Crossing the Floor

Friday, April 28, 2006 by Michelle

In Canada, "crossing the floor" has become a political hot button, especially here in Vancouver (ref: David Emerson, the swine). In my own life "crossing the floor" has become a measure of fitness. "Huh?" You ask. For a long time now I've shopped at Cotton Ginny because they seem to understand that some women do indeed have thighs and butts that have a bit of flesh on them. Their stores have "regular size" and "plus size" sides. I remember having to go from one side of the store to the other as my weight increased (I crossed the floor); now I've started shopping back on the "regular size" side again (I crossed back). I was in between for a while, which is a pain in the ass let me tell you, but now I'm firmly in the regular size part of the store. It's pretty heady stuff that. I'm now nearly two dress sizes smaller than I was ten months ago. A couple of weeks ago, I bought some new clothes and it feels great (I like shopping for clothes as much as I enjoy watching paint dry, so it's unusual for me to feel great about shopping). I'm actually looking forward to these new clothes being too big for me by the end of the summer. Oh happy day!

Savage Chickens

Friday, April 21, 2006 by Michelle


My husband's co-worker, Doug Savage, writes "Chicken Cartoons on Sticky Notes" called Savage Chickens. Check it out at www.savagechickens.com. I think some of them are pretty damn funny, especially the one here. He's got a couple of funny recent ones (a) about pole dancing and (b) relieving the tough pain of crucifixion (in honour of Good Friday). Scroll around his archives and check them out. Can you tell he works in the corporate world?

Beating 15-Minutes of Cardio Terror

Sunday, April 16, 2006 by Michelle

As many of you know, I’ve been working out with a trainer, Warren, since mid-June 2005 and it has been going well. I’m getting fit and feeling motivated to exercise on my own (e.g. jogging Sundays, walking four km home from work 3-4 times per week).

During my weekly session with Warren, I start with 15 minutes of heart pounding fear-inducing cardio on the treadmill; he has control of the speed, so there’s no slouching. I started this part of my workout around October last year and hadn’t been able to hit the 15-minute mark without jumping off at least twice to wheeze for a bit. I’ve been trying very hard to not stop, but to no avail; I usually jumped before 12-minutes. On Friday, I had a comfortable pace and just kept going. And going. And going. And I did it!! Yes, I did the full 15 minutes without stopping and let me tell you I was ecstatic. Now, of course, I have to keep doing it and Warren is sure to increase the speed, but I know I can do it now and that’s almost overwhelming.

At the end of my last workout, I confessed to him that my walk home is becoming almost too easy. He said I must be ready to start adding some jogging in then. I mentioned that would mean bringing exercise clothes to work and stuff, and he said, “you’re becoming one of us!” Although I laughed and said he was hilarious, I later thought a lot about that. Me, becoming someone who exercises? Someone who takes their exercise gear to work and works out after work. Me? Really? I never thought that would be something I could say was “just like me.” That was pretty overwhelming too, after a lifetime of fat.

Having a Facial

Saturday, April 1, 2006 by Michelle

I finally decided, on the event of my 39th birthday yesterday, that a facial was in order. Although I'm a bit squeamish about the thought of someone I don't know touching my face, I thought, "millions of women can't be wrong." So I set up an appointment to go to Escents Spa on Commercial Drive. Let me tell you, do I ever understand what all the fuss is about now; it was amazing! If I would have been any more relaxed and mellow, I'd have turned into a puddle! In fact, I commented that if doctors took lessons from them and dimmed the lights, put on some smooth jazz and diffused a bit of Aromatherapy when women went in for their pap tests, we'd all go like we're supposed to only we'd enjoy it in spite of the "duck lips" (Vagina Monologues term for spectulum).