Now Casting

For those of you who don't know me (or haven't seen me in awhile), I'm what we pleasantly refer to as "plus sized". In the vernacular, this means that, while I can tie my shoes and fit behind the wheel of a car, I'd be better off if I weighed just a bit less.

This, for obvious reasons, not the least of which are that I'm single, 34, and would like to, someday, perhaps, join a gift registry with someone other than The Invisible Man (which happened a couple years back at Marshall Fields when my parents couldn't figure out what to get me for Christmas.)

In any case, this extra poundage issue is not a new one for me. I've gained and lost enough weight in my adult life to be an expert at all things weight related. Want to know the serving size for a lean piece of protein? Come to my kitchen. Expect there to be chips around? Go somewhere else.

You see, over time, I've learned how to be incredibly active (well, occasionally active) by running, biking, doing triathlons, etc. But I've not put together the food AND exercise for a couple of years now.

Hence, The Biggest Loser Open Casting Call.

Yes, you read that correctly. Last Saturday, I gussied myself up, threw on my most adorable jeans, jacket and sparkly tee shirt (really, it was quite cute) and headed down to the NBC Tower with a ViP Pass (which allowed me to skip in front of the other 11,000 (yes, THOUSAND) people in line.

I was struck by two things at the casting call: first, I looked WAY better than anyone else in my group - or, for that matter, anyone I saw in line. Period. Not to be braggy about it, but my hair looked golden, my makeup was perfection, and at least I showered before showing up! (Which could not necessarily be said for my competitors).

Alas, no callback.

So I'm moving into the next phase: The Personal Video. Right now, I'm struggling with the screenplay. What will sell? Clearly, my "I'm fat BUT active" shtick didn't make it. 12 half marathons? Who cares! Licensed attorney? Who cares! Funny? Well, come to think of it, maybe funny didn't come through enough.

So I'm putting pen to paper and trying to give it a go...right now, I'm struggling between leading a revolt at Weight Watchers and fighting someone over the last batch of chocolate chips at the Jewel. Both of which have sort of happened at one time or another.

I'm kidding, really. What I'd like to do is create a tape that captures who I am. I promise to post the video when I'm finished. But for now, if you have any ideas, send them my way!

I'm also accepting recommendations for the background/theme music that should be playing in the background....so send it along!!!

V-Day: Single Style

Valentine's Day is usually pretty uneventful. Yet this year, mine was so completely and totally stereotypical that I had to disclose the events in full (and if this is not motivation to continue on Match.com, I don't know what is...)

6:30 a.m. Shower, shave legs, throw on running gear, go to group run. (No, the shaving was not completely necessary, but it made me feel better.)

9:00 a.m. Post-run trip to Starbucks. Show remarkable restraint ordering NO $4.50 mocha, instead order "Venti" Icewater (free) and low-fat banana-chocolate chip coffee cake. IT WAS EARLY. I STILL HAD RESTRAINT LEFT.

10:00 a.m. Return to car, find $50 parking ticket. CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE???

11:30 a.m. Shower again, curl up on the couch for a nap. I put on LIFE with Damian Lewis (my TV boyfriend) in the background.

12:30 p.m. Call from cousin Jess. We agree workouts on V-Day are big accomplishment. Maybe the only productive thing we'll do all day. We pat ourselves on the back. I go back to sleep. She goes to ger her hair cut.

1:30 p.m. Call from mom. Who reveals her giant pine tree wiped out neighbors electrical/phone on Wednesday. Mom is fine, electrical is fine. Tree is sleeping with the fishes. I'm reminded that life, and lumber, are fleeting.

3:00 p.m. Sucked into Hallmark movie. Wha???

6:50 p.m. Friend Val and I are comfortably ensconced in the near-empty Skokie theatre to catch Confessions of a Shopaholic. Woo HOOOOOO. Movie is so funny I cry several times.

8:45 p.m. Consider going to BW3s next to theatre, only to spy 200 15 year olds eating wings. Where are their parents???

9:30 p.m. Val and I call an audible for an emergency stop at KFC. Yes, that's right. Stupid new ad campaign. After debating the merits of various chicken combos, we both suck down crispy chicken something or others, and grin at the complete lameness of the evening. Thankfully, the two single Russian guys across from us don't make any comments. Though, they do seem to be headed out for a night of drinking, whereas we are heading to our homes. Well, Val is. I'm...

10:30 pm. Making an emergency stop at CVS for chocolate. Oh please, you knew this was coming. It takes 20 minutes to check out, which I think was God's way of telling me to PUT THE ALMOND KISSES DOWN and STEP AWAY FROM THE COUNTER. I don't listen.

12:00 p.m. Bed. I have bad dreams about the Hallmark movie girl beating up the Shopaholic girl because she spent too much money. Wha?

Another stellar Valentine's Day is in the books. Here's to next year!!!!

Dear Wall Street:

Dear Wall Street Bankers: (excepting my brother)

I am writing to tell you it's going to be okay. I hear you all are a little worried. There was this article yesterday in The New York Times about how hard it is to live on less than $500,000/year in New York. And then there was this article about how long it's been since many passed the $500,000 mark, and how hard it might be to go back.

One of the hallmarks of good citizenship is empathizing with those who are having hard times. I'm used to doing that with people who make about $12,000/year. Or less. Single moms who work two jobs, who never got the chance to go to college because they never had the confidence. Or working dads who rarely get a chance to see their kids because they're trying to put in as much overtime as possible.

It's rare for me to sympathize with people making $500,000/year. But I can do it. And what's more, I have some suggestions for you:

WAKE THE EFF UP.

You make more money in a year than most people in this country would make in five years. And you're not that smart. You use other people's money - OUR MONEY - to make deals, trade stock, and generally destroy what we work hard to achieve.

So what can you do now? Try this: move to a more affordable place. Live in a home that costs less than $8,000/month in mortage payments. Take the subway to work. Drop the personal trainer. Tell your kids to get a loan to go to college.

And stop whining. You're embarrassing yourself.

Thank you.

Oh the Karma

It was 50 and sunny here today in Chicago.

I got up, ran 4 miles with my running group, and generally had a ball.

Except for that part where I was avoiding a puddle, bit it on some ice/snow, and landed in 3 inches of water. And goose poop.

Lovely. Just lovely.

There's Something Wrong With You

Lately, when my mother has a whiff that I've gone round the bend, she takes a breath and half laughs "well, there's something wrong with you", like she's not feeling the exact same way.

We shared a moment earlier this week when we both admitted to a frightening case of "get me the hell out of here". Mine, due to the fact that I've been living in temperatures normally reserved for Arctic expeditions; hers, due to the fact that she lives in Cincinnati, and they've been under a blanket of ice for the better part of 4 days. I don't think they're comparable, but to be fair, there are no hills here, so I can't really say.

Luckily, mom is gainfully employed, so she's heading off on vacation soon. I can already smell the surf for her.

I find myself, on the other hand, contemplating whether it's better to jump on a plane to Florida or continue to sit in the cold, dark wintry mix that is 60660.

After much thought, I've decided that, while I love my father, and should probably go visit, I'm staying home. The daily job forecasts are depressing and make me want to scream, but I'm beginning to think that massive assualts on recruiter inboxes are the only way to come out of this successful.

Plus, there's the slim chance that my application to be on Oprah goes through, and well, I just can't miss that call.

I know, there's something wrong with me. Get in line.

Big Plans. Huge. Massive.

I love making plans. Plans are kind of like the stars for me - they look amazing from far away, I can spend hours gazing at them, and yet, while I appreciate them very much, I don't really have to DO anything about them.

Unless I get into a star-corralling mode, and then all bets are off.

These days, I find myself in just such a mode, as my ass has recently expanded to galactic-like proportions. I saw my GP this week, and while she is lovely, kind, and really glad my numbers are all good (impossible, I know, but true), she basically told me to stick to the spring/summer workout plan I had devised, and all would be better come fall.

So, to help, I've put together a summer race calendar that looks like a Midwest Tour of Champions.

In June, I will head to DC to see my old friend Kim from law school. I know, most of you don't hear me talk about law school friends often - and that's because there are few I keep in touch with. Kim is an exception. As she said the other day on Facebook, she's probably the only lawyer in DC who can rope a steer, operate a combine, and file a brief (or something like that). She bakes cookies like I do, and we're doing the Lawyers Have Heart 10k as a goal for both of us. I'm excited - both for the chance to see DC, as much as to hang with Kim for a few days. Plus, I haven't trained for a 10k in years, and it sounds SO much better than a 1/2 marathon!

In early July, I will head to Minneapolis for the Lifetime Fitness Triathlon. I'm going with my friend Val, and we'll be visiting her brother, and my friends Jen and Sarah, and their two lovely kids. A couple of years ago, Jen, Sarah, and Jen's sister Becky and me did the race. I remember two things: first, there were some gear changing issues when we left transition (um, I think actually I had to teach another unnamed participant how to use her gears :)); and second, it was a really, really pretty course. I'm looking forward to getting Val on the Tri bandwagon, and to doing this course like I mean it.

In late July, it's party time, as I head to Cincinnati to compete in the Cincy Tri with my family. We are a growing group - but at least five of us are committing to doing the race, either solo or as part of a relay team. At the end, we're hoping to be down some pounds, up some fitness, and holding many, many beers. To motivate us further, I'm considering what we should put on our shirts. "Stiens for Steins" might work, but we now include many other surnames. What about "Where's the Beer?" Or perhaps "IF I JUST PASSED YOU, WOOOO HOOOOOO!"

Finally, there's a late August race (either the Chicago Olympic or the Pleasant Prairie Olympic) which will be the highlight of my season. In 2003, I trained myself into the ground for the Olympic Triathlon. It was hard, and I loved every minute of it. I cannot WAIT to do this race, and to be fit enough to do it well.

So that's the goal. Finish these races, have a fun summer...oh, and be fully employed while I'm doing it!

With the cast of characters I've got coming along, I'm pretty sure I don't have a choice about being ready. I love it when a plan comes together!

I Stopped Traffic. Sort Of.

My mom told me that Ruby originally hailed from the hills of Tennessee. When we traced back my family tree at some point, I don't think I got very far. But I knew one thing about my grandmother: her phrases, her sayings, and some of that sass made it to my mom, and my aunt, and most definitely to my cousin, sister, and me.

I know, for instance, that I really should never leave the house without makeup. My mom never did. I mean, you were bound to run into someone at the grocery store, and there is NO way that she ever looks less than put together.

So today, when I was getting ready to go get my annual physical, I slathered on the Bare Minerals foundation (and seriously, those people make money because it ALL LANDS IN MY SINK and not on the brush...but anyway). I did something scary with bobbypins and my hair, and threw on my big Jackie O sunglasses for the trip downtown.

And, I'll admit, I felt pretty good. I had lipstick on (for the first time in at least two weeks). I looked kinda cute - and you could even see cheekbones on my face. So when I walked up to the platform at Sedgwick and the train slowed into the station, I smiled back at the cute conductor and hopped on the train.

Four stops later, I hopped off, and walked towards the exit. I felt the train start to pull out, and I slapped on my sunglasses, smiling at the fact that I needed them. And then, I hear the train slow, and a voice beside me. I look, and the conductor has pulled down the little window.

"If you don't mind my saying so, you are looking fabulous (or was it fantastic?) today," he says, smiling at me.

I bust open a big, toothy, seriously fine grin for this nice man, who clearly means what he says.

"Well, thank you!" I say, grinning back at him, extending my hand. We do a sort of shake/slap thing, and I immediately wish I was cooler at accepting complements from random conductors. "You know, I needed that today," I say, thinking damn, that feels good!

He smiles back. And I figure I'm now lacking in the complement department, so I say "You're looking pretty good yourself", and I smile, and start to walk away.

"Thank you" he says, and we both sort of grin. Well, I gotta go, and he has a train to drive, and I'm sure there are people in that car going all "why is that fool conductor flirting with the fat girl in the wide leg jeans?"...

"You have a good day now" he says to me, and I respond in kind, smiling as I walk away. But wait, there's more!

The train's moving again, but he's re-opened the window, and as he pulls away, he says "You know, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it!" and now I'm really laughing - the guy may be a player, but I don't care.

And all because I put on a little makeup, smiled back at someone, and, possibly, looked quite fine. Who knew jeans and some MAC lipglass could go so far? Maybe Ruby, and mom, knew something about looking good to feel good. Or maybe it was an unexpected jolt of Vitamin D from the sun. Either way, I'm still grinning.