I don't want to see you naked

The move to the suburbs has necessitated the joining of a new gym. In Brooklyn I belonged to a one off gym that was right across the street from my apartment. It was the ultimate convenience, but it wasn't a big gym, like NYSC, which I now belong to. I really like the NYSC, they have huge gyms with a lot of equipment I've never had access to before, like the "evil stairs to nowhere" as I call them, a machine that looks like a simple staircase, but kicks your ass when you try to climb it.

During the week it is too complicated to try and go to the NYSC branch near my house (its about a 5-1o minute drive over there, and as it is, we need to get up before 6:30 am to catch our train). So I have started going to the NYSC near my office. I've never had to spend much time in a gym locker room, since I lived so close to my old gym that I just hung up my coat and went to work out. But now I have to bring a backpack and lock up all my stuff and then shower after I work out before I go to the office.

This has brought on a challenge for me, as I am not a fan of public nudity. The main issue is the towel situation. Besides being scratchy to the point of feeling like loofahs, the towels are impossibly small for covering yourself up. I've seen one trick that many of the women employ that involves tying one towel around the waist like a mini skirt, and then draping the other towel like a scarf over their necks to cover up their boobs. This one is not an option for me, as I happen to have very broad hips and only the largest of towels will actually wrap around my body and also cover my business.

I have come up with a solution that works for me. It involves several steps, including discreetly undressing in a way that exposes little of my body while simultaneously covering myself up with a sarong I keep in my gym bag. Then I carry a plastic bag with my undies and bra in it, along with the key to my locker and two towels. After I dry off in the shower, I cover again with the sarong, go to the bathroom, put on my bra and panties, and then re-cover with the sarong, go unlock my locker and discreetly change into my clothes. I know it sounds complicated and prudish, but really it's quite simple and protects my interest in being modest. And besides, I work less than 4 blocks from this gym. There is a good chance that co-workers might work out here. I saw one chick once that works in the direct mail department. I don't want her to see me naked, and I don't want to see her naked. I would keep covered up just for that purpose even if I loved being nude.

I am also apparently, the only person who believes in such modesty. The towel boob scarf is really the more covered up of the nudity styles I see at the gym. There are several different and disturing variations. There is the lady who wants her bottom business covered, but walks around with her boobs out, even while she is drying her hair. There is the woman who is quite heavyset that wears thong underwear and stands around pantless for longer than seems necessary. There's also the woman who walks to the shower completely nude (actually, there are several of those).

And the craziest I've seen was the girl that was completely naked, and then lifted her leg up onto the bench, which she was doing strangely enough to balance her towel on her leg (just the folded up towel, it wasn't used to cover anything) so she could comb her wet hair completely nude and well, let's face it, a bit on the ahem, exposed side. It was a little much for me. I just don't want to see all these naked strangers. I realize my body issues might make me a little too caught up in not showing off my body, but what's with these people that are naked for longer then necessary for no reason at all? What's that about?

But then again, whenever I find the gym nudity too weird, I just think of what my hubby told me. In his gym, there is a dude that spreads eagle and blow drys his balls. Nuff said.

How does that happen?

I am obsessed with the Biggest Loser tv show. I lurve it. I love it even though they always edit it stupidly which makes the show drag on way longer than it needs to. I love it despite host Allison Sweeney looking like a five year old dressed her and did her makeup in the dark. I love it even though the product placements are getting way out of hand - "Why not store your sugar free gum with your Jello in this Ziploc bag". I love Jillian's "beatings", I love Bob's over emotional tantrums, I love seeing people sweat such an ungodly amount, and I love the finale when everybody just looks like completely different people. Like they unzipped their fat bodies and just stepped out into a new life.

I find the transformations so amazing, both the mental and physical. I've always felt that becoming confident in myself was the key to losing weight, and that having lost all that weight and keeping it off (55 pounds, holla) have helped my overall confidence. I think that although the exercise level is CRAZY (8 hours a day, I believe) that these people, who previously thought they were big fat lazy losers, figure out that they can actually work out for that long without dying. Many fat people (my former self included) are really deeply mired in self pity and fear (not all fat people, I know there are happy fat people, ok?). So that's why them seeing themselves able to accomplish physical feats they believe impossible gives them the strength to continue on.

But there is one contestant this season who's been blowing my mind. Not for his enormous size (he was one of several contestants to come on the show over 400 pounds!) but because he has an incredibly bizarre distribution of the fat on his upper body. Please see below:



On the left is Mike and on the right is Ron. They are the brown team. Mike has a fairly normal distribution of fat, with small man boobs, and a large roundish stomach. Ron on the other hand, my hubby and I have been referring to as "triple nipple". I suppose this isn't quite accurate, since technically, his appearing to have 6 breasts would mean a corresponding 6 nipples, but you get the point. It's a litle hard to see in the picture but I think you get the idea.

He has three distinct sections of his chest. It's incredibly odd. I've heard reference I think to him possibly having had a tummy tuck after he last a lot of weight in the past with gastric bypass. This may be where this sort of comes from, because if he didn't have any room anymore to have the fat be distributed to a certain area of his body, it may have started depositing itself oddly in other areas. But genuinely, I've never seen anything like it. It's mesmerizing, but only in the most ooky way possible. And I feel bad for him every time he takes off his shirt to weigh in. Because it's hard enough going on this show, sweating in front of America and having to have all your fat hang out for the weigh in, but doing so with the weirdest upper body possible, that must be worse.

Honestly, You're Not Sorry

I have a condition called Celiac Disease. It's an intolerance to wheat gluten, which means that I can't eat any of the following things:

Flour
Cookies
Cake
Pretzels
Bread
Cereal
Donuts
Cupcakes
Cake
Fried Food
Pasta

There are a number of other, more random things I can't eat:

Pringles - The only potato chips I've found that are made with flour
Soy Sauce - They actually add wheat gluten to it (why?????)
Twizzlers - Would you have guessed that one? I was totally surprised by that!

Any number of bajillion other annoying things are also gluten filled, like for example, certain chicken broth, most salad dressing, many many sauces, sprinkles, etc.

To answer your first question: No, getting diagnosed with this did not make me skinny. I know, right? You'd think there was nothing fattening left to eat. But you are forgetting Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, which are gloriously gluten free. I'm kidding - there's still tons of food in the world I can eat.

I was diagnosed about five years ago, and at first it did feel like there was going to be nothing left to eat, and also like I was being punished. No more bagels? For real? But you know, I was happy to stop throwing up and all the other extremely unpleasant symptoms of the condition I had developed over the years.

So I adapted my life. No more bread basket at restaurants. No more birthday cake at parties. I had to be more creative in my eating - breakfast and lunch on the go can be hard (especially the no sandwich thing!) but man, you can really make anything work if you need to. I eat these things for breakfast called "Envirokidz Bars." They are children's gluten free puffed rice cereal bars. And I eat the peanut butter flavor, which has a panda on the box (each flavor has its own theme animal). And you know what - they are actually delicious! And portable. And only like 2 weight watchers points (Weight watchers is a story for another day though).

But now it took me like ten paragraphs to get to the point of this story. Which is that the one thing I probably like least about having celiac disease is people's reaction to it when I explain it to them. Here's a good one: "Oh my god, I would die if I had that!" Gee thanks.

Another fave: After eating something with gluten in front of me (which is fine with me, its not an airborne allergy, so really, I can't expect people to change what they eat just because of me and I wouldn't want them to) they will be like "Oh this is SO DELICIOUS. Oh sorry Lisa, I feel terrible for eating this in front of you. But it's soooo good." Um, shut the fuck up ok?

Now, I am soooo not going to compare having celiac disease to having one leg on any kind of serious level. But let's just re-imagine those 2 scenarios if that was the case. "Oh Lisa, I can't believe you have one leg. I would just die if I had only 1 leg. Thank god I have 2!" or how about this: "I love running. Running is so much fun. Oh, sorry Lisa, I know you have one leg, and you'll never be able to run. I won't run in front of you anymore."

Rude, right? Just let me live in my world, where I have to pretend that bakeries are invisible. And bring me some peanut butter cups, stat.

How tiny is my face?

I've never really thought about whether or not I have a big head. I know that when I was fat (not being disparaging, I was in fact genuinely fat) I had a full, roundish face, like a cookie maybe.

A few weeks ago, being inspired by all the girls on Hollywood week of American Idol with these great swishy bangs, I decided I had to get some of my own. So far it's not that easy to get my part to cooperate with the new sideswept bang. My part appears quite hostile about the hair I am trying to borrow from the other side of my head to make the bang fuller and cuter, but I am kind of loving it, feeling a litle bang-tastic.

Reaction to the bangs has been quite positive (with the exception of the hubby, who is on the fence). However, twice in the past two weeks, people commenting on the lovely new bangs took the opportunity to mention that I have a "little" face or a "tiny" face. Is that a compliment? An insult? A statement? I find it so weird, especially since it's not like my whole life people have been talking about how small or tiny my face/head was. I mean, there was a girl I went to college with, who had such a small head in proportion to her body, that several people I know called her "I have a tiny head". And no, you didn't misread that, her secret nickname was actually a statement. And you were supposed to say it in a high pitched cartoon voice. Yes, I know, it's weird. But funny.

So this week at work, Ryan, the cute patootie chick at my lunch place (seriously, she is so my fave cashier that I will not let any of the other cashiers ring me up, even if it means I have to wait) kept going on about how I could rock those bangs because of my small face. And last week this other woman at my office was saying she likes my short hair better than my long hair (My hair is now about shoulder length, and it used to be half way down my back) because my face is SO TINY that short hair suits it better.

But now I am left wondering - do I in fact have a tiny head? Is it freakishly small? Have I been walking around with an undersized head all this time without knowing it? Maybe it just looks small in comparison to my butt, which is as everyone knows, is quite large for my body. :)

My Subway & Train Rules, or Why It's Ok for Me to Hit You

I hit someone with my book the other day. He didn't know I hit him, it was more of a tap really, and I did it to his back, but still. It was a guy in the subway station, and he was blocking my way to the staircase. Never before has the path to the subway stairs caused such anger. But now that we are suburban dwellers, we have added the Metro North train to our previous, subway only commute. And because we now have a train that is on a schedule, I MUST MAKE THAT TRAIN. Ok, to be fair, another train will come in like twenty minutes if I don't. But I don't want to wait twenty minutes. I want to take the train I planned on taking, and if you are blocking the subway stairs, I will do things to punish you. Like elbow you, or hit you with a book. I'll do so subtly enough that you wouldn't even realize I did it on purpose. But I did.

I have also extracted this revenge on people that I feel are violating the rules of waiting for the Metro North train. When hubby and I get off the train in the morning at Grand Central, there are already people waiting to get on our train, presumably for their freaky reverse commute to the suburbs (why would you live in the most expensive city possible if you worked in the suburbs???). Most of the people who are waiting for the train will wait at the top of the platform. That's because they are smart enough to realize that a) this train is not leaving the station for at least 10 or 20 minutes b)there are significantly less people waiting for this train than there are seats, so they are obviously going to get the seat they want.

Which brings to mind this question - why do the other half the people waiting for the train charge at it like wild animals, when I am trying to get off the damn platform in the morning? I don't know the answer to that question, but I do know this. I can carry my purse with my arm supporting it, elbow stretched out like I'm doing the teapot dance. And said protruding elbow might just smack at least half of those annoying people in their side when I walk by. Ooops.

Is this a healthy release of my hostility? Not sure. But so far, it's fun.

Primordial Dwarves

So I should admit that I have a bit of an obsession. I am fascinated by human difference, in particular, physical human differences. I have watched shows on TLC and Discovery Health about face eating tumors, people with tails, a girl who walks on her hands, a boy whose lower leg is on backwards, a girl born without a face (that one was really upsetting, actually), a guy with hands that looked like trees, a man with half a body, a woman with half a body, a girl with a mermaid like condition, the list goes on and on and on and on. I really think, had I been born in the early part of this century, that I would have frequented circus sideshows. I know, it's really weird.

But of all unique human conditions, my main fascination has always been conjoined twins. Lorrie & Dorrie, Cheng & Eng, and of course my absolute favorites, Abby and Brittany Hensel, pictured at right, the incredibly brave, motivated girls who have a total between them of two arms, two legs, one set of genitalia, and of course, two heads. They are two people, not one, but they, for all intents and purposes, do look like one person. And really, you can spend hours just thinking about all the interesting things about their lives. Like, how they can run and swim and drive a car - all things they very ably do!


However, I think that I have recently found a new human difference that might be even more interesting to me than conjoined twins. And that, ladies and gents, is the human phenomenon of primordial dwarves. These are not your average dwarves, of which I also know a great deal about (is it weird that I want to attend the LPA, or Little People of America, convention?). But these dwarves, of which there are only about 100 in the world, are tiny little miracles. They are the smallest people on earth, and unlike the dwarves you are used to seeing out and about or on shows like "Little People, Big World", these primordial dwarves are proportionate.

The most common form of dwarfism is achondroplasia, and that's what I am referring to when I say the dwarves you are used to seeing - they have larger than average heads and foreheads, regular sized torsos and butts, and then short arms and legs with short, wide hands. Not primordial dwarves. They are more similar to the "midgets" of yore. They pretty much look like people that are shrunk down to tiny size. And when I say tiny size, I mean teeny tiny little sized. I will post some pictures for you below so that you can marvel at their teenyness. As long as you do so in a respectful way. Because I've got to tell you, when I watch these shows, what I am most impressed with is how strong willed and brave most of these people are. Their lives, for one genetic reason are another, are so complicated and different from ours, and yet they make it work.

How this blog got its name

The other day I told my husband that my company had announced they were giving out bonuses this year. His response was along these lines (I can't remember his exact quote) "That's so a barbeque!"

I didn't immediately connect the dots on the meaning of his words. I pondered what this unique expression might mean. Hubby grew up in Brooklyn in a fairly urban environment, and as such, has a handful of slang expressions in his bag of phrases that I was not used to when I started dating him. I have adopted most of them quite eagerly as I love new slang (my favorite so far is "dumb" as in very, ex: "the supermarket was DUMB crowded").

So I am like what, is that a new expression? Like "You're getting a raise, that's SO barbeque!" But actually, his mind was just making the immediate leap between the potential of bonus money to buy us a BBQ grill for our backyard. We just moved to a house in the suburbs from an apartment in Brooklyn, so we are very excited about the potential to grill this summer. So excited in fact that hubby has already earmarked my bonus for his need for grilled meat.

Me in the meantime, I am now going around commenting on the coolness of stuff and saying "Wow, you cut bangs? That's so barbeque!"

Just try it. It's fun.