It is 2 am as I sit on my balance ball and listen to Rammstein (really DYT?), finally finding time to blog. Not that I was working. I spent much of the day preparing Somalian food for my dinner guests. Italy’s colonization of the horn of Africa from about 1880 to 1941, where it controlled both ports and sheep meat, produced a fascinating hybrid palate melding African and Mediterranean flavours–tomato, nutmeg, basil, cardamom, jalapeno peppers, bananas. Continue reading
So I am in Lafayette, Louisiana looking at everyone’s bodies like I always do. There is a distinctive corporeal type for men in Louisiana; they are tall, top-heavy, blocky, with a belly that protrudes as they sit back on their heels, which are usually clad in cowboy boots. At the same time, they are graceful and comfortable in their own skin, despite the baseball cap and ill-fitting t-shirt tucked into high waist jeans. These men are rough looking but incredibly friendly and polite. Best of all they will readily hit the dance floor with their ladies, gently guiding them to a spot in front of the fiddle player. Oh how I envy them right now, as I sit at a table at Randol’s Restaurant and Salle de Danse, full of blackened catfish and gator bites, tapping my foot and wishing that my partner was here. He would not want to jig or waltz with me, but Iwould pull him onto the dance floor and he would finally agree in his good natured way, especially if I had managed to get him a little drunk beforehand. Aside: it is rather easy to get him tipsy and then take advantage of him. But if you try it I will find you and I will stab you. I remind him of that every now and then. If he runs off with another woman, I won’t get angry. I won’t cry. I will simply stab them both, probably to death. I say this calmly while looking him in the eye to make sure that he is paying attention. Speaking of stabbing, a man originally from Idaho told me that the murder rate is very high in Louisiana precisely because of the ever-present and obligatory hospitable politeness here. Residents do not express anger or dismay, letting it all build up until they finally snap and then start slicing and dicing. All I can say is ‘I feel you, mes cousins.’
So the University of Lafayette Campus has a swamp in the middle of it, right across from the Student Union Building, and yes it is filled with gators. Does it have a high fence surrounding it, you may ask? Well, there are some one-foot high concrete barriers, and they are used as benches. I ate my lunch there, while ocassionally looking over my shoulder, just in case…
‘Your ass has definitely perked up,’ commented my delightful young trainer–from now on I will call her DYT–as she aimed a camera at my backside. I was standing against the wall of the small consultation room at the gym. It was a little cold in my bare feet and pink 1950s rhinestone incrusted bikini. You know the one. I am wearing it as I relax on the beach…just look to the right. Today, however, I was standing up and trying to flare my lats instead of lying down and sucking in my gut. By the way, if you have tips for learning how to expand one’s lats without hunching forward like quasimodo, I would be pleased to hear them. Continue reading
I am currently reading a book called Figure Competition Secrets, and boy does it offer some interesting and useful advice. In fact, I am implementing some secrets right now by visualizing my success, standing a little straighter, and smiling. The author, fabulous figure girl Karen Sessions, writes mainly about fat loss, explaining how to ingest the right high-protein foods every three hours and transform one’s lovely lady lumps into a tasty treat. According to her ‘to compete in figure or just have the physique of such an athlete, you have to have all your ducks lined up. This includes:
• Nutrition
• Hydration
• Exercise (resistance training and cardio)
• Rest
• Supplements
Personal care for the figure stage such as:
• Hair
• Skin
• Nails
• Make-up Continue reading
This morning I was eating freshly baked pumpkin-spice-oatmeal muffins at a cafe–I had brought them in a tupperware container as a gift–with my adorable but injured graduate student. Her surgeon, she explained, had recently diagnosed her as ’healthy but abnormal.’ We giggled and sipped on the cappucinos that the sexy-but-too-thin-for-my-liking barista had brought over. Oh that’s great, I said. Can I use it for my blog? Of course, she enthused, before describing the simultaneously painful and pleasurable itch-relief she had felt when her surgical staples were removed. She knows where I live. Is it wrong that I am compelled by everything corporeal and abject? Probably not. Is it troubling that I had an adventurously erotic dream about Mantracker last night? Most definitely. Oh Mantracker, the passions that lie behind your steely blue eyes… Continue reading
