A Supportive Someone

Having a supportive someone is essential in attempts at behavior change; the inevitable failures (and the occasional successes, for all of you optimists) are better when told to loved ones. Healthy eating and physical activity is no exception. Since I'm an avid supporter of Just Desserts (which really should be its own movement...a social force validating the sweet tooth of millions), I enjoy the company of like-minded foodies (besides, if you truly don't want the six-layer chocolate cake a la mode, there's something wrong with you).

My boyfriend is kindly supportive of my sweet tooth, and of this ill-fated project. His enthusiasm encouraged my first week of exercise, which (need I remind you) was almost on par. Since then, my healthy eating goals have met greater success than my exercise goals, but my beau's loving words and this blog keep my interest in these health goals.

I want to post a conversation that fully illustrates his support, but I'll do that soon.

Useful (and Useless) Websites

Spring Break really uppercuts the dynamic duo of healthy eating and exercise, doesn't it? It also disrupts the flow of Socratic ideas that emerge from these weekly blog entries, and lands my ass in more schoolwork than I care to do. So alas, tonight's post will be brief.

There are many websites that provide useful information and resources for individuals who eat healthy and exercise. Personally, I prefer general health information, which I find through Wikipedia; I will often Wiki various diseases, foods, and exercises, and soon become interested in their cultural origins rather than derive any practical use.

I also found that the U.S. government's nutrition website is overwhelmingly boring, possibly as a result of text-heaviness. Information is great, but so is entertainment value. www.nutrition.gov

Unfortunately, my knowledge of more healthy eating and exercise websites is minimal. I, do, however, want to say that I recently found the sweetest article about the role of cupcakes in today's society (I know, I know). Cupcakes make me smile, but the fact that this was a CNN headline makes me worry about the future of news.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/wayoflife/03/23/cupcake.craze/index.html?hpt=Sbin

Or to Take Arms Against a Sea of Troubles

While I delight in mockeries of my feeble attempts at athleticism, I do not condone mediocrity by any means. For those of you who bristle at my seemingly blatant disregard for effort, today's update might please you.

Despite a minimal adherence to my proposed plan of exercise, I must be doing something right. I've lost 6.5 pounds since January (what?! I'm dropping numbers now?) and good riddance, too. What's exciting, of course, is that my dresses glide more smoothly past my hips and settle more confidently on my shoulders. But you know that my primary objective is sound health...

Since I only occasionally wave my wand to achieve these instantaneous results, I believe the changes have come as a result of mindful eating. I may not attempt to run three miles (fear of failure, you see), but I'll forgo the McFlurry to compensate.

Sameer, you would be proud.

Tiramisu, Blackberry Wine, and a Guest Blog

I imagine you're expecting details of my latest submission to Epicurean urges. While my weekend indulgences of tiramisu and blackberry wine certainly qualify,
I'll instead defer to a brief discussion of my failed forays into the realm of "physical activity." The truest sense of the phrase is now so hopelessly obsolete from my daily life that it merits quotations.

The greatest point of conversation among my classmates this past week was our memorable experience at Stroller Strides. While I found myself barely able to breathe after five minutes of running up and down the hills of Garfield Park, my classmates, professor, and instructor were much more admirable. The class has given me a new appreciation for moms, especially those with small children, and for readily accessible benches.

I often discuss my blog with friends, and was recently inspired by the thought of guest bloggers and their opinions on healthy eating, physical activity, and my "rampant gluttony." Below, please find the first of these guest blogs, written by my dear cross-country friend, Aaron Fernandes.

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I was recently asked to "guest blog," presumably to provide a change of pace from Aparna’s rampant gluttony and occasional forays into restraint. Though our heroine started out with lofty goals, 7 short days later her titles took a fateful turn for the worse, faulting the goose, the henny and the ‘tron. Though I’ve spent more weekends than I’d like to admit with the three wise men (Johnnie, Jack, and Jim - and their Spanish cousin Jose isn’t one to turn down a party), I actually think they are my motivation to work out when possible. People always seem to forget that work hard comes before play hard. I try to use the impending caloric downpour that aptly describes many weekends as motivation to kick out one more mile, set, or interval. As an added bonus I feel far less guilty (as a practicing Catholic, I have long been indoctrinated into the world of guilt, and it is hard to underestimate its power).

I am by no means in great shape; let's just say I lapped the freshman fifteen once or twice. And by lapped I do mean sitting on my ass eating Chipotle (ha! you thought I would actually run). To be fair, some of this was intentional; I don’t think I’m revealing the Colonel’s secret recipe when I say girls don’t love lanky chemical engineers. But since then I have actually developed healthier motivations for fitness. I wanted to become more athletic to stay competitive for pickup basketball games, though I pride myself more on my trash talking than my shooting.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm a fat kid at heart. It physically pains me to pass on a triple cheeseburger, buttery mashed potatoes, or a bottomless mimosa brunch. The unfortunate part of fitness is the payoff timeline. Though kicking it with General Tso is immediately satisfying, the joys of fitness are much less satisfying in any short term. Even over a longer period, only consistent workouts yield meaningful results. Glass half full - one cheat day (or weekend) of excursions into comfort foods is actually not the kiss of death if - and this is a big if - you regularly exercise. Here's looking at you, kid.

Aaron Fernandes currently lives in New York City and spends his days watching the Winter Olympics. He will be leaving the United States shortly for a trip around the world, and will be taking many photos to contribute to this blog (he just doesn't know it yet). He will be attending law school this fall, and for the record, loves dessert too.

Photo credit goes to everyone's friendly neighborhood Wikipedia.

Never Mind What Haters Say

My friends now affectionately call this "the food blog." My roommate calls it "the blog about how I don't exercise." My boyfriend says I "just like eating." I beg to differ.

Contrary to what you might expect, I'm actually sore. Yes, sore from physical activity, and no, not from...the repeated action of bringing a spoon of chocolate souffle to my mouth.

On Saturday, I attended the first wedding I had ever been to. I'm sore from battling a vast buffet, I'll admit; however, I'm more sore from dancing to Lady Gaga with drunken bridesmaids. I was wooed by multiple glasses of champagne, moist cake and its fluffy frosting, and overplayed hip-hop tunes (as you may have already guessed, seeing as I got down to "Just Dance"). It was a lovely afternoon and evening; it even allowed me 2 hours of unintentional exercise, in the form of dancing in heels.

An event that makes me move my ass, all while offering endless food and drink? Now, that's just generous. You can invite me to your wedding (or your sibling's, or your cousin's, or your friend's) anytime.

(Fleeting) Motivations for Change

Fear not, loyal readers; this blog isn't merely an exercise in failure. Although my guilt-ridden photos from last week suggest otherwise, I do occasionally possess glimpses of determination. They arise at opportune moments, like when I strive to finish a particularly dense journal article, or when I dive into my couch to see the Real Housewives of Orange County return from a commercial break (I don't have TiVo).

Determination stems from motivation, and in the case of Real Housewives, my motivation is to not miss a minute of Lynne's vapid contemplation or Tamra's bitch-please commentary. My motivation to get off my ass, however, is more fleeting.

As I've previously described, my motivation for past weight loss has been driven by a desire to....well, look damn good. As a 16 year-old with chunky thighs and a matching love for Arby's chicken fingers, I found myself at odds with my nearly invisible peers. Unhappy perceptions of my teenage body might be biased, I'll admit; they're likely overshadowed by more painful memories of unflattering jeans in a Kohl's fitting room, and sinking feelings of "I'm fat." Perhaps this is how I came to hate shopping.

Fitting room debacles and tears aside, I was motivated to change, albeit for the wrong reasons. Sound health was never my priority in weight loss (although I hope it one day will be); instead, I was plagued by adolescent issues of body image. Today, motivation comes from passing inspiration, like "I should be heart healthy!", "I should improve my strength!", and "I should document these efforts in a witty blog!"

But, as the old adage goes, you've got to start somewhere.

Most People Have a Cheat Day; I Have a Cheat Weekend

After contemplating barriers to behavior change, I harnessed last week's inspiration and made strides towards healthy eating and physical activity. Rather than berate myself on the days I didn't exercise, I made small changes like taking the stairs and skipping ice cream (both of which were incredibly painful, let me tell you). As a result, I felt sexy and light on my feet. I lose (but moreso, gain) weight very easily, so when I'm on my A-game, I (feel like I) could model on Project Runway. Emphasis on the parenthetical expressions.

My self-proclaimed buoyancy carried me to Friday, at which point I was seduced by silky French cuisine and the whispers of red wine. Refuse? Now, that would be terribly rude.

Unfortunately, I carried this philosophy to every meal, and bid adieu to self-control. She went out the window happily, leaving me to my own devices. With many a great menu in front of me, I dined on dim sum, Hawaiian fusion, everyone's dessert, and bottomless drinks. And, being the eternal tourist, I watched as my roommate took plenty of photos along the way. Although I'm slightly dismayed by my cheat weekend and the lead-like feeling I now have in my gut (wholly accompanied by a considerably empty wallet), I can say without the slightest hesitation that it was a damn good time.

Photos, above, clockwise from left: chicken and creamed spinach stuffed in puff pastry, with potatoes au gratin; honey-glazed shrimp with walnuts; soy-glazed salmon fillet, with tempura vegetables and sesame rice; the ever-holy warm chocolate souffle with vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce; credits to Kimberly Tu