Things I Wish I’d Hear in the “Healthy Living” Sphere

It’s essential that everyone living, healthily or otherwise, doesn’t take themselves too seriously. And this post is about just that.

This is super serial, y'all.

This is super serial, y’all.

I came to this gym to flirt with muscly dudes and drink my Jamba Juice… and I’m all outta Jamba Juice.

 

Lemme tell you a secret about this smoothie bowl… it may LOOK like a disgusting swamp monster’s damp lair…. but it also tastes terrible.

Just get pancakes.

Just get pancakes.

There is a WRONG and a RIGHT way to do Zumba. If you can’t figure out the choreography, just leave now. Don’t waste my time.

 

Here’s a fun trick with lifting weights: form doesn’t matter half as much as how well your Wunder Unders fit. Just go for quick jerky motions to get it over with, try to use as much of your back as possible. What season are those crops, seriously?

 

When do you think they’ll start doing ‘Cold Yoga’? I’m not really into sweating.

 

I can’t f*cking stand protein. Real talk: I want nothing to do with it.

 

I think I’m just going to wear sweats to Pure Barre today. Do you think anyone will notice?

Appropriate?

Appropriate?

I know that endorphins are supposed to be released when you run but I think all that comes out of my brain is acetylcholine…

 

I kinda like yoga pants that are sheer. When I’m in down dog, they are a seamless transition from the studio to the street corner.

 

I’m pretty sure that the 25 minutes you spent on the elliptical didn’t ‘earn you that froyo’, Jordan. That thing cost you $10.59. What’s that, like… 2 pounds of froyo? Jesus Christ. Is that an entire slice of cheesecake in there?

Walked up the stairs instead of taking the elevator... #earnedit

Walked up the stairs instead of taking the elevator… #earnedit

Got any good ones? (This was TOO fun to write.)

Grad School vs. Kindergarten

And, just like that, I’m in grad school. I’m making moves, I’m taking Philly and UPenn by storm, and my higher education is top priority.  Yesterday was my very first day of classes and, though I was PAINFULLY excited, I was also silly-nervous. Was the teacher gonna be hard? Would there be mean girls  a la Elle Woods’ first day in law school? Would anyone sit next to me? What was the difference between nominal and interval-ratio, again?

Luckily, my intro to Biostats class was the ideal first class to have. My professor was friendly, adorable, and “loved” that I was named Jordan (boy’s name for a girl! HOW NOVEL!!)  As I listened to the lecture (for which I was incredibly prepared for, as I’d been “that girl” who did all the reading before the first day), I found my mind drifting a bit. Primarily to the fact that, despite almost all the students being 25+ (with a few “young’ns” clocking in at 21-22), this wasn’t so different from another first day I had, years and years ago.  Maybe like… 20 years ago.  Like Kindergarten.

And, though I’m not the first person to make this comparison, my personal experience revealed both major similarities, and stark differences.

Like Kindergarten, I pored over my first day of class outfit. And, also like Kindergarten, I chose a pink dress.

LET’S LEARN!

Like Kindergarten, I took the bus to school (at least, like most Kindergarteners, I was spoiled and got driven).

Unlike Kindergarten, it looked like this:

Where’s my yellow schoolbus?

Like Kindergarten, I had a nutritious lunch to fuel my big day.

Unlike Kindergarten, I cooked it in an oven, and served it with avocado and salsa. I don’t think I even knew what an avocado WAS back in the day.

Trader Joe’s Pizza al Polla Asado – $1.99 at TJ’s, SO tasty!

Like Kindergarten, we all introduced ourselves and said what animal we wish we could be.  (Mine was a Jellyfish. No surprise there.)

Unlike Kindergarten, we followed up with what school/program we were from… This was different unless you had PhD candidates for Bioengineering in your Kindergarten classes. I’m 98% sure we did not (though who knows about that one geeky kid with the swanky Lunchables container he designed himself…)

Like Kindergarten, we had snack time in the middle of class.

Unlike Kindergarten, snack time consisted of Rainier cherries, goat cheese, manchego, cracked pepper water crackers, and Pirouettes.

Thanks, Professor!!

Like Kindergarten, we were all eager to learn and meet each other.

Unlike Kindergarten, the plans we made for the future were not for playdates and sandbox trysts, but for happy hours and Restaurant Week.

And, as I got home after class and sat down to a dinner of crock-pot pulled pork and a bit of reading for my next class, I realized that, even though the (used) textbook I’m reading is titled Health Behavior and Health Education and doesn’t have ANY pictures, just like Kindergarten, it’s filled with illegible handwriting that might as well have come from a 5-year old.

Solid chicken scratch, bro.

Ah, it’s good to know some things will never change.

What was your favorite thing about the first day(s) of school?

 

The Scariest Flight of My Entire Life and a Trader Joe’s Treat

Oh, neat. It’s Monday.

I know, that sounds like the least enthused beginning of a post ever, right?

Well, I’ll be honest, Mondays after traveling to/from home in Pennyslvania are always a little rough. For financial reasons as well as a love of spending Sunday nights watching CSI with my little brother and sister, I like to return to the Raleigh-Durham airport on Monday mornings. Unfortunately, that tends to lead to a 5 am (or earlier) Monday wake-up call.

In case you missed it, you should check out my Six Pack Sunday: The Science of Beer  edition. It’s pretty much one of the coolest beer events I’ve ever experienced in my life.

Luckily, I had a tasty surprise just waiting in the freezer for a Monday where “cooking” was the last thing on my lunch-mind.

A little spice is nice!

4 minutes in the microwave, and you have: Trader Joe’s Green Curry Infused Rice!!

The ingredient list is beautiful: Jasmine rice, green bell pepper, carrots, coconut milk, basil leaves, green curry past, light soy sauce, sugar, sunflower oil, holland chili pepper, and key lime leaves. Not too shabby, right?

While the taste was perfect, I thought it was missing something….

Vegetable Fiesta!

I was craving a few more veggies and had some leftovers in the fridge to add to the mix. Broccoli, mushrooms, red pepper, more carrots, and baby corn!! Add this to the warm, spicy slow burn of a quality curry, and you have yourself a colorful lunch to fuel me through the day!

Chances are, though, if you made it this far, you’re not just interested in my Trader Joe’s mouth-party.  You wanna hear the juice.

This Friday, on my way to Philadelphia, I experienced the absolute scariest flight of my entire life. That’s really saying something, too, considering I fly anywhere from 1-2x a month and have been for almost 3 years now (before then, I flew less frequently, but still more than your average bear. Or person.)

I flew Southwest, as I always do, because it’s fast, it’s cheap, and their seating system rewards aggression.  It’s kill or be killed sit or be sat on, out there, and I was a lucky duck who got a primo windo seat. I had a great book on hand, a handsome boyfriend I was flying to, and a few of these bad boys to whet my whistle…

Drink tickets, anyone? (click for source)

Though there was a bit of rain in the forecast, both in Philly and RDU, the drizzles weren’t getting me down.

Then, as luck would have it, the pilot announced over the intercom system that, due to weather and possible turbulence, there’d be no drink service. AND NO PEANUTS!

That’s a bummer, but really, not the end of the world.  I was peeved (and thirsty), but just trying to get to the PHL.

I sat to read my (incredibly emotional and intense) book and was approximately halfway through the (very smooth) flight when the silence was broken.  It was broken by screaming:

“HELP!! IS THERE A DOCTOR ON THE PLANE?! IS ANYONE A DOCTOR?! OH GOD, IS THERE A DOCTOR?!”

A huge lump surged in my throat as I, along with every other passenger, turned to see a flight attendant running through the aisle, waving her hands.

Having watched thousands of episodes of TV shows where that inevitably means one of a few select tragedies, I was petrified.

Either:

a) we had all just contracted meningitis, a la that very special episode of House

b) there was a terrorist on board, and maybe the president, a la Air Force One

c) there was…. something on the wing. A la Twilight Zone

NBD, just an Airplane Gremlin that wants to eat my heart.

Either way, in my mind, my plane was doomed.

As I watched a white haired fellow (who I’m PRAYING was a doctor) leap out of his seat, seemingly shouting FINALLY! MY DAY HAS COME! with his body language, I prayed to all things holy (and some things unholy, like that airplane gremlin) that my life wouldn’t end on this plane (or before I finished ROOM.)

Then, as suddenly as the screaming began, the silence returned. My fellow passengers and I craned our necks back, hoping for some indication that a life hadn’t ended in the exit row, and that the rest of us weren’t infected. We looked to the flight attendants, who bustled about in an orderly fashion, as if nothing was amiss, plastic smiles glued to their face.

What the FORK AND KNIFE had just happened?

Well, when that grinning attendant strolled over so nonchalantly to collect our trash (though, since none of us had gotten beverages or snacks, there wasn’t much trash to be collected) I gestured for her to come and collect my apple core (a self-brought snack, thank goodness!!

“Excuse me, ma’am, would you mind telling us what all the commotion was about? What happened back there?”

“Oh, don’t you worry sweetheart! It was nothing! Just some fellow who woke up and wasn’t feeling too well, he’s doing fine now.”

…………………………………………….wait. What?

Color me confused

So you mean to tell me that, when someone doesn’t feel too well after groggily waking up on a plane, you race through the aisles screaming bloody murder for a doctor?! Was that in the training somewhere?!

I certainly hope not.

Needless to say, the rest of my day was spent jumping at every loud sound made and clutching my chest at the hint of turbulence.  The train ride, thankfully was a little less adventurous, and, when I finally reached the beau, I hugged him like a spider monkey clinging to a branch mid-tropical storm (factual basis of that statement is up for debate. I don’t know if spider monkeys even live in tropical areas. Just go with it.)

I haven’t started coughing up organs or bleeding from my eyes yet  so I’m pretty sure I’m okay, but just keep an eye on me y’all. If you don’t see somewhat regular tweets and posts, chances are, I’m living out the plot of Contagion.

Either that, or the airplane gremlin got me.

What'd you say your address was, again, Jordan?