. My father who calls me regularly to see if I need new gym shoes and to tell me how proud he is of me. My spin class front row bitches, who for the first time helped me feel comfortable in a gym. All the lovely ladies on the same journey as I am who swap stories and recipes with me. You are all part of my success and I am incredibly grateful.
Change is painfully hard. Thank you to everyone who has helped and continue to make my change bearable.
Day 4:
So yesterday was Thanksgiving at The Biggest Loser Resort and I feel like the day is best summed up in a cornucopia of photos.This because a) I actually took some b) I slept in and don’t have time to painfully blather on about my emotions. I am just kidding. I ALWAYS have time to fill these pages with excessive words and left of center descriptions! First is first, take a good look at the lovely ladies above. These girls have been my rock over the past few days and I am so excited to keep in touch with them. We are a pretty globally fierce group. Ladies be rocking the fitness sex appeal from Vancouver to NYC to Berlin. Hollah at yo mama. Aye, how aboot that. Glockspiel. (Sorry, this is the only word I know in German).
So to celebrate the biggest food fiesta holoiday of the year, we ran the first annual Biggest Loser Resort Malibu Turkey Trot. Being as I love a good theme, I ended up doing a couple people’s make-up. Actually, lies. Sam made me do his make-up. As much as I wanted to draw inappropriate 4th grade boy inspired things on his face, I am proud of myself for keeping it classy.
So when we actually got to running the race, I in short, killed it. I ran pretty much the whole thing, except for this crazy hard hill. That I walked. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I also accidentally got off course at one point and found this majestic carousel. I want you to know I had to Google how to type carousel… because that word is legitimately hard to spell. Actually, it was kind of a run down, beat up carousel, but you know I can’t turn down a good photo opp.
I accomplished my goal of running most of the race (minus that sucktastic super hill) and finished with a time of around 44 minutes. Hey I’ll take a 14 minute mile run with sore legs and majestic carousel distractions. I’d like to point out how sexy the photo of me looks. I love the shirt ridden up in the front look accented by my all in pastel cotton candy fabulous ensemble.
Now just in case you were thinking this all the sexy sweating we did. I say nay. In short the rest of the day went Gym. Pool. Eat. Gym. Pool. Gym.
Now let’s talk about the nommages, baby. I was shocked at the Thanksgiving dinner the resort was able to place in front of us for only 433 calories. I am pretty sure there is some dark magic happening in the kitchen. Maybe the chef is into voodoo. Or maybe he sold his soul for the ability to cook palatable, healthy food. I just don’t know. 433 CALORIES PEOPLE! That’s like eating one cup of your normal mashed potatoes and gravy on the day of thanks (and football, and booze, and annoying relatives).
It wasn’t just the dinner that blew my discerning tongue’s mind. The meal ended with a dessert that only further raised my suspicion of “cooking skills for soul” negotiations. This pumpkin creme brulee (93 calories) was so good all I wanted to do was to be dropped in a pool of it- with the only way to prevent myself from suffocating would be to eat my way out. Good news. I can make this completely realistic dream come true. I snagged the recipe. PRAISE ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD.
Day 5: <FPH States she is wrong about a lot of this post>
So one of the cool things about the Biggest Loser Resort is that they have a variety of high tech fancy fance extras you can indulge in to help you optimize your fitness routine and diet. One such extra that I found extremely helpful was the RMR test. RMR stands for resting metabolic rate, which is essentially how many calories you would burn if you sat on your butt all day watching family guy. Now there are ways to estimate this number, but if you REALLY want to know how much you burn on the regular you need to find someone with a fancy machine and tube you can breathe into for around 20 minutes. Then- Beep. Beep. Beep. You have a shiny little paper output that shows you your RMR.
Here you can see my RMR is 2,405- that’s a full 500 calories than most metabolic estimate equations would predict. That means my body may not feel satisfied eating a 1500 calories (unless it’s perfectly nutritionally balanced); to lose effectively I really should stay closer to 1900. YAY MORE FOOD. FAT KID DANCE HOUR.
Being a curious cat, I did some expert googling to try and figure out why my RMR is higher than average. Now according to the internet, I am either packing a shit ton of male hormones (call me Manna), am stressed out to no end, dying of a serious illness or am one heck of a fitness beast. I am going to pretend it’s the sexy six pack I house under my plushy plumpness that’s upping my energy burn. If you want to know more about what affects your resting metabolic rate, I found this PDF really helpful.
In the end this information is going to be super useful as I optimize my workout and meal plan. Following another big tip I learned from the ranch, I am going to be rocking a 30% fat, 30% protein, and 40% carb diet. Well as close as one can get living a life of crazy start-uppedness and incessant jazz hands. I am excited to put all this new knowledge to work!
I am going to end this post with a really pretty picture I took at the beach when we were on -yes- another hike. It has absolutely nothing to do with RMR. It’s just too dang fabulous not to share
Final:
Ladies and gentleman (and sassy gays) I report live to you from the Houston airport lounge very much well and alive. I have survived the all out fitness frenzy and have lived to blog about it yet again. I feel a bit sad that I have left behind catered meals and days fully free to exercise, but alas I must return to real life. Sigh.
On the last day of camp they pushed us through a crazy cray last chance workout. If you completed said work out you got a chic moisture wick headband which I am oh so casually modeling in the photo above. What can I say, the camera LOVES me. Anyhoo, for my weeks last chance work out we had to haul some serious booty. Here’s a run down of what we had to do:
- Bike 3 miles.
- Do 50 sit up crunches on one of those half big ball things
- 50 weighted ball throws (10 lbs or higher)
- 50 weighted squat thrusts
- 50 squated rows.
- Pushed an annoyingly large and heavy punching bag across the room and back 5 times.
- 50 plank up and downs (or as I like to call them the fitness move of Satan)
- A mile on the treadmill
- 50 total squats with a leg lift (25 each leg)
- 25 burpies
I completed this round of physical terror in 35 minutes and 36 seconds. I finished third in the whole retreat. I felt like a full on beast. My male alter-ego (Manna) really wanted to rip her shirt off and grunt. Luckily, I only let Manna on very rare occasions. I am a lady and do lady things.
Now onto the real reason you all are reading this blog- my results. Well ladies and gentleman, they were pretty freaking fantastic. I set a goal of sexily sweating off 7 lbs this week and I creamed that goal by losing 10.6 LBS!!!! For those of you muttering “water weight” under your breathe, I say “NAY!” The Biggest Loser Resort has fancy weigh-in machines that tell you exactly what that loss was composed of. For me, that weight loss was made up of 8.6 lbs of fat, .2 lbs dry lean body mass and 1.8 lbs water. So you doubters can suck it. I also lost 1.5 inches off my bust, waist and hips. Now, I am pretty sure most of the weight came off thighs and bootay, so those measurements wouldn’t really surface that loss. I am extremely happy with my results and I am already planning a trip back next thanksgiving with a few of the girls I met in Malibu.
I am so ready to start the next phase of my weight loss journey.
Decembery 2013
"I want to fly someone home for the holidays. Given that I just decided to do this and have a relatively short window to book the ticket, you’ll need to leave a comment by this Sunday to be considered. I am sorry I can’t fly everyone who might comment home. I’ll announce the winner and book their trip Monday. Unfortunately, I don’t have as many miles as Peter, so I’ll only be able to fly one (maybe two?) people home.You’ll be flying United.
In a bold twist, (why not? I like to be flashy.) it can be international. However, you need to be responsible for being able to fly to whatever that country is legally. Ain’t nobody got time to figure that out for you."
<LONG Break>
March 2015
"It’s not like amazing things haven’t happened. I went on an insane internet date with a psuedo internet celebrity where we drank 40’s in Brad Pitt’s driveway, had a classy meal at Taco Bell, and ended the evening by playing a rousing game of “is that male pole dancer covered in glitter straight or gay?” I also moved to Austin, designed the apartment of my dreams, and finally crossed that whole “dying my hair blue” item of my bucket list. I’ve had plenty to write about, I just simply haven’t been able to get my proverbial shit together."
From Dude's Blog:
Anna wound up with a few thousand more votes than anyone else, and awesomely agreed to fly all the way from Austin TX to meet me in L.A. Anna gets a single text message instructing her to meet me by the fountain at the Hollywood Grove at 6pm. She arrives to find me holding the 2 goldfish we would name Candy and Butts before releasing them to freedom. Ok dinner's over. We picked up 40's at the liquor store and hitched an uber to Brad Pitt's. The driver was a little worried when he heard our plan, but he wound up getting really pumped for our mission and parked 50 ft. downhill with the engine running so we could make a clean getaway. It took roughly 45 seconds for security to notice our presence, but they were super cool. They asked what we were doing. We said, "drinking 40s for valentine's day." They said "Ok drink fast" and returned inside. We decided things couldn't get much more absurd, so we asked the driver to take us to the biggest gay club in hollywood. He complied. I dared Anna to rub up on one of the go-go dancers. She complied. Anna dared me to jump on stage and swing around the stripper pole without getting caught. I figured this would get me swiftly ejected, but it turned out way better than expected. "
I swear every time I enter the online dating world again I think to myself, “It can’t get any weirder than it’s already has been.” That my friends is the biggest, fattest, juiciest lie I tell myself on a semi annual basis. It ALWAYS gets weirder.
I am not sure what it is about me that attracts the scum of the earth mixed with boys with severe emotional issues, but some how I do. Maybe it’s the booty. Maybe it’s my dazzling wit and unwavering ability to find a karaoke bar at 3 am that’s still open. Who knows.
I do recall that one guy told me I had “eyes that looked they were into freaky stuff.” Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. I blame you for giving me freak-a-leek vision. Now every man who catches my gaze is immediately getting the impression I once starred in porn. CURSE THESE EYES.
For evidence of the bat shit crazy that finds me in all mu online trysts in search of love, I present the below conversation from today’s endeavors. I’d like to note this was his response to “So what do you do in Austin?” It’s not like we’d been chatting for more than a few minutes.
I want to say I blocked this guy an ran away. Instead I asked him a ton of questions until he started getting freaky (they always do). I kept it going for a bit because I REALLY wanted him to say something even weirder (I have the maturity of a 14 year old boy), but then I just kind of got bored and blocked him.
I proceeded to fall down a long dark Google rabbit hole in search of just how a women might be able to pee standing up. Turns out, this is a very real thing. There are not one but SEVERAL wikihow articles on how to go to the bathroom standing up as a women. You can use a weird funnel thing or the extremists (and apparently half of Japan according to this article) just push their pelvis forward and pee like a man… nay a genderless human being. The feminist in me added that last part.
I know how I’d like to see this entry end. Right here. No more. However, I am the curiousest of cats. I couldn’t resist trying. I mean, if you spend a solid hour reading about this wouldn’t you at least want to know if you could actually do it? Well, let me save you some time. Trying to pee standing up, unless you have patience and an extreme desire, is not worth the time. My bathroom was a mess and I feel like the internet was arranged in a way today to play a cruel cruel trick on me.
Net/Net: unless you want urine everywhere and massive cut to your ego, I’d present that booty to throne in time of number one. Go on you deserve the break. SQUATTERS UNITE.
I am not sure what it is about me that attracts the scum of the earth mixed with boys with severe emotional issues, but some how I do. Maybe it’s the booty. Maybe it’s my dazzling wit and unwavering ability to find a karaoke bar at 3 am that’s still open. Who knows.
I do recall that one guy told me I had “eyes that looked they were into freaky stuff.” Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. I blame you for giving me freak-a-leek vision. Now every man who catches my gaze is immediately getting the impression I once starred in porn. CURSE THESE EYES.
For evidence of the bat shit crazy that finds me in all mu online trysts in search of love, I present the below conversation from today’s endeavors. I’d like to note this was his response to “So what do you do in Austin?” It’s not like we’d been chatting for more than a few minutes.
I want to say I blocked this guy an ran away. Instead I asked him a ton of questions until he started getting freaky (they always do). I kept it going for a bit because I REALLY wanted him to say something even weirder (I have the maturity of a 14 year old boy), but then I just kind of got bored and blocked him.
I proceeded to fall down a long dark Google rabbit hole in search of just how a women might be able to pee standing up. Turns out, this is a very real thing. There are not one but SEVERAL wikihow articles on how to go to the bathroom standing up as a women. You can use a weird funnel thing or the extremists (and apparently half of Japan according to this article) just push their pelvis forward and pee like a man… nay a genderless human being. The feminist in me added that last part.
I know how I’d like to see this entry end. Right here. No more. However, I am the curiousest of cats. I couldn’t resist trying. I mean, if you spend a solid hour reading about this wouldn’t you at least want to know if you could actually do it? Well, let me save you some time. Trying to pee standing up, unless you have patience and an extreme desire, is not worth the time. My bathroom was a mess and I feel like the internet was arranged in a way today to play a cruel cruel trick on me.
Net/Net: unless you want urine everywhere and massive cut to your ego, I’d present that booty to throne in time of number one. Go on you deserve the break. SQUATTERS UNITE.
This appears to be the beginning of HAES time and bikini pics:
April 2015
"The other night I had some drinks. And by had some drinks, let’s just say I was “high-fiving strangers and inventing new dance moves that later get turned into animated gifs by your friends” drunk. When one gets to this special place, we sometimes come upon “great ideas.” My great idea was that I desperately needed tutus, that this was going to be my thing, and that one would not not be enough to fulfill my my tutu wearing fantasies. A couple of drunken amazon clicks later, I passed out and life moved on…. Until the following Monday. Two tutus show up, that I don’t remember purchasing and I have no idea what I going to do with."
SOOOOON the story will continue!
The HAES shit started it seems when she got her first promotion. There was this huge gap and suddenly shes getting fatter not going to work as often wearing the awful bikinis....
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thriphhole
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2020
I still feel like this is all an act, she is putting her pseudo insecurities on her IG to make it seem like she is going through "regular" girl struggle, to seem more relatable to her audience.
dropthesoap
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 10, 2019
Looking at these pictures is honestly kind of sad. She was losing weight and attractive (in a weird lady Gaga kind of way), and looked put together. I wonder how much weight she’s gained since these pictures.<Major Computer Crash had to make sure this saved - Will get it all fixed up in a few>
November 2013
<Still in UK, No talk about work at all>
Day 1:
Fat Camp at the Biggest Loser Resort Malibu wasn’t what I expected it to be. I had this weird notion that it was going to be easy. You know with all the lunges these thunder thighs have done, how hard could climbing a mountain or swimming laps would be? Hard. Really hard. And not physically hard, mentally hard.
Basically every ounce of your body gets sore and you have to be like ,” Yo body keep going.” And your body is all like, “bitch please, let’s source some caffeine from the black market.” And that’s where you find yourself in a dark alleyway of camper housing trying to swap your afternoon snack for a cup of black gold to take away the shakes. Ok, so maybe the fat camp black market doesn’t exist. And maybe I don’t feel driven to trade lewd acts for a cup of joe. But when I didn’t finish my afternoon snack and brought back to my cabin I did make copious jokes about how I was “packin’”. It’s funny to joke about food being a drug, only because for most of us here this week- it’s kind of true.
You’re probably wondering what we actually did today work out wise. Good wondering, because now I am going to fulfill your cerebral needs with a overview! Boom!
Supporting this exercise was a 1500 calorie meal plan ( so yummy!!!!) and a series of lectures on how to balance food and eat better. Since we had orientation, we actually had one less hour long fitness class than usual. TODAY IS GOING TO BE EVEN HARDER.
- We hiked 6 miles in and out of a mountain trail. The photo up top is the start of the trail- the first three of those were straight uphill! On the return I made the choice to run. My legs were angry with that decision.
- Circuit training was next. Here we did 2 minutes of intense cardio (again running, ugh) following by 2 minutes heavy lifting. 60 min.
- After circuit we did core. This was A LOT of planks, supermans, bird dogs and all other things that make you shake. This class was killer after circuit training. 60 min.
- We finished up the day with a pool class where we swam laps and did a variety of treading exercises. 60 min.
Woke up this Morning expecting to be super sore, but I am not. I have a feeling they got the exercise mix just perfectly to accomplish that. I am excited to kick some more ass today and make more progress towards awesome. Peace out campers.
Day 2:
OK. Yes. First thing is first- Fitness Review! *triple clap* Fitness Review.
The day started off right with another 6 mile hike led by the sassy, lovely and at times a bit kooky hike guides above. I was placed in group 4 (intermediate level something) and solidly led the pack for most of the hike. I am not sure if jet lag had been holding me back on my first hike, but I kicked some serious bubble butt on this one. Boom! The below is a photo of our group. I apologize for the fact that I look like a creepy uncle in this one, lurking in the background. Remember, it’s not a party unless at least one creeper shows up.
So, here’s rundown of how the rest of the day went workout wise: (Total workout time 7 hrs.)
Now on to the real point of this blog, my “night time activity”. Yes, I wrote it that was so it sounded way more interesting than what it really was- a visit to the chiropractor. Dr Ray (pictured above), is who many Biggest Loser Resort attendees call, “Miracle Worker.” I have never believed in chiropractors, but given the number of people I have heard freak out over him, I figure it’s $50 bucks, I can blog about it, whatever I’ll do it. My expectations were SUPER low.
- 6:00 am stretch: Totally necessary after yesterday! Plus I noticed that muscle in my crotch- I have no clue what the decent term is- was bugging me. Our trainer showed me ways to stretch it out and I probably will have a more interesting sex life as a result. (60 min)
- 11:15 am pool class: This class was optional, but I am so glad I did it. I’m a fish and extra water time made my day. I also love pool because the anti-gravity helps give your poor joints a rest. (60 min)
- 2:00 pm pool class: This pool class was hard as hell. Like seriously I never thought you could sweat so hard in the water. But let me tell you, hold a medicine ball above your head and try to tread water. It’s not easy. (60 min)
- 3:15 pm Cardio Intervals: This class we focused on building up to our max threshold of exertion and then doing a series of sprints on that level. I found myself on the treadmill at it’s steepest incline walking 4.0 mph. You might chastise me for walking, but walking that fast straight uphill (for me) is a bigger physical challenge then running really fast on a straight plain. (60 min)
- 4:15 pm Total Toning: Fact. I almost threw up in this class. Word to the wise for anyone who does this in the future, do light weights for this. Even if you can lift like a beast, do light weights. I used 18lbs/8kg arm weights (still less than my max) and mixed with all the cardio I was not doing so hot. Plus the room was “omg it’s a heat wave I am going to build a tent around my A/C and never leave” hot. Not ideal. Made it though. (60 min)
Let’s start with the basics, Dr. Ray is a stone cold fox. He’s also the nicest guy ever. If I wasn’t seeing someone I though was pretty awesome, I could see how having him jump on top of me for $50 would be worth it- success or not. This only lowered my expectations for actual relief. I told Dr Ray about the pain in my crotch muscles and he started stretching. As he stretched I explained how I rarely felt stretches in class. He explained how with mass weight loss the body can get weird and sometimes doesn’t adapt evenly. Next thing I knew my pain was gone and my legs were behind my head. What. The. Profanity.
When we finished, I was a convert. I asked, “So should I see a chiropractor regularly to fix this when my joints get weird?” His reply surprised me. He explained that I didn’t need a chiropractor, but a stretchologist. WHAT THE HELL IS A STRETCHOLOGIST? Apparently it is someone who can help you return to full flexibility after your joints and muscles stiffen up. SOLD. I am excited to add this piece of fitness to my training, because I can definitely tell what a difference it will make. Now, to find a stretchologist in London!
Day 3:
When you first show up at the Biggest Loser Resort, you have some preconceived notions. Mostly, that it will be mostly people with a lot of chub chub to get a hunka hunka burning. During the first meal you learn that this assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. About half the campers have a lot of weight to lose and the other half are split between people who have 5-30 lbs to lose and overly enthusiastic fitness lovers. Yes, people go to the Biggest Loser Resort just for a fitness ass kicking. At any weight, spending a week at this resort is pushing your body to new limits.
Yesterday, I was moved up to the van 5 hiking group. Van five is one of the hardest hiking vans. There’s only one more van above it and it’s for the people actually want to be pushed to run up mountains. I had done so well on the van 4 hike, that they had asked me if I wanted to be pushed a bit harder. Well, I didn’t fly to California to twiddle my thumbs! I came here to get my bum hard as a rock and my endurance tested. Of course I wanted to be in the challenge group!
On the ride over to the hike I got a little freaked out. Of the 50+ campers, only about 7 were in the advanced hiking groups. Of those 7, I was the only overweight person. It couldn’t be that bad, right? WRONG. Level 5 was at least 3 times harder than level 4. For example, the beginning of the hike was switchbacks all the way up to the top of a mountain- for 50 minutes. And we’re not talking leisurely up hill meanders either. Devil inclines. Vicious Ramps. Villainous climbs. The kind of rises, that if you took them the other way you’d have to side step down or risk falling to your death. About 35 minutes in, I hit a wall. I was bawling my eyes out.
“I should have stayed in van four. I was at the front in van four. It was rolling hills. I was running. I can’t do this. It hurts so bad. I can do this. No I can’t. Yes I can. I am the slowest person here. I hate this [long line of profanities] mountain. I wonder if I am on this hike to die. You know these girls will not be able to carry my body down. I won’t even have a proper funeral. All because I decided to “push” myself.”
As I cried in the middle of this mountain like a baby, I kept stepping. One painful step, after another. When I finally looked up I realized that while complaining I had managed to walk about 500 ft from the summit. Plus, the 3 other ladies in my group were smiling at me and cheering me on. Instantly, a new emotion came over me, I was capable of so much more than I thought I was. I just had to be willing to hurt a little to achieve more.
The rest of the hike was oddly much easier, though I still whined a bit at times. Mostly when we hit another steep slope; I would swear at it before stepping forth to conquer it. Some how that made it better. Swearing at things seems to work for me. When we finished the hike I felt awesome.
They say that Wednesday is the day everyone hits their wall. I guess this story is evidence of that. This mountain climb became an analogy for my life. There are so many ways I play it safe, taking the van 4, when I could be riding in van 5. Now I know that I have the strength inside me- mentally, physically, emotionally to challenge myself. I just have to be willing to believe I can push through the pain of a new challenge. It’s only impossible if I left myself believe it is. And, at the end of the journey there’s always someone at the end of the road, cheering me on when I need it most.
As I write this I can’t help to think back a year and a half ago when I first started. My challenges were so different. It was the people in my life who helped me push on. Standing on the mountain top, cheering my name. My amazing boss, who told me to go exercise when ever I was stressed. My CEO who promised to throw me a party and lend me his fancy sports car when I hit my goal weight (no Ragy, I have not forgotten). My friends who exercised with me in the beginning when it was so painfully hard. I am not sure if they know this, but talking to them as we walked was the only way I would forget about how much it hurt. My step mom, who researches gyms for me when home and makes my dad clear the house of all junk food. My father who calls me regularly to see if I need new gym shoes and to tell me how proud he is of me. My spin class front row bitches, who for the first time helped me feel comfortable in a gym. All the lovely ladies on the same journey as I am who swap stories and recipes with me. You are all part of my success and I am incredibly grateful.
Change is painfully hard. Thank you to everyone who has helped and continue to make my change bearable.
Day 4:
So yesterday was Thanksgiving at The Biggest Loser Resort and I feel like the day is best summed up in a cornucopia of photos.This because a) I actually took some b) I slept in and don’t have time to painfully blather on about my emotions. I am just kidding. I ALWAYS have time to fill these pages with excessive words and left of center descriptions! First is first, take a good look at the lovely ladies above. These girls have been my rock over the past few days and I am so excited to keep in touch with them. We are a pretty globally fierce group. Ladies be rocking the fitness sex appeal from Vancouver to NYC to Berlin. Hollah at yo mama. Aye, how aboot that. Glockspiel. (Sorry, this is the only word I know in German).
So to celebrate the biggest food fiesta holoiday of the year, we ran the first annual Biggest Loser Resort Malibu Turkey Trot. Being as I love a good theme, I ended up doing a couple people’s make-up. Actually, lies. Sam made me do his make-up. As much as I wanted to draw inappropriate 4th grade boy inspired things on his face, I am proud of myself for keeping it classy.
So when we actually got to running the race, I in short, killed it. I ran pretty much the whole thing, except for this crazy hard hill. That I walked. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I also accidentally got off course at one point and found this majestic carousel. I want you to know I had to Google how to type carousel… because that word is legitimately hard to spell. Actually, it was kind of a run down, beat up carousel, but you know I can’t turn down a good photo opp.
I accomplished my goal of running most of the race (minus that sucktastic super hill) and finished with a time of around 44 minutes. Hey I’ll take a 14 minute mile run with sore legs and majestic carousel distractions. I’d like to point out how sexy the photo of me looks. I love the shirt ridden up in the front look accented by my all in pastel cotton candy fabulous ensemble.
Now just in case you were thinking this all the sexy sweating we did. I say nay. In short the rest of the day went Gym. Pool. Eat. Gym. Pool. Gym.
Now let’s talk about the nommages, baby. I was shocked at the Thanksgiving dinner the resort was able to place in front of us for only 433 calories. I am pretty sure there is some dark magic happening in the kitchen. Maybe the chef is into voodoo. Or maybe he sold his soul for the ability to cook palatable, healthy food. I just don’t know. 433 CALORIES PEOPLE! That’s like eating one cup of your normal mashed potatoes and gravy on the day of thanks (and football, and booze, and annoying relatives).
It wasn’t just the dinner that blew my discerning tongue’s mind. The meal ended with a dessert that only further raised my suspicion of “cooking skills for soul” negotiations. This pumpkin creme brulee (93 calories) was so good all I wanted to do was to be dropped in a pool of it- with the only way to prevent myself from suffocating would be to eat my way out. Good news. I can make this completely realistic dream come true. I snagged the recipe. PRAISE ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD.
Day 5: <FPH States she is wrong about a lot of this post>
So one of the cool things about the Biggest Loser Resort is that they have a variety of high tech fancy fance extras you can indulge in to help you optimize your fitness routine and diet. One such extra that I found extremely helpful was the RMR test. RMR stands for resting metabolic rate, which is essentially how many calories you would burn if you sat on your butt all day watching family guy. Now there are ways to estimate this number, but if you REALLY want to know how much you burn on the regular you need to find someone with a fancy machine and tube you can breathe into for around 20 minutes. Then- Beep. Beep. Beep. You have a shiny little paper output that shows you your RMR.
Here you can see my RMR is 2,405- that’s a full 500 calories than most metabolic estimate equations would predict. That means my body may not feel satisfied eating a 1500 calories (unless it’s perfectly nutritionally balanced); to lose effectively I really should stay closer to 1900. YAY MORE FOOD. FAT KID DANCE HOUR.
Being a curious cat, I did some expert googling to try and figure out why my RMR is higher than average. Now according to the internet, I am either packing a shit ton of male hormones (call me Manna), am stressed out to no end, dying of a serious illness or am one heck of a fitness beast. I am going to pretend it’s the sexy six pack I house under my plushy plumpness that’s upping my energy burn. If you want to know more about what affects your resting metabolic rate, I found this PDF really helpful.
In the end this information is going to be super useful as I optimize my workout and meal plan. Following another big tip I learned from the ranch, I am going to be rocking a 30% fat, 30% protein, and 40% carb diet. Well as close as one can get living a life of crazy start-uppedness and incessant jazz hands. I am excited to put all this new knowledge to work!
I am going to end this post with a really pretty picture I took at the beach when we were on -yes- another hike. It has absolutely nothing to do with RMR. It’s just too dang fabulous not to share
Final:
Ladies and gentleman (and sassy gays) I report live to you from the Houston airport lounge very much well and alive. I have survived the all out fitness frenzy and have lived to blog about it yet again. I feel a bit sad that I have left behind catered meals and days fully free to exercise, but alas I must return to real life. Sigh.
On the last day of camp they pushed us through a crazy cray last chance workout. If you completed said work out you got a chic moisture wick headband which I am oh so casually modeling in the photo above. What can I say, the camera LOVES me. Anyhoo, for my weeks last chance work out we had to haul some serious booty. Here’s a run down of what we had to do:
- Bike 3 miles.
- Do 50 sit up crunches on one of those half big ball things
- 50 weighted ball throws (10 lbs or higher)
- 50 weighted squat thrusts
- 50 squated rows.
- Pushed an annoyingly large and heavy punching bag across the room and back 5 times.
- 50 plank up and downs (or as I like to call them the fitness move of Satan)
- A mile on the treadmill
- 50 total squats with a leg lift (25 each leg)
- 25 burpies
I completed this round of physical terror in 35 minutes and 36 seconds. I finished third in the whole retreat. I felt like a full on beast. My male alter-ego (Manna) really wanted to rip her shirt off and grunt. Luckily, I only let Manna on very rare occasions. I am a lady and do lady things.
Now onto the real reason you all are reading this blog- my results. Well ladies and gentleman, they were pretty freaking fantastic. I set a goal of sexily sweating off 7 lbs this week and I creamed that goal by losing 10.6 LBS!!!! For those of you muttering “water weight” under your breathe, I say “NAY!” The Biggest Loser Resort has fancy weigh-in machines that tell you exactly what that loss was composed of. For me, that weight loss was made up of 8.6 lbs of fat, .2 lbs dry lean body mass and 1.8 lbs water. So you doubters can suck it. I also lost 1.5 inches off my bust, waist and hips. Now, I am pretty sure most of the weight came off thighs and bootay, so those measurements wouldn’t really surface that loss. I am extremely happy with my results and I am already planning a trip back next thanksgiving with a few of the girls I met in Malibu.
I am so ready to start the next phase of my weight loss journey.
Decembery 2013
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"I want to fly someone home for the holidays. Given that I just decided to do this and have a relatively short window to book the ticket, you’ll need to leave a comment by this Sunday to be considered. I am sorry I can’t fly everyone who might comment home. I’ll announce the winner and book their trip Monday. Unfortunately, I don’t have as many miles as Peter, so I’ll only be able to fly one (maybe two?) people home.You’ll be flying United.
In a bold twist, (why not? I like to be flashy.) it can be international. However, you need to be responsible for being able to fly to whatever that country is legally. Ain’t nobody got time to figure that out for you."
And wtf happened to the original lazers???
wellthen
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2019
Since this portion of her site is fighting with archiving software gonna end this post here so I don't lose everythingNovember 2013
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<Still in UK, No talk about work at all>
Day 1:
Fat Camp at the Biggest Loser Resort Malibu wasn’t what I expected it to be. I had this weird notion that it was going to be easy. You know with all the lunges these thunder thighs have done, how hard could climbing a mountain or swimming laps would be? Hard. Really hard. And not physically hard, mentally hard.
Basically every ounce of your body gets sore and you have to be like ,” Yo body keep going.” And your body is all like, “bitch please, let’s source some caffeine from the black market.” And that’s where you find yourself in a dark alleyway of camper housing trying to swap your afternoon snack for a cup of black gold to take away the shakes. Ok, so maybe the fat camp black market doesn’t exist. And maybe I don’t feel driven to trade lewd acts for a cup of joe. But when I didn’t finish my afternoon snack and brought back to my cabin I did make copious jokes about how I was “packin’”. It’s funny to joke about food being a drug, only because for most of us here this week- it’s kind of true.
You’re probably wondering what we actually did today work out wise. Good wondering, because now I am going to fulfill your cerebral needs with a overview! Boom!
Supporting this exercise was a 1500 calorie meal plan ( so yummy!!!!) and a series of lectures on how to balance food and eat better. Since we had orientation, we actually had one less hour long fitness class than usual. TODAY IS GOING TO BE EVEN HARDER.
- We hiked 6 miles in and out of a mountain trail. The photo up top is the start of the trail- the first three of those were straight uphill! On the return I made the choice to run. My legs were angry with that decision.
- Circuit training was next. Here we did 2 minutes of intense cardio (again running, ugh) following by 2 minutes heavy lifting. 60 min.
- After circuit we did core. This was A LOT of planks, supermans, bird dogs and all other things that make you shake. This class was killer after circuit training. 60 min.
- We finished up the day with a pool class where we swam laps and did a variety of treading exercises. 60 min.
Woke up this Morning expecting to be super sore, but I am not. I have a feeling they got the exercise mix just perfectly to accomplish that. I am excited to kick some more ass today and make more progress towards awesome. Peace out campers.
Day 2:
OK. Yes. First thing is first- Fitness Review! *triple clap* Fitness Review.
The day started off right with another 6 mile hike led by the sassy, lovely and at times a bit kooky hike guides above. I was placed in group 4 (intermediate level something) and solidly led the pack for most of the hike. I am not sure if jet lag had been holding me back on my first hike, but I kicked some serious bubble butt on this one. Boom! The below is a photo of our group. I apologize for the fact that I look like a creepy uncle in this one, lurking in the background. Remember, it’s not a party unless at least one creeper shows up.
So, here’s rundown of how the rest of the day went workout wise: (Total workout time 7 hrs.)
Now on to the real point of this blog, my “night time activity”. Yes, I wrote it that was so it sounded way more interesting than what it really was- a visit to the chiropractor. Dr Ray (pictured above), is who many Biggest Loser Resort attendees call, “Miracle Worker.” I have never believed in chiropractors, but given the number of people I have heard freak out over him, I figure it’s $50 bucks, I can blog about it, whatever I’ll do it. My expectations were SUPER low.
- 6:00 am stretch: Totally necessary after yesterday! Plus I noticed that muscle in my crotch- I have no clue what the decent term is- was bugging me. Our trainer showed me ways to stretch it out and I probably will have a more interesting sex life as a result. (60 min)
- 11:15 am pool class: This class was optional, but I am so glad I did it. I’m a fish and extra water time made my day. I also love pool because the anti-gravity helps give your poor joints a rest. (60 min)
- 2:00 pm pool class: This pool class was hard as hell. Like seriously I never thought you could sweat so hard in the water. But let me tell you, hold a medicine ball above your head and try to tread water. It’s not easy. (60 min)
- 3:15 pm Cardio Intervals: This class we focused on building up to our max threshold of exertion and then doing a series of sprints on that level. I found myself on the treadmill at it’s steepest incline walking 4.0 mph. You might chastise me for walking, but walking that fast straight uphill (for me) is a bigger physical challenge then running really fast on a straight plain. (60 min)
- 4:15 pm Total Toning: Fact. I almost threw up in this class. Word to the wise for anyone who does this in the future, do light weights for this. Even if you can lift like a beast, do light weights. I used 18lbs/8kg arm weights (still less than my max) and mixed with all the cardio I was not doing so hot. Plus the room was “omg it’s a heat wave I am going to build a tent around my A/C and never leave” hot. Not ideal. Made it though. (60 min)
Let’s start with the basics, Dr. Ray is a stone cold fox. He’s also the nicest guy ever. If I wasn’t seeing someone I though was pretty awesome, I could see how having him jump on top of me for $50 would be worth it- success or not. This only lowered my expectations for actual relief. I told Dr Ray about the pain in my crotch muscles and he started stretching. As he stretched I explained how I rarely felt stretches in class. He explained how with mass weight loss the body can get weird and sometimes doesn’t adapt evenly. Next thing I knew my pain was gone and my legs were behind my head. What. The. Profanity.
When we finished, I was a convert. I asked, “So should I see a chiropractor regularly to fix this when my joints get weird?” His reply surprised me. He explained that I didn’t need a chiropractor, but a stretchologist. WHAT THE HELL IS A STRETCHOLOGIST? Apparently it is someone who can help you return to full flexibility after your joints and muscles stiffen up. SOLD. I am excited to add this piece of fitness to my training, because I can definitely tell what a difference it will make. Now, to find a stretchologist in London!
Day 3:
When you first show up at the Biggest Loser Resort, you have some preconceived notions. Mostly, that it will be mostly people with a lot of chub chub to get a hunka hunka burning. During the first meal you learn that this assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. About half the campers have a lot of weight to lose and the other half are split between people who have 5-30 lbs to lose and overly enthusiastic fitness lovers. Yes, people go to the Biggest Loser Resort just for a fitness ass kicking. At any weight, spending a week at this resort is pushing your body to new limits.
Yesterday, I was moved up to the van 5 hiking group. Van five is one of the hardest hiking vans. There’s only one more van above it and it’s for the people actually want to be pushed to run up mountains. I had done so well on the van 4 hike, that they had asked me if I wanted to be pushed a bit harder. Well, I didn’t fly to California to twiddle my thumbs! I came here to get my bum hard as a rock and my endurance tested. Of course I wanted to be in the challenge group!
On the ride over to the hike I got a little freaked out. Of the 50+ campers, only about 7 were in the advanced hiking groups. Of those 7, I was the only overweight person. It couldn’t be that bad, right? WRONG. Level 5 was at least 3 times harder than level 4. For example, the beginning of the hike was switchbacks all the way up to the top of a mountain- for 50 minutes. And we’re not talking leisurely up hill meanders either. Devil inclines. Vicious Ramps. Villainous climbs. The kind of rises, that if you took them the other way you’d have to side step down or risk falling to your death. About 35 minutes in, I hit a wall. I was bawling my eyes out.
“I should have stayed in van four. I was at the front in van four. It was rolling hills. I was running. I can’t do this. It hurts so bad. I can do this. No I can’t. Yes I can. I am the slowest person here. I hate this [long line of profanities] mountain. I wonder if I am on this hike to die. You know these girls will not be able to carry my body down. I won’t even have a proper funeral. All because I decided to “push” myself.”
As I cried in the middle of this mountain like a baby, I kept stepping. One painful step, after another. When I finally looked up I realized that while complaining I had managed to walk about 500 ft from the summit. Plus, the 3 other ladies in my group were smiling at me and cheering me on. Instantly, a new emotion came over me, I was capable of so much more than I thought I was. I just had to be willing to hurt a little to achieve more.
The rest of the hike was oddly much easier, though I still whined a bit at times. Mostly when we hit another steep slope; I would swear at it before stepping forth to conquer it. Some how that made it better. Swearing at things seems to work for me. When we finished the hike I felt awesome.
They say that Wednesday is the day everyone hits their wall. I guess this story is evidence of that. This mountain climb became an analogy for my life. There are so many ways I play it safe, taking the van 4, when I could be riding in van 5. Now I know that I have the strength inside me- mentally, physically, emotionally to challenge myself. I just have to be willing to believe I can push through the pain of a new challenge. It’s only impossible if I left myself believe it is. And, at the end of the journey there’s always someone at the end of the road, cheering me on when I need it most.
As I write this I can’t help to think back a year and a half ago when I first started. My challenges were so different. It was the people in my life who helped me push on. Standing on the mountain top, cheering my name. My amazing boss, who told me to go exercise when ever I was stressed. My CEO who promised to throw me a party and lend me his fancy sports car when I hit my goal weight (no Ragy, I have not forgotten). My friends who exercised with me in the beginning when it was so painfully hard. I am not sure if they know this, but talking to them as we walked was the only way I would forget about how much it hurt. My step mom, who researches gyms for me when home and makes my dad clear the house of all junk food. My father who calls me regularly to see if I need new gym shoes and to tell me how proud he is of me. My spin class front row bitches, who for the first time helped me feel comfortable in a gym. All the lovely ladies on the same journey as I am who swap stories and recipes with me. You are all part of my success and I am incredibly grateful.
Change is painfully hard. Thank you to everyone who has helped and continue to make my change bearable.
Day 4:
So yesterday was Thanksgiving at The Biggest Loser Resort and I feel like the day is best summed up in a cornucopia of photos.This because a) I actually took some b) I slept in and don’t have time to painfully blather on about my emotions. I am just kidding. I ALWAYS have time to fill these pages with excessive words and left of center descriptions! First is first, take a good look at the lovely ladies above. These girls have been my rock over the past few days and I am so excited to keep in touch with them. We are a pretty globally fierce group. Ladies be rocking the fitness sex appeal from Vancouver to NYC to Berlin. Hollah at yo mama. Aye, how aboot that. Glockspiel. (Sorry, this is the only word I know in German).
So to celebrate the biggest food fiesta holoiday of the year, we ran the first annual Biggest Loser Resort Malibu Turkey Trot. Being as I love a good theme, I ended up doing a couple people’s make-up. Actually, lies. Sam made me do his make-up. As much as I wanted to draw inappropriate 4th grade boy inspired things on his face, I am proud of myself for keeping it classy.
So when we actually got to running the race, I in short, killed it. I ran pretty much the whole thing, except for this crazy hard hill. That I walked. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I also accidentally got off course at one point and found this majestic carousel. I want you to know I had to Google how to type carousel… because that word is legitimately hard to spell. Actually, it was kind of a run down, beat up carousel, but you know I can’t turn down a good photo opp.
I accomplished my goal of running most of the race (minus that sucktastic super hill) and finished with a time of around 44 minutes. Hey I’ll take a 14 minute mile run with sore legs and majestic carousel distractions. I’d like to point out how sexy the photo of me looks. I love the shirt ridden up in the front look accented by my all in pastel cotton candy fabulous ensemble.
Now just in case you were thinking this all the sexy sweating we did. I say nay. In short the rest of the day went Gym. Pool. Eat. Gym. Pool. Gym.
Now let’s talk about the nommages, baby. I was shocked at the Thanksgiving dinner the resort was able to place in front of us for only 433 calories. I am pretty sure there is some dark magic happening in the kitchen. Maybe the chef is into voodoo. Or maybe he sold his soul for the ability to cook palatable, healthy food. I just don’t know. 433 CALORIES PEOPLE! That’s like eating one cup of your normal mashed potatoes and gravy on the day of thanks (and football, and booze, and annoying relatives).
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It wasn’t just the dinner that blew my discerning tongue’s mind. The meal ended with a dessert that only further raised my suspicion of “cooking skills for soul” negotiations. This pumpkin creme brulee (93 calories) was so good all I wanted to do was to be dropped in a pool of it- with the only way to prevent myself from suffocating would be to eat my way out. Good news. I can make this completely realistic dream come true. I snagged the recipe. PRAISE ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD.
Day 5: <FPH States she is wrong about a lot of this post>
View attachment 2046731
So one of the cool things about the Biggest Loser Resort is that they have a variety of high tech fancy fance extras you can indulge in to help you optimize your fitness routine and diet. One such extra that I found extremely helpful was the RMR test. RMR stands for resting metabolic rate, which is essentially how many calories you would burn if you sat on your butt all day watching family guy. Now there are ways to estimate this number, but if you REALLY want to know how much you burn on the regular you need to find someone with a fancy machine and tube you can breathe into for around 20 minutes. Then- Beep. Beep. Beep. You have a shiny little paper output that shows you your RMR.
View attachment 2046738
Here you can see my RMR is 2,405- that’s a full 500 calories than most metabolic estimate equations would predict. That means my body may not feel satisfied eating a 1500 calories (unless it’s perfectly nutritionally balanced); to lose effectively I really should stay closer to 1900. YAY MORE FOOD. FAT KID DANCE HOUR.
Being a curious cat, I did some expert googling to try and figure out why my RMR is higher than average. Now according to the internet, I am either packing a shit ton of male hormones (call me Manna), am stressed out to no end, dying of a serious illness or am one heck of a fitness beast. I am going to pretend it’s the sexy six pack I house under my plushy plumpness that’s upping my energy burn. If you want to know more about what affects your resting metabolic rate, I found this PDF really helpful.
In the end this information is going to be super useful as I optimize my workout and meal plan. Following another big tip I learned from the ranch, I am going to be rocking a 30% fat, 30% protein, and 40% carb diet. Well as close as one can get living a life of crazy start-uppedness and incessant jazz hands. I am excited to put all this new knowledge to work!
I am going to end this post with a really pretty picture I took at the beach when we were on -yes- another hike. It has absolutely nothing to do with RMR. It’s just too dang fabulous not to share
Final:
Ladies and gentleman (and sassy gays) I report live to you from the Houston airport lounge very much well and alive. I have survived the all out fitness frenzy and have lived to blog about it yet again. I feel a bit sad that I have left behind catered meals and days fully free to exercise, but alas I must return to real life. Sigh.
On the last day of camp they pushed us through a crazy cray last chance workout. If you completed said work out you got a chic moisture wick headband which I am oh so casually modeling in the photo above. What can I say, the camera LOVES me. Anyhoo, for my weeks last chance work out we had to haul some serious booty. Here’s a run down of what we had to do:
- Bike 3 miles.
- Do 50 sit up crunches on one of those half big ball things
- 50 weighted ball throws (10 lbs or higher)
- 50 weighted squat thrusts
- 50 squated rows.
- Pushed an annoyingly large and heavy punching bag across the room and back 5 times.
- 50 plank up and downs (or as I like to call them the fitness move of Satan)
- A mile on the treadmill
- 50 total squats with a leg lift (25 each leg)
- 25 burpies
I completed this round of physical terror in 35 minutes and 36 seconds. I finished third in the whole retreat. I felt like a full on beast. My male alter-ego (Manna) really wanted to rip her shirt off and grunt. Luckily, I only let Manna on very rare occasions. I am a lady and do lady things.
Now onto the real reason you all are reading this blog- my results. Well ladies and gentleman, they were pretty freaking fantastic. I set a goal of sexily sweating off 7 lbs this week and I creamed that goal by losing 10.6 LBS!!!! For those of you muttering “water weight” under your breathe, I say “NAY!” The Biggest Loser Resort has fancy weigh-in machines that tell you exactly what that loss was composed of. For me, that weight loss was made up of 8.6 lbs of fat, .2 lbs dry lean body mass and 1.8 lbs water. So you doubters can suck it. I also lost 1.5 inches off my bust, waist and hips. Now, I am pretty sure most of the weight came off thighs and bootay, so those measurements wouldn’t really surface that loss. I am extremely happy with my results and I am already planning a trip back next thanksgiving with a few of the girls I met in Malibu.
I am so ready to start the next phase of my weight loss journey.
Decembery 2013
View attachment 2046743
"I want to fly someone home for the holidays. Given that I just decided to do this and have a relatively short window to book the ticket, you’ll need to leave a comment by this Sunday to be considered. I am sorry I can’t fly everyone who might comment home. I’ll announce the winner and book their trip Monday. Unfortunately, I don’t have as many miles as Peter, so I’ll only be able to fly one (maybe two?) people home.You’ll be flying United.
In a bold twist, (why not? I like to be flashy.) it can be international. However, you need to be responsible for being able to fly to whatever that country is legally. Ain’t nobody got time to figure that out for you."
<LONG Break>
March 2015
View attachment 2046763
"It’s not like amazing things haven’t happened. I went on an insane internet date with a psuedo internet celebrity where we drank 40’s in Brad Pitt’s driveway, had a classy meal at Taco Bell, and ended the evening by playing a rousing game of “is that male pole dancer covered in glitter straight or gay?” I also moved to Austin, designed the apartment of my dreams, and finally crossed that whole “dying my hair blue” item of my bucket list. I’ve had plenty to write about, I just simply haven’t been able to get my proverbial shit together."
View attachment 2046784
From Dude's Blog:
View attachment 2046778
Anna wound up with a few thousand more votes than anyone else, and awesomely agreed to fly all the way from Austin TX to meet me in L.A. Anna gets a single text message instructing her to meet me by the fountain at the Hollywood Grove at 6pm. She arrives to find me holding the 2 goldfish we would name Candy and Butts before releasing them to freedom. Ok dinner's over. We picked up 40's at the liquor store and hitched an uber to Brad Pitt's. The driver was a little worried when he heard our plan, but he wound up getting really pumped for our mission and parked 50 ft. downhill with the engine running so we could make a clean getaway. It took roughly 45 seconds for security to notice our presence, but they were super cool. They asked what we were doing. We said, "drinking 40s for valentine's day." They said "Ok drink fast" and returned inside. We decided things couldn't get much more absurd, so we asked the driver to take us to the biggest gay club in hollywood. He complied. I dared Anna to rub up on one of the go-go dancers. She complied. Anna dared me to jump on stage and swing around the stripper pole without getting caught. I figured this would get me swiftly ejected, but it turned out way better than expected. "
I swear every time I enter the online dating world again I think to myself, “It can’t get any weirder than it’s already has been.” That my friends is the biggest, fattest, juiciest lie I tell myself on a semi annual basis. It ALWAYS gets weirder.
I am not sure what it is about me that attracts the scum of the earth mixed with boys with severe emotional issues, but some how I do. Maybe it’s the booty. Maybe it’s my dazzling wit and unwavering ability to find a karaoke bar at 3 am that’s still open. Who knows.
I do recall that one guy told me I had “eyes that looked they were into freaky stuff.” Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. I blame you for giving me freak-a-leek vision. Now every man who catches my gaze is immediately getting the impression I once starred in porn. CURSE THESE EYES.
For evidence of the bat shit crazy that finds me in all mu online trysts in search of love, I present the below conversation from today’s endeavors. I’d like to note this was his response to “So what do you do in Austin?” It’s not like we’d been chatting for more than a few minutes.
View attachment 2046797
I want to say I blocked this guy an ran away. Instead I asked him a ton of questions until he started getting freaky (they always do). I kept it going for a bit because I REALLY wanted him to say something even weirder (I have the maturity of a 14 year old boy), but then I just kind of got bored and blocked him.
I proceeded to fall down a long dark Google rabbit hole in search of just how a women might be able to pee standing up. Turns out, this is a very real thing. There are not one but SEVERAL wikihow articles on how to go to the bathroom standing up as a women. You can use a weird funnel thing or the extremists (and apparently half of Japan according to this article) just push their pelvis forward and pee like a man… nay a genderless human being. The feminist in me added that last part.
I know how I’d like to see this entry end. Right here. No more. However, I am the curiousest of cats. I couldn’t resist trying. I mean, if you spend a solid hour reading about this wouldn’t you at least want to know if you could actually do it? Well, let me save you some time. Trying to pee standing up, unless you have patience and an extreme desire, is not worth the time. My bathroom was a mess and I feel like the internet was arranged in a way today to play a cruel cruel trick on me.
Net/Net: unless you want urine everywhere and massive cut to your ego, I’d present that booty to throne in time of number one. Go on you deserve the break. SQUATTERS UNITE.
This appears to be the beginning of HAES time and bikini pics:
View attachment 2046800View attachment 2046812
April 2015
View attachment 2046816
"The other night I had some drinks. And by had some drinks, let’s just say I was “high-fiving strangers and inventing new dance moves that later get turned into animated gifs by your friends” drunk. When one gets to this special place, we sometimes come upon “great ideas.” My great idea was that I desperately needed tutus, that this was going to be my thing, and that one would not not be enough to fulfill my my tutu wearing fantasies. A couple of drunken amazon clicks later, I passed out and life moved on…. Until the following Monday. Two tutus show up, that I don’t remember purchasing and I have no idea what I going to do with."
SOOOOON the story will continue!
If I recall correctly she moved to the UK to help open Sprinklr’s office there...
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2019
There are a lot of time skips here where she either didn't post or just posted pinterest outfits.
June 2015
A week of Styles <Some of these were worn to work....>
Yoga
"If going about this alone is overwhelming, check online and see if there is a yoga studio in your area that offers classes that cater to the larger ladies. It will be a great benefit to the yoga beginner to learn modifications and find a teacher who has experience working with bigger bodies."
Looks like shes always been into wearing things that are WAY WAY childish:
Belle from Beauty and the Beast
July 2015
"So when I made my life list eons ago I snuck on there something I thought would finally give me the va va voom I was missing. Pole dancing. See what I didn’t know then, but definitely know now, is that sexiness isn’t a dance move. It’s confidence in who you are and trust in your body to express how you are feeling. So if you’re feeling like a sex cat in heat, you’re body is going to radiate sexy like it’s holding a neon sign that says “this girl needs to man to worship her.”
Pole Dancing was surprisingly plus size friendly. I didn’t feel like I was exhausted after class and I feel I learned some new erm * cough cough* useful moves for my non-existent life partner to enjoy. I can now crawl like a sexy tiger, go down a fire man’s pole like I’m J LO pre-record deal, and have learned how to close out a routine like a fine as freak fantasy female and most importantly “collect my money.” You know with this booty, the money collection part would likely take forever. I was surprised that as I finished that the others in class could resist the urge to shower me generously with paper. Holler for a dollar."
Ariel
Jasmine
January 2016
She states she wears a 3x. She is very obviously thinner then she is now so can only imagine her real size now.
<Seems she had no issue pretending to not have money to purchase things to get goods from companies>
"So I’ve pretty much been stalking K-Deer for a year. This is not a lie. This is reality. I saw a pair of neon striped leggings on one of the swan like yoga goddesses I have the pleasure of following and I lusted hard. I mean NEON. STRIPES. Now eventually I did a bold, thing, which I am not super proud of, and asked if K-Deer would give me a little discount so I could afford this necessary pair of wonder tights. The truth is I don’t make any real money writing this silly blog, but I magically find tons and tons of ways to spend money using it as a justification. Shopping is now a disaster zone with me, because I always have an excuse for that one little extra purchase. My wallet just makes a weep womp sound when I open it.
Anyways K-Deer took pity on my poor fiscally constrained soul and instead of giving me a discount, gave me a free pair of their radtastic leggings to try out. AND A WATER BOTTLE. It’s like one of those fancy water bottles too, the type you can put fruit in and infuse water."
"So I did two things today I’ve never done before.
February 2016
A week of Styles <Some of these were worn to work....>
Yoga
"If going about this alone is overwhelming, check online and see if there is a yoga studio in your area that offers classes that cater to the larger ladies. It will be a great benefit to the yoga beginner to learn modifications and find a teacher who has experience working with bigger bodies."
Looks like shes always been into wearing things that are WAY WAY childish:
Belle from Beauty and the Beast
July 2015
"So when I made my life list eons ago I snuck on there something I thought would finally give me the va va voom I was missing. Pole dancing. See what I didn’t know then, but definitely know now, is that sexiness isn’t a dance move. It’s confidence in who you are and trust in your body to express how you are feeling. So if you’re feeling like a sex cat in heat, you’re body is going to radiate sexy like it’s holding a neon sign that says “this girl needs to man to worship her.”
Pole Dancing was surprisingly plus size friendly. I didn’t feel like I was exhausted after class and I feel I learned some new erm * cough cough* useful moves for my non-existent life partner to enjoy. I can now crawl like a sexy tiger, go down a fire man’s pole like I’m J LO pre-record deal, and have learned how to close out a routine like a fine as freak fantasy female and most importantly “collect my money.” You know with this booty, the money collection part would likely take forever. I was surprised that as I finished that the others in class could resist the urge to shower me generously with paper. Holler for a dollar."
Ariel
Jasmine
January 2016
She states she wears a 3x. She is very obviously thinner then she is now so can only imagine her real size now.
Being overweight is unhealthy, and why I don’t care
I’ve been thinking a lot about how society tries to conceptualize health. We’re in many ways constantly seeing health shown as a black and white property-that we are either alive and well or on a quick path to death. When we look at the definition of health, we actually see it referred to as measurement of various components. Health isn’t a state, it is a score. It’s a combination of a million of individual data points that interact and create a state of health. In fact, your health could be better or worse when you wake up than it is when you go to bed. It’s a measurement of constant fluctuation and variance. You can be more or less healthy, but not just “healthy.” Yes we are encouraged to walk around trying to categorize people as healthy or not by a single component (weight, activity level, diet). Health isn’t that simple.
The data points that make up health are broad because they encompass several types of data: such as states of being, your actions, the actions of others and your accessibility to certain resources. Plus those types of data correspond to different types of health: mental, social, and physical. For example, I could choose to never drink beer again, that might affect my physical health positively while negatively affecting my mental and social health. Furthermore there’s no universal guideline as to how an individual’s health will be affected by each interaction. For example, if I develop an allergy to strawberries, they suddenly become an unhealthy choice for me. Sure there are things that are likely to be healthy, but there are no universal rules in classification.
Now lets make it really messy. Some of these factors are completely within your control, others are a product of the environment and social class you were born into, the genetics your parents passed to you, and the people that you interacted with that day. You can spend every waking hour trying to optimize every choice you make for an optimal score of total health. You can turn your life into a pseudo video game- always trying to up your life bar. Even then, though you may have tried and worked hard to make the best and healthiest choices possible at all times and in all circumstances, you could find some unknown variable (such as hidden genetic predisposition) that could significantly and suddenly affect your health.
The best you can do make healthy choices. Making those choices isn’t as easy as reading a bunch of fitness magazines; even the top experts don’t agree on what the healthiest choices are. Instead, we should learn to listen to our bodies, and with feedback from our doctors make changes that over time increase our total health. But those changes shouldn’t focus on one type of health. Often physical health is elevated diminishing just how important mental and social health are.
I am an unhealthy weight. I have a healthy activity level. I make healthy choices in whose opinion I value. I have a healthy respect for others. I have a healthy home-life free of disease. I believe the positive choices I make daily greatly outweigh a single data point when it comes to evaluating my total health. Sure, it’s hard to deal with the fact that my negative health data points are more socially taboo then other peoples, but that’s life. Regardless of how much people try to simplify the composite picture of health into a single imperfect measure, I refuse to accept that as a reflection of who I am, my health and how much living I can do.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how society tries to conceptualize health. We’re in many ways constantly seeing health shown as a black and white property-that we are either alive and well or on a quick path to death. When we look at the definition of health, we actually see it referred to as measurement of various components. Health isn’t a state, it is a score. It’s a combination of a million of individual data points that interact and create a state of health. In fact, your health could be better or worse when you wake up than it is when you go to bed. It’s a measurement of constant fluctuation and variance. You can be more or less healthy, but not just “healthy.” Yes we are encouraged to walk around trying to categorize people as healthy or not by a single component (weight, activity level, diet). Health isn’t that simple.
The data points that make up health are broad because they encompass several types of data: such as states of being, your actions, the actions of others and your accessibility to certain resources. Plus those types of data correspond to different types of health: mental, social, and physical. For example, I could choose to never drink beer again, that might affect my physical health positively while negatively affecting my mental and social health. Furthermore there’s no universal guideline as to how an individual’s health will be affected by each interaction. For example, if I develop an allergy to strawberries, they suddenly become an unhealthy choice for me. Sure there are things that are likely to be healthy, but there are no universal rules in classification.
Now lets make it really messy. Some of these factors are completely within your control, others are a product of the environment and social class you were born into, the genetics your parents passed to you, and the people that you interacted with that day. You can spend every waking hour trying to optimize every choice you make for an optimal score of total health. You can turn your life into a pseudo video game- always trying to up your life bar. Even then, though you may have tried and worked hard to make the best and healthiest choices possible at all times and in all circumstances, you could find some unknown variable (such as hidden genetic predisposition) that could significantly and suddenly affect your health.
The best you can do make healthy choices. Making those choices isn’t as easy as reading a bunch of fitness magazines; even the top experts don’t agree on what the healthiest choices are. Instead, we should learn to listen to our bodies, and with feedback from our doctors make changes that over time increase our total health. But those changes shouldn’t focus on one type of health. Often physical health is elevated diminishing just how important mental and social health are.
I am an unhealthy weight. I have a healthy activity level. I make healthy choices in whose opinion I value. I have a healthy respect for others. I have a healthy home-life free of disease. I believe the positive choices I make daily greatly outweigh a single data point when it comes to evaluating my total health. Sure, it’s hard to deal with the fact that my negative health data points are more socially taboo then other peoples, but that’s life. Regardless of how much people try to simplify the composite picture of health into a single imperfect measure, I refuse to accept that as a reflection of who I am, my health and how much living I can do.
<Seems she had no issue pretending to not have money to purchase things to get goods from companies>
"So I’ve pretty much been stalking K-Deer for a year. This is not a lie. This is reality. I saw a pair of neon striped leggings on one of the swan like yoga goddesses I have the pleasure of following and I lusted hard. I mean NEON. STRIPES. Now eventually I did a bold, thing, which I am not super proud of, and asked if K-Deer would give me a little discount so I could afford this necessary pair of wonder tights. The truth is I don’t make any real money writing this silly blog, but I magically find tons and tons of ways to spend money using it as a justification. Shopping is now a disaster zone with me, because I always have an excuse for that one little extra purchase. My wallet just makes a weep womp sound when I open it.
Anyways K-Deer took pity on my poor fiscally constrained soul and instead of giving me a discount, gave me a free pair of their radtastic leggings to try out. AND A WATER BOTTLE. It’s like one of those fancy water bottles too, the type you can put fruit in and infuse water."
"So I did two things today I’ve never done before.
- I took photos is my underwear
- Was part of a fashion magazine photo shoot
February 2016
So many many moons ago I used to travel excessively for work. I lived out of a suitcase and trained myself to pass out on flights; sometimes it was the only sleep I got. I had one of those jet-set lives you see on TV, except with no hair and make up team, coach tickets, and way too much work to do. I’d be in the UK one day, Paris the next and then find myself on a 14 trip to Thailand with a presentation to do while at the same time passive aggressive battling with the women behind me to keep her from shoving her dirty un-socked feet in between the seats and inconveniently into my lap. Shudder. The memories. The Smell. The toe jam. Living it was exhausting.
However on the outside looking in, my life looked amazing. Many people even joked that I didn’t work, and had somehow made travel my life. So when the ladies of SNL did a skit called “Dongs all over the world” about girls traveling the world, and crossing the countries off the map once they’d gotten it in- my friends chuckled to themselves and thought of me. Here’s the video if you haven’t seen it. Because, you really should. It’s catchy, sassy and Anna Kendrick (GIRL CRUSH ALERT) plays the ring leader .
Naturally given my line of work and constant travel schedule, when the video first aired, I wasn’t able to catch it on the boob tube. I didn’t have any idea that this little lady sex anthem gem even existed. Until of course, my friends got a hold of me. The video began flooding my inbox, gal pals started singing me the song on skype and it wasn’t long before I was being referred to as their friend that was “an international nasty girl.” Now remember, I had never actually seen the video, I was just a good friend playing along and giggling supportively, like friends do.
It was at a Paris cafe, with a few french coworkers that I finely found a few minutes to check out the clip. Now, I must note, do not watch any funny YouTube video about male genitals, female genitals, sex or anything controversial at a Parisian cafe with your coworkers. No, you won’t be shamed for be scrupulous. No, you wont be judged for indulging in tasteless content. No ,you won’t be typified as a classless American. What actually happen is you will spend a good 30 minutes explaining what a dong is.
Yes ,I had to awkwardly discuss what a dong is. What is the appropriate context it is to use such a word? I felt like I was in a sexual term spelling bee. Can you use it in a sentence? Roots of origin? Part of Speech? This was of course followed by coworkers working the word into any sentence they could. Well, repetition does build memory retention,,, and they weren’t going to forget about dong anytime soon. They also weren’t going to forget the context in which they learned that lovely beacon of modern American colloquialism.
After watching the video an explaining the context, I learned much too late that the joke did not translate. Instead, my entire French office legitimately begin to think I was an international nasty girl. Furthermore, they appreciated my quest for dong and they were more than willing to help. That last bit’s important to note. I didn’t anticipate my sex life would become the office cause de jour. “Lets find Glitter some Parisian dong!”- that’s not uncomfortable to hear. Being introduced and thrust into conversation with strange men- that’s what every girl wants. Being inquisitively asked repeatedly about the dong you’ve enjoyed recently and your techniques for obtaining the prize jewels- a totally normal topic of discussion. Of course, not realizing the joke was not being understood as such until way way waaaay too late into the discussion, the whole thing spiraled into me being lauded as a sexual vixen on the prowl constantly for man candy and good times. I do love man meat, but not enough to be cheekily shoving pushpins into every country I’ve conquered. Candidly, right now, that’d be a pretty unimpressive map.
To this day, my french coworkers think I am a sexual conquistador. Also, they love that dong song, and enjoy singing the chorus composed mostly of the word dong, out loud on the streets of Trocadero whenever I am in town. And that’s how I became an international nasty girl.
However on the outside looking in, my life looked amazing. Many people even joked that I didn’t work, and had somehow made travel my life. So when the ladies of SNL did a skit called “Dongs all over the world” about girls traveling the world, and crossing the countries off the map once they’d gotten it in- my friends chuckled to themselves and thought of me. Here’s the video if you haven’t seen it. Because, you really should. It’s catchy, sassy and Anna Kendrick (GIRL CRUSH ALERT) plays the ring leader .
Naturally given my line of work and constant travel schedule, when the video first aired, I wasn’t able to catch it on the boob tube. I didn’t have any idea that this little lady sex anthem gem even existed. Until of course, my friends got a hold of me. The video began flooding my inbox, gal pals started singing me the song on skype and it wasn’t long before I was being referred to as their friend that was “an international nasty girl.” Now remember, I had never actually seen the video, I was just a good friend playing along and giggling supportively, like friends do.
It was at a Paris cafe, with a few french coworkers that I finely found a few minutes to check out the clip. Now, I must note, do not watch any funny YouTube video about male genitals, female genitals, sex or anything controversial at a Parisian cafe with your coworkers. No, you won’t be shamed for be scrupulous. No, you wont be judged for indulging in tasteless content. No ,you won’t be typified as a classless American. What actually happen is you will spend a good 30 minutes explaining what a dong is.
Yes ,I had to awkwardly discuss what a dong is. What is the appropriate context it is to use such a word? I felt like I was in a sexual term spelling bee. Can you use it in a sentence? Roots of origin? Part of Speech? This was of course followed by coworkers working the word into any sentence they could. Well, repetition does build memory retention,,, and they weren’t going to forget about dong anytime soon. They also weren’t going to forget the context in which they learned that lovely beacon of modern American colloquialism.
After watching the video an explaining the context, I learned much too late that the joke did not translate. Instead, my entire French office legitimately begin to think I was an international nasty girl. Furthermore, they appreciated my quest for dong and they were more than willing to help. That last bit’s important to note. I didn’t anticipate my sex life would become the office cause de jour. “Lets find Glitter some Parisian dong!”- that’s not uncomfortable to hear. Being introduced and thrust into conversation with strange men- that’s what every girl wants. Being inquisitively asked repeatedly about the dong you’ve enjoyed recently and your techniques for obtaining the prize jewels- a totally normal topic of discussion. Of course, not realizing the joke was not being understood as such until way way waaaay too late into the discussion, the whole thing spiraled into me being lauded as a sexual vixen on the prowl constantly for man candy and good times. I do love man meat, but not enough to be cheekily shoving pushpins into every country I’ve conquered. Candidly, right now, that’d be a pretty unimpressive map.
To this day, my french coworkers think I am a sexual conquistador. Also, they love that dong song, and enjoy singing the chorus composed mostly of the word dong, out loud on the streets of Trocadero whenever I am in town. And that’s how I became an international nasty girl.
It was one of those first dates girls dream about. I met Sebastien ( named changed to protect the not so innocent) on OkCupid, or as I like to call it “the cupes” because it sounds more like the disease it is. From the instant we started chatting, I felt connected. He was witty and silly and very attentive. I was paranoid about what to wear, if I would be impressive enough, and whether real life would be as fulfilling as our digital communications had been. We were meeting at my favorite New York cupcake shop, if it all went down hill at least I’d be able to drown the let down with sugar rush made of frosting dreams. No matter the outcome, this date was certain to be sugary sweet. Or so I thought.
When I got to the cupcake shop, I was disappointed to see it was closed for renovations. A few minutes later, Sebastien arrived. He looked just like the photo online- this was a good thing. No let down of initial expectations. Until he opened his mouth.
“Heyyyyo, I’m Seb-asssthi-ion.” He had a lisp. And a Brooklyn accent. And a David Beckham-eqsue lady voice. And a nervous stutter. One of the four I’d probably would be able to deal, but with all felt it felt like I was meeting an IRL cartoon character. Took all my inner zen not to just laugh out loud. I mean what if it was a funny joke. I would make that joke. I have made that joke. But, it wasn’t a joke, it was reality.
Still a voice, a person does not make, maybe he was an awesome dude. I’d take cartoon voice over cheating tendencies or an unhealthy relationship with WOW any day. We settled at a cafe, and ordered a coffee and croissant, very classy if I do say myself. Well classy until Sebastian accidentally knocked his bag over and vials of pills poured out in waterfalls and began bouncing happily as they made their escape from their plastic prison. ” I wath tho nervouth too meet ya I took 4 differenth pillth for my nerveth,” he muttered as he scooped the capsules up in his hands. He went on to explain how he takes 20 pills a day-some prescribed, some homeopathic solutions- to manage his day to day tasks. He began to dive into his mental history as he crawled around looking for the last of his mind candy, but I awkwardly and forcefully changed the subject. (note: I believe managing mental illness is one of the most challenging struggles. I am not making light of this. Just noting it’s not the best first date material).
“Nice weather we’re having…” I redirected the convo once again as I asked for the check. The waiter gave me a knowing smile as she placed the bill on the table top. “$6.25, wow we were living fast and young tonight,” I joked. I reached for my wallet and placed 3 crisp dollars on the tray and slid it over to him. We were going dutch. I didn’t want to owe him anything.
” I thought ya wa gonna pay for mine.” He proclaimed. And thus it began, a 20 minute lecture on how I should pay for the tab because I was aware of his mental situation, that obviously it was an expensive life challenge and that I had a responsibility to support him. You know after one date. …after one date I am his financial back bone. I should note this is when I realized the importance of running, had I been a runner then I would have sprinted away.
But I wasn’t a runner yet. And after reluctantly paying his share, he wanted to walk me home. NOOOOO!!! I screamed, falling to my knees and weeping dramatically. I should note I did this in my mind, because in real life I agreed. Because I am a nice person, and that’s what nice people do.
As we walked along, we passed an American Apparel. I pointed it out, and asked “what’s you’re thoughts on them” hoping this would lead us into a somewhat boring, but safe conversation about how American Apparel treats their employees poorly, whether that’s wrong and etc. Instead the females newsie voiced, dead beat of a date turned to me and said, ” I bet you don’t like them…. (why?)… because you are too fat to wear their clothes.”
I went silent. I didn’t want to make a scene, I felt like he was on the edge mental health wise, and he had just gone out of his way to insult me. So I looked at my watch, acted shocked, and proclaimed I must get home immediately. After all, I had early meetings. I simply couldn’t walk home. I would needed to take a taxi. Right then. Not a second to spare. It was a race against time. Except there were no taxis, and he wasn’t going to leave my side until we found one. He wanted me to stay.
His brow furrowed. He seemed upset. Did he actually think this date had been good? What this a new reality show to see how much I would endure before going 100% lady crazy on him? As I tried to figure out what the hell was going on, he grabbed my hands. I should note this unwanted movement of affection was perfectly timed with the passing of a flock of drunk NYU college girls. As he tried to pull me in and I resisted, they cooed and screamed “OOOOOH look, they’re in love. It’s so cute. Kiss!”
The gaggle of girls began to systematically chant while clamoring closer; they were demanding our lips to touch. Sebastien feeling oddly empowered by the crowd grabbed my face. Despite all of my attempts to flee, duck, swerve, push, jump and swivel away, he planted a kiss on my cheek. Then he took my hand and raised it in the air as if he had won a boxing match. I wasn’t a champion belt winner. I was disgusted and confused and out 3 dollars.
Just as I about burst into tears, I saw a mythical unicorn of yellow checkered design. I hailed that cab, and began to recount the story to my driver. He was my night in canary shining armor. I told him about the pills, the bills, the insults, and the chills. How I needed to get home. how I needed to drink. How I needed to google strange things on the internet for at least an hour. And just as I finished my story, I felt my phone vibrate. I had received a text. It was from Sebastien.
You’re Majestic.
When I got to the cupcake shop, I was disappointed to see it was closed for renovations. A few minutes later, Sebastien arrived. He looked just like the photo online- this was a good thing. No let down of initial expectations. Until he opened his mouth.
“Heyyyyo, I’m Seb-asssthi-ion.” He had a lisp. And a Brooklyn accent. And a David Beckham-eqsue lady voice. And a nervous stutter. One of the four I’d probably would be able to deal, but with all felt it felt like I was meeting an IRL cartoon character. Took all my inner zen not to just laugh out loud. I mean what if it was a funny joke. I would make that joke. I have made that joke. But, it wasn’t a joke, it was reality.
Still a voice, a person does not make, maybe he was an awesome dude. I’d take cartoon voice over cheating tendencies or an unhealthy relationship with WOW any day. We settled at a cafe, and ordered a coffee and croissant, very classy if I do say myself. Well classy until Sebastian accidentally knocked his bag over and vials of pills poured out in waterfalls and began bouncing happily as they made their escape from their plastic prison. ” I wath tho nervouth too meet ya I took 4 differenth pillth for my nerveth,” he muttered as he scooped the capsules up in his hands. He went on to explain how he takes 20 pills a day-some prescribed, some homeopathic solutions- to manage his day to day tasks. He began to dive into his mental history as he crawled around looking for the last of his mind candy, but I awkwardly and forcefully changed the subject. (note: I believe managing mental illness is one of the most challenging struggles. I am not making light of this. Just noting it’s not the best first date material).
“Nice weather we’re having…” I redirected the convo once again as I asked for the check. The waiter gave me a knowing smile as she placed the bill on the table top. “$6.25, wow we were living fast and young tonight,” I joked. I reached for my wallet and placed 3 crisp dollars on the tray and slid it over to him. We were going dutch. I didn’t want to owe him anything.
” I thought ya wa gonna pay for mine.” He proclaimed. And thus it began, a 20 minute lecture on how I should pay for the tab because I was aware of his mental situation, that obviously it was an expensive life challenge and that I had a responsibility to support him. You know after one date. …after one date I am his financial back bone. I should note this is when I realized the importance of running, had I been a runner then I would have sprinted away.
But I wasn’t a runner yet. And after reluctantly paying his share, he wanted to walk me home. NOOOOO!!! I screamed, falling to my knees and weeping dramatically. I should note I did this in my mind, because in real life I agreed. Because I am a nice person, and that’s what nice people do.
As we walked along, we passed an American Apparel. I pointed it out, and asked “what’s you’re thoughts on them” hoping this would lead us into a somewhat boring, but safe conversation about how American Apparel treats their employees poorly, whether that’s wrong and etc. Instead the females newsie voiced, dead beat of a date turned to me and said, ” I bet you don’t like them…. (why?)… because you are too fat to wear their clothes.”
I went silent. I didn’t want to make a scene, I felt like he was on the edge mental health wise, and he had just gone out of his way to insult me. So I looked at my watch, acted shocked, and proclaimed I must get home immediately. After all, I had early meetings. I simply couldn’t walk home. I would needed to take a taxi. Right then. Not a second to spare. It was a race against time. Except there were no taxis, and he wasn’t going to leave my side until we found one. He wanted me to stay.
His brow furrowed. He seemed upset. Did he actually think this date had been good? What this a new reality show to see how much I would endure before going 100% lady crazy on him? As I tried to figure out what the hell was going on, he grabbed my hands. I should note this unwanted movement of affection was perfectly timed with the passing of a flock of drunk NYU college girls. As he tried to pull me in and I resisted, they cooed and screamed “OOOOOH look, they’re in love. It’s so cute. Kiss!”
The gaggle of girls began to systematically chant while clamoring closer; they were demanding our lips to touch. Sebastien feeling oddly empowered by the crowd grabbed my face. Despite all of my attempts to flee, duck, swerve, push, jump and swivel away, he planted a kiss on my cheek. Then he took my hand and raised it in the air as if he had won a boxing match. I wasn’t a champion belt winner. I was disgusted and confused and out 3 dollars.
Just as I about burst into tears, I saw a mythical unicorn of yellow checkered design. I hailed that cab, and began to recount the story to my driver. He was my night in canary shining armor. I told him about the pills, the bills, the insults, and the chills. How I needed to get home. how I needed to drink. How I needed to google strange things on the internet for at least an hour. And just as I finished my story, I felt my phone vibrate. I had received a text. It was from Sebastien.
You’re Majestic.
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