What is your workout personality?

Back in the days when I was young, I used to insist on suffering through grueling workouts thinking the most important thing was to get result. I would love to report that with age I’ve finally realized the nonsense of it all but no, I am still the same, hence, this previous post: Workout that delivers: 30 min hit.

“In fact, there’s nothing I hate more than wasting an hour at the gym moving around like a chicken in labor.”

My husband is the contrary. As proof, one of our many, annoying “discussions” on the subject:

Me: “Well, honey have you joined the gym class you were talking about?”

Hubby: “No, I have a couple of friends who want to join so I am waiting for them?”

Me: “Why? You don’t have to wait for your friends. Go ahead and enroll. They can join later if they want.”

He looked at me like you would a vicious water snake.

Hubby: “No, it is more fun in group!”

Me: “This is exercise. Not a summer picnic!”

He chose not to answer. Naturally, nothing gets me going more than hubby not answering. So I pressed on, thinking falsely that victory is near.

Me: “Plus, when you go with people you have to be nice, you have to make conversations, say hi and bye and inquire about them even if you don’t give a damn. And then when you’re done you can’t just disappear you have to let them know even at the risk of having some of them follow you all the way to the bus station just because they’re going the same direction.” (Insert rolled eyes emoji here).

This time he sincerely looked puzzled. I could actually hear his brains cells trying to process that last piece of info. Had I said the same thing on a first date, I probably would have never heard from him ever again. The last time he was this shocked was when he realized house chores were not my forte.

When he finally answered. It looked like this:

Hubby: “I see…when was the last time you showed up at your “favorite” kickboxing class?”

The double-headed snake!!! Trying to get back at me for helping him get results. I felt betrayed and vindicated because, well, he was right! I couldn’t even begin to answer that question even if I wanted because truth is, it is been a long, long time I have set foot in that class. It was clear I wasn’t going to win round.

Me: “Well, for your information, I am planning on going back next week…..(insert head in sand emoji here).”

Hubby: “I see…but wait! Didn’t you say the same thing last week?”

Most people would have taken this as a sign they lost the battle but not me. Being a Libra, I am predisposed to ignore signs of danger in the pursuit of enlightening others. It ain’t over until I make a fool of myself. Please, don’t judge me. Some would call me a sore loser. Well, one person did. It was dear husband.

Me: “Touche! Well, you do whatever you want. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

This sentence must have been uttered by every sore loser on the planet while they are  lamely scurrying away for cover. While I was trying to digest my burning defeat, the cold-hearted man finished me with that last sentence.

Hubby: “Well, I have no interest in self-torture so if you’ll excuse me I’ll go and play some video game.”

As you can see if dear husband is not having a lot of fun while exercising and I mean a whole lot of it, he won’t do it.  Which brings me to workout personality. I know for myself when it comes to working out, if I am not suffering, I am not happy. I don’t feel like I am working out if I am not sweating like a pig. If I am not bitching before a training session, I am not happy either. In fact, there is nothing I hate more than wasting an hour at the gym moving around like a chicken in labor.

Of course, the downside of that is I don’t show up if I don’t feel like 100 percent, which would explain why I’ve been missing in action at the gym for weeks now. Not good. Not good at all. There may be a grain of truth in what the man is saying after all….

What about you dear readers? What’s your workout personality? How does it differ from people around you?

Don’t forget to share, like and comment this article to your heart content and talk soon!

Big love is fattening

They say love is two people looking in the same direction. I’ll add one more thing: love is two people steadily gaining weight together. If that’s the case me and hubby we are madly, terribly in love. We’ve been steadily gaining weight since our first encounter some four and half years ago and I have pictures to prove it.

This is me around the time I met my husband…..If you ask my husband I was just hungry and lonely, lol

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If you ask me this is the best I’ve ever looked. Skinny with no hair. Some haters would say I look like a boy about to hit puberty but I don’t care. While I was parading thinking I was the hottest thing since slice bread dear husband was desperate for me to put a bit of meat on those bones.

Our gaining weight together time line:

1) Our second date…as you can see I dressed to impress…

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2) Our first Christmas together

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3) Hubby feeling himself…

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4) me feeling myself….

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5) and finally the end ….

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Well, well, well, I’d say we’re busting out of happiness:) we have to keep it in check so if you’re in a relationship and you’re now double your weight consider yourself happy! It is understood  that we must do something soon or we wont make it to our 10 year anniversary.

 

My everyday jewelry

“As a Haitian, jewelry is an integral part of our core. In fact, there can only be two explanations for not wearing any jewelry at all: Either you’ve joined the extreme wing of some religious group or you’re in mourning.”

Kids ears tend to get pierced as early as one year old. Sometimes even sooner. In retrospect remembering that does make me smile considering a lot of people here don’t wear any type of jewelry at all. Although I must say in Montreal people tend to wear at least one piece of well-crafted jewelry since we are lucky enough to have a good amount of designers excelling in that field. So you could say not wearing any jewelry for me is against nature but I’ve been known to go without.

Below are a couple of shots of my go-to jewelry lately:

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Proof I’ve mastered my resting bitch face 🙂

Shot two

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Shot 4

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I am also definitely planning on spicing things up by piling on the bling a little bit more. We’ll see…:). Thank you for passing by and gros bisoux!

What makes for a satisfied and memorable meal: Writing about food using all your senses.

I recently signed up for a food writing class and it’s been a blast! Lately I’ve been trying to spice up my writing and attack the whole process from a different angle which is why I’ve specifically signed up for the class. Here is an excerpt of the class introduction on the QWF (Quebec writer’s federation) site:

“But it isn’t just what’s on our plates that we write about when we write about food. As the famous American food writer M.F.K. Fisher once wrote: “It seems to me our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it… and it is all one.” 

As a first  generation immigrant, food is a way for me to carry a bit of my culture’s ADN with me wherever  I go and being able to hopefully pass some of it down to my children some day. I am Haitian and the surest way to kill me is to prevent me from eating rice or all sort of grain for that matter. You do that and you’ll have my death on your conscience :). I was raised on grains, healthy grains that is. I have been eating that stuff since I was a baby! In fact, in Haiti, we don’t really have food specifically dedicated to babies, except for the occasional Gerber baby pot which is not used that often. Our version of baby food is usually a mash version of adult food except that it’s packed with a lot more food designed to fortify and nourish like spinach, carrots, bananas, beans, plantains, etc.,. All of this is introduced as soon as the doctor allows solid food.

“Food is not just about fuel and sustenance. It’s about people and places and the history behind those people and places. It’s about a mood, a specific time and place coupled with a specific emotion…”

Throughout the class, one question that keeps coming up time and time again is: What makes for a happy, satisfied and memorable meal? Is it the people we share it with? the emotions and memories it evokes long after the experience is gone? Is it a specific time and place? I am inclined to think it is all of the above.  Food can carry so much memories, so much meaning fueled with faces and places and emotions. In class, we are encouraged to use all of our senses when writing a piece of food review.

Our third class was about food photography. For this class, our teacher prepared a tray full of all kinds of sins worthy of a game of throne gathering. Here is a pic below. It is not one of my best because we were pressed for time and my phone was dying:

Mood: “A lazy Friday night in with sex on the menu and possibly a few episodes of Game of thrones…”

Taste: “This bread right here tasted like the first day of Spring after a long harsh winter…” and yes I am on a low-carb diet 🙂

I came to this class to better my writing and instead it’s been like a trip down memory lane and a reminder of my roots. Our exchange in class makes me realize food is one of the few small pleasures we can all enjoy to some degree. A way to make life more full and happy. Since starting the class, I try to be more appreciative of what I eat and enjoy it a bit more more and not rush it. I am also happy to report writing scenes demanding a  great deal of description  in my novel has gotten a lot better and easier. I now feel like I have the right tools to progress in the right direction.

Thank you for passing by and don’t forget to comment, like or share this article. Gros bisoux!

 

 

 

It is my birthday week!!!!!

“When life hands you a lemon, don’t make lemonades, find good lighting and take a selfie!”

The day I took these selfies, I went for some vaccine and receive quite a bit of disappointing news. I was discouraged. While I was sitting in the health clinic waiting room I noticed my particular corner was literally flooded with the most amazing light. I felt like I was sitting under the glow of a 1,000 candle lights. My vain little self immediately took over and before I knew it I was pouting and posing as if my life depended on it. At some point I even stood up trying to get a better angle of my accessories. The poor man sitting across from me looked very worried. He was probably asking himself if he should call out one of the nurses 🙂

I thank God everyday for my vain self!

Last year I turned 40 . I felt like a bitten human being turning into a vampire for the first time. This October I turned 41. Forty-one. Can’t believe I am already 41! Of course, I look nothing like it people, let it be said and pondered and remembered 🙂  I have no words of wisdom except “Do what works for you and stay pretty”.

“We are all going to age no matter how many collagen masks we do.”

 I am grateful. Yes I am! No matter how many times I have ranted about the fact that I am getting older. Now more than ever I do realize lots of people would have liked to be alive today celebrating another milestone. But they are not because life decided otherwise. Still, sometimes ungratefulness kicks in and I forget all about it 🙂

Celebrating my birthday also means that Fall is here to stay. Yes to hot drinks and Netflix marathon with my main squeeze (only squeeze, really)! And most importantly: Christmas is around the corner so I can start listening to Christmas music 🙂

Thank you for passing by 🙂

 

 

 

 

Hairdresser from hell made me look like a baby dinosaur

I remember it like it was yesterday when I call to book that hair appointment. I had been thinking about a drastic haircut for a while now. This time I had told myself I wanted to look completely different. A real departure from my usual self. I wanted to feel elevated and posh (Insert pink champagne emoji here). It just happened I used to pass by a certain hair salon all the time on my way to work. To be truthful it looked a bit posh with people coming out of there looking like retired models. I guess I was hoping some of that chic vibe would rub on me. Go figure…

“I could already see myself walking out of there finally looking like my higher self: long, lean, with hair that could double up as a parachute if needs be (I never seem to have enough volume)……..”

 When I called to make the appointment, the clerk made it a point to let me know that the person who does my type of hair is part owner of the salon and does mostly photo shoots and big projects with the likes of artists and such. In other words, I should feel grateful he even accepted to touch my mere mortal head (at this point I am feeling rather emotional and grateful). Fast forward a few days later and I am sitting at the salon waiting for the haircut of my life. First of all, the assistant who shampooed my hair acted like my scalp was made of broken  glass. Although I like a bit of a scrub, I refrained from mentioning it for fear of sounding like I usually get my hair washed by Shrek. After the shampoo she announced the “coiffeur” won”t be long. After her departure, I sat there conscious my life was about to change forever, a historical moment so to speak. Well, my life was about to change all right. 

 “I came in looking like a law abiding citizen and came out looking like a baby dinosaur who just survived a hurricane”

 Finally, the headmaster deigned to gratify my mere mortal broke self of his presence. He looked rather annoyed, like a true artist who’s forced to earn a living while waiting for ‘his art’ to sustain him. I suppose I was not his type of clientele. Nevertheless, he “sucked it up” and got to work. When I tried to show him a few pics I had brought, he silenced me with with a raised eyebrow. I felt as intimidated as if I had interrupted a famous painter. When he finally finished what he probably thought was his “work of art “, he let out a big sigh.  Then and only then did I dare look in the mirror. Shocking. I no longer looked like I belonged in the human species. In fact, I looked like a baby dinosaur who just survived a hurricane.

I was so shocked I didn’t say anything for a good little while. He was beaming. I had become “his creation”. I briefly thought about crying but realized with such a haircut, I would probably look even worse (read: deranged baby dinosaur). I ran my fingers through the few strands of hair I had left and mustered enough courage to ask him how he thought I should style it. His answer: “Just let it do its thing”. My answer: “Ah, I see..”. I had expressed interest in a set of comb upon my arrival, he graciously gifted it to me. He might have realized I was this close to commit murder. Confused, I said thank you and rushed home where I spent the rest of the evening alternating between moments of staring at myself in the mirror trying to look like a cute baby dinosaur  and moments of intense cursing out loud.  

My advice: If you’re not used to the hairdresser and you’re going for a drastic cut, go progressively. This way if the first haircut doesn’t work out you can at least leave your house. Second: Ask to see their work (Obvious, right? Well, apparently not cause I didn’t do any such things…) Did I mention I was a sucker for eccentric and weird human beings? Well, now you know.  I suppose that’s what you get when you have a penchant for incompetent people masquerading as eccentric artists…

What about you lovely readers? I’ d love to hear your own experience…

Thank you very much for liking, commenting and sharing this article and gros bisoux:)

 

Workout that delivers: 30 min hit

I remember the first time I set foot into a 30 min hit location. Let’s just say it was rather under special circumstances….

“I had two choices: Lose a dress size or remove a rib cage…naturally considering my low pain tolerance, I went with the first option.”

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I had to lose a dress size in order to fit into an already bought and paid for wedding dress to be more precise. The ladies at the dress shop were actually nice enough not to say anything when the zip threatened to break as they try to zip me up into my soon to be wedding dress. I kept my eyes glued to the ceiling for fear of having to meet their embarrassed glares. I wasn’t breathing but still it wouldn’t do.

Luckily for me some alterations could successfully be performed.  I could come back in 4 weeks for one last fitting once alterations were made but that was it. Which meant if I came back even half a pound fatter I’d need to get married in a potato sack. Naturally, it didn’t help that every single bride to be who came in that day looked like broom sticks.

So with images of myself busting out of said dress flooding my mind, I went on a frantic google search to find some form of training that would allow me to lose a dress size in 4 weeks with normal good nutrition (no severe portion control and sleeping on a treadmill involved). That’s when I discovered 30 min hit.

“With proper diet, it’ll whip your belly fat into muscle in no time. Allow for 4 to 6 weeks and you’ll be amazed. Which explains why I am willingly putting myself through torture by going there 3 times a week.”

How does 30 minute hit work? Well, it’s a high intensity interval training made out of 13 stations that lasts about 2 minutes each with 15 seconds break between stations. Each 2 minutes is broken into  8 x (15 seconds) time increment where you alternate between 15 seconds high intensity and 15 seconds normal pace. The entire circuit takes around 30 minutes.

Now you may be thinking to yourself “2 minutes and you’re complaining? Fabienne, you’re a wimp” Well, this isn’t just two minutes. This is 2 minutes with a trainer on your tail pushing encouraging you to go harder and harder. At any given time there are usually two trainers circling the floor like hungry sharks smelling blood. It’s like they have sensors that can pick up on signs of muscle failure and tiredness. Plus, they don’t just pass by and yell “go harder”. No Sir. They stay by your side for a good 15 seconds (which under the circumstance feels more like a quarter of a century) and watch you go harder and harder all the while matching your every kick and punch with words of encouragement. I personally didn’t know two minutes could be that long. Talking myself into doing this three times a week is a workout in itself.

“The only workout that makes 2 minutes feels like a quarter of a century”

At the beginning of  the circuit I usually try to have some dignity and look a bit graceful (jumping rope) so that when I look like a whale with heart failure people can at least remember I started out a bit more gracefully. But then again I shouldn’t be worrying about that since everybody is kind of busy trying not to drop dead on the floor. By the time I reach the 11th station all sense of dignity and grace has left me  and I usually look like a ballerina with hip problem. At that point my legs are so weak I am usually crawling.

My favorite part is when I find myself at the last station and I know I only have two more minutes to go before I can go crash one the cool down mat and I promise myself not to come back. I now understand why women keep having children despite the pain of childbirth. The pain outweighs the joy in the end. Nothing makes me feel as good and spent as this workout. With proper diet, it’ll whip your belly fat into muscle in no time. Allow for 4 to 6 weeks and you’ll be amazed. Which explains why I am willingly putting myself through torture by going there 3 times a week.

FINAL VERDICT: I highly recommend. And in case you’re wondering: yes, I am a masochist. Albeit a very vain one who prizes looking good and feeling good above all 🙂