Tag: fitness

Nature’s Medicine

I saw a naturopath, and I have to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to go back again. I just didn’t like the way she made me feel. Like, don’t tell me i’m an alcoholic and have diabetes and too much copper in my blood. It’s rude.

Apart from these diagnoses, she proceeded to give me advice about not drinking so much, by diluting my wine with tap water. This woman looked like she takes an IV of homemade kombucha and gets nourishment from correctly guessing the color of your chakra.

She then asked me about my relationship with my parents, and asked me if I ever thought about ending my own life. The answer at that moment, was a big fat YES.

She also gave me a reflex test. Which I guess is pretty standard, but she hit me with the mallet and I jump back in pain, and look at her shocked. She smiles, you guys, the smile of someone who spends their free time floating around as an orb of light in another dimension, and she says, “I know, you probably weren’t expecting that.”

No, bitch. I know how reflexes work. I frankly would be more shocked if my leg didn’t have a reaction. That would most likely be something we would need to address. The reason I am so up in arms right now is because I JUST told you 3 minutes ago that I had surgery on that knee because it was broken into four different pieces. I would appreciate it if you didn’t HIT IT WITH A FUCKING MALLET.

So the reason I go in is to get a food allergy test, to confirm my suspicion that I’m allergic to gluten. And I know, I know, gluten is this huge blown up thing and half the people that say they’re allergic to gluten are really just ex-south beach dieters, but my situation is a little different.

I have a bite of toast and then immediately shit my pants. Sometimes even looking a bowl of cereal will set me off. I once had a boyfriend cut me out of a pair of shorts because I couldn’t get them off fast enough…..we are no longer seeing each other.

So I thought…maybe I should get that checked out.

After proving that I am in fact, not a zombie, and my legs do move after being hit with a hammer, I proceed to get my blood drawn by the designated phlebotomist.

Now, I’m not squeamish about needles. I in fact find it interesting that someone’s entire job in the medical profession is to take the life blood of another human being and put it into tubes. It seems counter-intuitive, really.

But you guys, this monster, took 6 vials of my blood. 6!

I see my entire life replay in these moments. I see me as a baby, me getting ready for prom, getting my college degree, and I start to close my eyes and accept that death is near, and it is inevitable.

But then I see this large ball of light that is coming towards me, but it’s just my doctor in her natural form. She slaps me on my broken leg and hands me a prescription for 16 different supplements she recommends for my copper blood.

I try to shake off an hour’s worth of traumatic experience after traumatic experience so I can walk out of there without these dementors knowing I lost my cool.
I get the results back the next week, and it turns out I’m allergic to corn and cinnamon.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover

Tags advice, allergies, checkup, comedy, doctor, fitness, health, life, pnw, visit

advice aftercollegelife comedy dogs eating fitness friendship hobbies lifestyle pacific northwest pdx self help Uncategorized

B.F.F.s

Post author By knwolf
Post date June 2, 2016
No Comments on B.F.F.s

I have the most lovely community of men and women as friends. It’s actually insane how many bad ass people are in my life. Sometimes I think about it too much and I start crying my lil eyes out in awe of the sheer luck & fortune I have to know these people. Shit.

But it’s easy to be a hater, man, I get it. It’s so easy to take one look at Insta and be like “oh man, look at this bitch, she has a picture of a smoothie, and then her next three photos are of the beach, a workout selfie, and her pure-bred dog. Fuckkkkk her.” I don’t remember where I found this quote, but I said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” What if instead of feeling miserable about someone’s health journey, because you’re five breadsticks and a bottle of wine down, you celebrate that someone out there is living the life they want. (If you want to hear more about my opinions on this, check out my previous blog “All the Small Things.”)

It’s a crazy concept, but think about it this way: I now have a few good friends that I was super envious of because they were wicked pretty, super motivated and seemed to be kicking the world right in the crotch. So I didn’t talk to them, I just stalked them on Facebook and followed their posts and was like, “They are so cool. I wish I could be cool….and fuck they just went to Italy. The closest I’ll get to Italy is this bowl of god damn frozen raviolis.”

But if you stop doing that comparison shit, and realize that everyone is a real person with struggles and goals, you can open yourself up to the same opportunities just by reaching out and saying, “Hey, I like Harry Potter, you like Harry Potter, let’s hang out and kill at bottle of merlot.” What’s the worst that can happen? I also literally made a friend with that tag line, so feel free to steal it.

How To Make Friends (Quarter-Life Crisis Edition):

1) Find Common Ground.

“You like trashy tv shows? Oh shit, did you see the last episode of Dance Moms?! So. Much. Drama.”
“Hey, do you hate this job, because I sure do! What parts about it do you hate the most? Would you like to discuss this over some alcohol?”
“Hey there, I see that you have a dog. I loveeeeeee dogs. What is your dogs name? How old is he? Where did you get him? Did you get him when he was a puppy? Does he get along well with other dogs? Can I pet him? Oh shit, I’m already petting him. I got too excited I forgot to ask permission. He seems very friendly.”

2) No One Hates Being Complimented.

Imagine this, your new coworker shows up wearing an outfit that looks like it is straight out of an Anthopologie window display. You say, “I love that jumper! Where did you get it?” She looks you right in the eye, flips you the bird, and walks back to her desk in silence.
If that actually happens you should try even harder to be friends with this person, because they just won the Hard-as-Fuck Award, and it’s always good to have a sassy lil’ raincloud in your wolf pack to mix things up a bit. Take April Ludgate for example.

3) Don’t be an Asshole.

Trust me on this one. This means don’t talk shit about other people just to get on someone’s good side. Take it from someone who worked in the salon industry for 5 years. That shit will always come back to bite you in the ass.
Besides being able to open your own juice box now, things haven’t changed much since elementary school. Someone who hates someone today, might end up having a change of heart and loving them tomorrow, and THEY WILL tell them all the shit you said about them.
Treat people with common courtesy. Try and give notice if you need to cancel plans. If you aren’t feeling up to a night on the town, explain why and try to set something up for another time. Communicating with people = good. Ignoring texts and blowing people off = Asshole with a capital H.

As my beautiful improv coach fairy once said, “You have to be vulnerable in order to allow yourself to have authentic relationships. It’s one of the scariest and easiest things to do, but it’s so important.”

So, my magestic sea lions, go out into the wide ocean of friendship and swim around. Don’t let comparison be the thief of your joy. Be open to new experiences. And above all, love yourself and DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover

aftercollegelife comedy lifestyle pacific northwest pdx

Blues

Post author By knwolf
Post date April 19, 2016
No Comments on Blues

lana-del-rey-summertime-sadness-monseiur-adi-remix-official

I’m starting to understand what Lana Ray was all up our asses about that Summer Time Sadness. I’ve been a bit of a funk lately and I’m starting to think maybe there’s something deeper going on here than being depressed about my naked body splayed out in front of the air conditioner thinking, “Dear god it’s bikini season and I’M NOT READY.”

Perhaps Summer is a time to clean house (mentally and physically) and it can be kind of sad to realize you hibernated the whole winter and didn’t really save any money, or get any thinner or get a boyfriend, so your parents can stop assuming your gay with your roommate/s.

The sunshine is here and it’s like a slap in the face that you’re alive and things are amazing, but what the hell have you been doing for half the year? What are you going to do about it? How the fuck are we possibly going to get a decent ass in time for river float season, and oh my god it’s almost my birthday again and I’m getting so olddddddd.

But now. really now, for reals-reals we are doing it. We are going to be a better person from now on and create allowances, and learn self discipline and not be such an emotional basket-case.

I’m really bad at not letting myself have what I want. If I want to go camping, I will get in the car and go and spend all my money on $7 IPA’s and grass-fed hot dogs and the best condiments money can buy. Chipotle flavored mayonnaise? You would be a stupid idiot to think you don’t need that in the wilderness. I thought about wanting a hammock for 5 minutes yesterday before ordering one online. I am essentially the best boyfriend to myself ever, (Which is why I don’t need one okay Aunt Cheryl?! God. Lay off!)

Summer is an especially hard time for my impulses. Margaritas at 6 p.m. on a Monday? Um, yes. I’ll take 4 please.

Formulating positive solutions based on the present and what I can do right now is something I strive for. It’s all about that balance between letting myself do whatever I want, and being so hard on myself that I’m incapable of feeling happiness. Making it to the gym and also fitting in some homemade margs at the end of the week. Skipping a couple nights out to afford my improv classes. etc. etc.

It’s not something that comes to me easy. I can be having the best time in the world with my best friends and instead of enjoying it, and being in the moment. I’m thinking about how sad it will be when we get older and one of us dies. Really, I think about my friends and family dying all the time. Sorry guys.

Being morbid comes easier to me sometimes than being a super-chill girl who like, totally loves life, and bright colors, and disc golf and shit. And being hard on myself is way easier than being proud of myself. I could be on the beach with a drink in my hand and not be able to get my mind off when I’m ever going to be able to have the money or the means to do something that fun ever again.

But this behavior isn’t doing anyone any good. It’s time to start feeling decent about enjoying today. Right now.

Sometimes it’s hard to take a breath and tell myself that I’m only 25 and everything is really going to be okay. And this moment is okay. And this time in my life is okay. And the fact that I forgot to put on deodorant is maybe okay, as long as I don’t get too close to anyone on the MAX.

Deep breaths, baby steps, cheesy positive mantras, a decent tan, and blended alcoholic beverages with tiny umbrellas. This is my Summer Time M.O. That and getting a killer set of abs. Also I apologize for not having humor be the forefront of this post, but not all weekday hangovers are going to be a walk in the park. Amiright ladies?!

Plus, if anyone else is feeling a little blue, message me, call new, comment on my post. I’m totally hear to commiserate with you and hear you out. Us humans haves to support each other in this bat-shit world where it is 90 degrees in April, so I’m calling it Summer.

Xoxo,

TWH

Tags adayinthelife, camping, comedy, diet, dietfails, fitness, health, humor, improv, lifegoals, lifelessons, margaritas, mental, mildfulness, singlelife, summer

comedy fitness lifestyle pacific northwest pdx

A Day at the Gym

Reasons why the gym is my personal 7th layer of hell:

1) Gym Short Boners.

tiny man shorts

I don’t really feel like this needs more in-depth reasoning, but I’ll give you an example. The 24 Hour Fitness on Hollywood has windows that look into the swim area. This is one of the reasons I choose not to utilize the swim area. Another reason is that this one guy insists on wearing flesh color shorts and then struts around in front of the window, like he’s proud of it. I know exactly what this guy’s junk looks like. EXACTLY. And, I haven’t even entered the building yet. Then naturally, you have your average, run-of-the-mill gym short boners and visible basketball-short dick outlines.
2) Aggressive man-roids

I hate when guys at the gym make eye contract with you like, as they are doing push-ups or some shit. Like, hey girl do you think this is hot? and I’m like, well sort of in a really primal way, like I feel like you could carry me out of a burning building, but at the same time I’m a little turned off by your aggression.

3) Classes I don’t understand

What is Grit? What the hell is Body attack? It sounds like someone is going to come in and hit me with giant palm tree leaves and then force me to do gravel pushups and then publicly ridicule me as my hands get more and more hamburger-y from the pushups. I want abs, but I also don’t want to sweat blood and dry heave all over the damn place. Plus I have shin splints so, I’m going to have to sit this one out.

4) Classes I do understand

Image result for zumba

I’m pretty convinced Zumba is just a bunch of moms (Not new moms, like I-have-three-kids-in high school and-don’t-know-why-I-get-out-of-bed-everyday moms) who wanted an upgrade from reading their People magazine on the treadmill at speed 3 for a half hour. Bopping around in neon clothes was dope during the In Living Color days, but now it just seems, well, dumpier and a little sad.

5) Packed yoga classes filled with old creaky men (yes I meant creaky not creepy. No typo here. I can literally hear their bones rubbing against their other bones.)

Sometimes I try this yoga class at the gym and then always end up walking out half way because I’m either frustrated that I don’t have enough black magic stored up to move my spine closer to my hips like I am instructed to do, or I peace out half way through because I’m BORED. I’m sick of doing cat, cow, cat, cow then downward dog. Unless someone’s penis can be inside me during said animal style poses, it’s really a waste of my time.

The only time I get through a whole hour of class is by staying in child’s pose, because you know yoga is all about calm music and dim lights and nothing being mandatory, so it’s the perfect place to take a nap. Everything in yoga is “up to your body”. Well my body wants to drink alcohol or sleep about 95% of the time, so I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here.

6) Community Stretch Mats

Gym-People have very little respect for others personal space. No I don’t want you to stretch my hamstring. Yes, I was planning on using this 2 ft of space to do, I don’t know, a crunch. Please stop staring at me.

I hope you enjoyed my reasons for why I skipped the gym to write this blog, eat an entire wheel of brie, and use my It Starts With Food, Discover the Whole 30 book as a mimosa coaster. See you assholes at CoreCx on Sunday.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover

Tags comedy, fitness, gymlife, pdx, portlandlife, postcollegeculture

comedy eating fitness food

The Food Pyramid

I touched on my feelings with food briefly during my post on getting older and dying, but I feel like I have a little more to say in regards to eating, food, and my love/hate relationship with it.

Let’s call this what it really is. A cry for help:

Why the food pyramid isn’t working for me:

1. I have the palette of a 90’s pre-teen. My favorite foods include: Bologna (BAH-LOH-KNEE) sandwiches with yellow mustard, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and ham and cheese Hot Pockets. I basically had to put myself through a 12 step program just to quit Pizza Lunchables, which I am proud to admit I am one year clean from.

2. I think beets taste like dirt and kale tastes like butt. I’m not saying this to be be mean, I really feel this way, and am sometimes scared to admit it. Everyone in Portland lovvvveeees beets and kale. I’m hoping something slightly more appealing like iceberg lettuce with ranch or a modest potato will become the new “superfood” but with my luck it will probably be turnips or some other avant-garde horse shit.

3. I actually follow the rule of no carbs after 7 p.m., but that is because most weeknights I have wine for dinner.

4. The entire staff at Bowery bagels knows me by first name and they know that I always get a salt bagel with bacon cream cheese. I can’t go two work days in a row without one. It’s Wednesday and I already miss them so much.

5. The Dominos guy can tell when my roommate has gotten a haircut….That’s how often we see him.

5. I don’t understand what Paleo is.

6. I’m not a vegetarian, I’m just too scared to cook meat. Well, any meat that isn’t an easy meat.

Easy Meat. DEF: Chicken is a hard meat to cook. Chicken sausage however, is an easy meat because you just cut it into circles and the rest is up to god (or the deity of your choice.)

I also can’t really cook non-meats. I can never tell when Soyrizo is done, because it’s already cooked but it specifies you have to cook it to a certain degree to eat it. Asking me to take the temperature of a food before putting it in my mouth is like asking me to floss my teeth before going to the dentist. I don’t see the point and I’m never going to do it.

7. If It only cost $1.99, in my mind it’s completely safe and you should totally eat it. I survived an entire summer eating nothing but bowtie noodles with frozen peas and cans of french-cut green beans. If you can feed yourself for two days on less than $5, you may be getting progressively fatter and slower, but you’re winning at something.

I need some serious guidance or hypnosis to get me away from processed cheese singles and toaster pastries, but if loving cheesy stuffed breadsticks, mayonnaise and tiny microwavable pizzas is wrong, do I really want to be right?