Hiking Chantry Flats was like being in a goddamn fairy tale. It’s pretty much my favorite hike that I’ve done thus far. Unlike the Potato Chip Rock hike that tested my friendship with Pammie and Shi, not once did I think, “Fuck this bitch, I can go on without her!” Ha. Ask me again after we hike the Hollywood Sign…

I REGRET NOTHING.

24 Hour Fitness??? I’m screwed.

I took a shotgun trip to Vegas this past weekend with my sister and her fiance to finalize plans for their wedding this November. I’m going to be the best maid of honor ever! Or at least the sexiest one… I’ll work that angle ;) Ha.

Let the wedding workout regimen commence!

If you’re tired of starting over, stop giving up.

I stole this idea from Pinterest to put a dollar in a jar every time you go to the gym as an incentive to work out more. I picked one up from Ikea a week and a half ago, and it’s still empty! Although now that I think about it, I should really put $5 in it for every hour I was hiking that god awful mountain last Sunday.

I feel like I’m always losing the same ten pounds, because I do really well for a good chunk of time (usually around 8 weeks and when $407 is at stake—I’m just throwing random numbers out there). But soon after I remember how much I love food and hate exercising. I have yet to find a balance between the two.

A friend once told me, “I don’t live to eat. I eat to live.” At least I think that’s what he said… I could barely hear him over the crunching in my mouth as I polished off my carne asada chips! Ha.

Exercise in the morning before your body knows what it’s doing.

Oh, my body knew damn well what it was doing.

I said the last time was the last time, and I’d never go back… yet there I was, at an unholy hour on a Sunday, back at Mount Woodson with Shi and Pammie!

I’m pretty sure the sun tried to kill us all today. Worst five hours EVAR!

I can barely move my arms after working out with Jesse. I have blisters on my feet from yesterday’s hike with Shi. And while I wore pants, a long-sleeved shirt and a hat to protect my skin, the small area of my chest that was exposed got sunburned.

I think my body is rejecting me.

That 4-hour hike up Mount Woodson was brutal, but I somehow made it to the top and back down again with a little determination and a lot of blood in my shoes.

Your sunshine is as blinding as ever, Shirley May.

Apparently, I’ve agreed to hike up Mount Woodson at an unholy hour on my day off tomorrow! I don’t even know who I am anymore…

When Jesse told me that I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to, but if I did, I’d be sore in the morning, this was not how I expected to spend my evening! Ha.

And so there I was at the gym with him after work today, in two sports bras and a ponytail with my glasses securely bobby-pinned to my head. Hard to resist, I know, but somehow he managed!

Thanks for working me out and not pretending you didn’t know me when I nearly broke the tricep dip machine! I meannn. I’ll try to be less embarrassing next time!

I baked these cookie dough brownies for my boss’ baby shower at work today. I don’t plan on eating any of them, but I’m sure I gained 3 pounds just thinking about it.

Also, I’m skipping the gym tonight. This has nothing and everything to do with brownies, but I mostly just wanted to get that off my chest.

Considering I just spent 100% of my weekend being a fatass, spending 4% of my day at the gym was a small price to pay! Now excuse me while I go cry myself to sleep out of hunger. I didn’t get my ass handed to me during kickboxing for nothing!

Why else would I be working out on a Sunday morning?

I’m so happy that all my friends are getting married this year, I’m not even jealous. Except for at night when I’m in my closet eating ice cream alone.

My calves burn with the fire of a thousand suns after this beach hike with the girls, but it was worth it to hang out with this baby pancake ♥

Quote of the day:

What are you supposed to wear to this kind of thing?

Chel hasn’t worked out since before she was preggo, but she’s still skinnier than the rest of us! Boo whore.

Some friends of mine are running this zombie infested 5K obstacle course race. I’ve done 5Ks before, but this pretty much sounds like the makings of my worst nightmare!

In related news, I’m all caught up with The Walking Dead. What am I supposed to do now?

This is pretty much how my first day back at the gym went down.

I have three weddings coming up (none of which are my own, of course), and Yelp just threatened to take away my gym junkie badge due to a lack of check-ins. If that’s not a sign to start working out again, then I don’t know what is. Besides, isn’t the point of weddings to get good photos of yourself while you’re thin?

Whoever said that nothing tastes as good as thin feels has never had a Porto’s cheese roll, obvi. But I didn’t go to the gym at an unholy hour on a Saturday just to offset my workout by inhaling one of these delicious treats… that my aunt brought me from LA… that I probably won’t have again till Thanksgiving. Or Christmas. Or 2012.

Can’t a girl have options???

I won’t be able to make it, but there’s a “Party in Pink” zumbathon this weekend that benefits Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Research! Details here if you want to join the party. Dancer’s body optional.

Oh, Torrey Pines… I may be sore today, but I was thrilled to be on top of you last night.

1. Mel accidentally stepped on Chewy
2. Miko tore his ACL because being blind wasn’t enough of a handicap
3. Christine broke her foot jumping tires at Undisputed (true story!)

I think I pulled an inner thigh muscle using the beaver machine at Chuze last night. Is that sort of the same thing?

It’s hard to complain about exercising with a view like this…

Yesterday, I hiked at Torrey Pines with Shi, and I was DYING. I haven’t worked out in… what month is it now? My exercise ball has been sitting in the backseat of my car as a constant reminder that I haven’t worked out since Arlene moved to Monterey. I weighed myself yesterday to assess the damage, and I’ve only gained 6 pounds, surprisingly. I was expecting upwards of 15 or 20, but I guess it’s hard to tell if my clothes are fitting tighter when I’ve been getting all this mileage out of my leggings! Ha. I’m finally back on the grind, though. Arlene pretty much threatened my life before she left town, and I don’t doubt she would cut me if I gained back all that weight she helped me lose.

My goal is to look better at 30 than I did at 21. Considering I wore brown chola lip liner when I was 21, I’d say this goal may have already been reached. Ha.

Yesterday, I brought my lunch and gym clothes to work.

My untouched ground turkey is still sitting in the fridge because Mary and I had 25¢ wings at JT’s instead, and my unused gym clothes are still neatly folded in the trunk of my car because Christian wanted to go to happy hour.

My work’s proximity to the bar is clearly foiling my plans to eat better and work out.

Since Arlene is vacationing in Cabo this week, I thought I’d be able to take a vacation from working out. Apparently, I was wrong. Thanks Shi and Christine for keeping me motivated and making me run up and down this damn mountain! The view from the top was worth it.

Shi posted this picture of us inhaling Tropical Shave Ice on Facebook, and as a result, Arlene has threatened us with the PINK card at tomorrow night’s circuit training session… the same pink card that made me throw up (three times!) the first day I did it.

I didn’t even put any toppings on my shave ice!!!

Not on my first one anyway…

I may or may not have thrust my fist into the air in a silent cheer when I got the text message saying that our workout was canceled tonight.

In related news, Jesse is officially forgiven for writing this love note on my car:

Don’t say @DearMare didn’t warn you ;)

8 weeks, 1200 calories/day, 2 workouts/day, 42 pounds lost and $407 gained, bitches!

Ladies, you’re doing yourself a serious disservice if you think that a man can ever beat you in anything. Who cares whether or not they lose weight faster than you? Work harder, and show them that there’s nothing a man can do that a woman can’t do better, backwards and in high heels. TWICE!

I’m going to Vegas this weekend, and one of the outfits I packed was my gym clothes. What has my life come to? I’m crazy competitive, and I won’t let one weekend in Vegas ruin my #1 status in this @MindzAlike #BLC.

I will eat your babies, bitch! And I’ll lose weight doing it, too ;)

As a result of my second workout today, not only did I unlock Foursquare’s Gym Rat badge, but I also received an eyeful of some lady’s bearded clam! Yikes.

If you’re going to unleash your cat in the ladies locker room, can you at least have the decency to groom it?

So inconsiderate.

Me: they’re in for a serious rude awakening at the weigh-in tomorrow
Pammie: they’re gonna rue the day they met us bitches! rue!

Between the two of us, Pammie and I have lost over 25* pounds in this @MindzAlike #BLC so far! We don’t fuck around.

Six weeks to catch up, suckas.

*Update – 3/20/2011: 30 pounds now ;) What a difference a two-a-day can make…

Anthony: crab hut tomorrow?
Me: i can’t :( i have a weigh-in this weekend.
Anthony: let me know when this contest that appears to be ruining your life is over and we can go to crab hut. i mean, i can only go there in the company of celebs, such as those who have their pic on the wall.

The fact that I’m willing to risk my Crab Hut mayorship and dukedom alone should strike fear in the eyes of my fellow @MindzAlike #BLC participants.

Oh, Starbucks… you and your complimentary mini cupcakes can’t break me. I’ll stick to my zero calorie iced green tea with two splendas, thank you very much.

Between going to the gym at an ungodly hour, working 9-5, and circuit training with Arlene after work, I barely have enough time and energy to take a shower and do some light internet stalking before I cry myself to sleep at night out of hunger.

This pretty much sums up the next seven weeks of my life. FML.

I’m not gonna lie—my ass is pretty crucial.

My friend Rome once told me that I had an onion booty, and if he bit it, he would cry.

It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Errol: our boxing coach puts a 20 pound medicine ball on your lower back so you don’t put your butt up when you’re doing planks
Me: dude i totally put my butt up when it gets hard
Errol: that’s what she said!

I don’t want to see my colon tonight, guys.

Quote of the night.

This was me planning my exit strategy out of bed this morning.

I skipped our workout tonight for Mary’s birthday dinner, so Arlene told me to “prepare for a beat down” tomorrow. Yikes. Does carbo-loading with Hot Hot Mexican rolls from Sushi Deli 2 count as preparation?

When I’m not getting my ass handed to me by Arlene, I like to go to the gym and take turbo kickboxing classes. Or walk barefoot on shards of glass—pretty much any activity that’s less painful than working out with that crazy Mexican. I was early for kickboxing tonight, so instead of warming up on the treadmill, I played Angry Birds on my phone in the ladies locker room. This girl came in and asked me what time it was and if I was going to kickboxing. We started chatting, walked to the class together, and ended up working out next to each other. I don’t normally stay for abs at the end of class, but I didn’t want to look like a little bitch in front of my new buddy, Coleen, so I pushed through it. Afterward, she offered me her number so that we could go to classes together, and I found myself agreeing to work out with her Saturday morning. So not only do I get tortured by Arlene five times a week, I now have a gym buddy to push me at what’s supposed to be my safe haven away from Arlene! Why do Mexican girls always want to be my friend??? LOL. Ay guey.

When Arlene told me that we were going to do the “Spartacus” workout tonight, I expected there to be blood and sand.

This was worse.

Shi can barely make it up the stairs while I’m lying here in bed wondering whether to apply ice or heat. I’m pretty sure Arlene tried to kill us last night.

I don’t look half this cute when I’m pounding the treadmill.

My friend, Arlene, has given birth to four kids (including twins!) in the past decade, but you’d never be able to tell by looking at her. When she offered to whip my ass into shape this past weekend, I was at my ex’s sister’s wedding, surrounded by my ex’s entire family, and taking advantage of the open bar. And maybe the mini donut vendor, too. Clearly, I was at my most vulnerable when I agreed to let her train me!

We had our first boot camp session last night, and I feel lighter already. But that might be because I threw up during our workout. Three times.

Bitch doesn’t fuck around.

Last night after work, I wanted to do nothing more than go home and veg in my chones pajamas. I must have had a stroke when I agreed to hike Torrey Pines instead with Shi. The view from the top was worth jogging the straightaway (and then some!). Afterward, we had spicy lobster rolls at RB Sushi in our gym clothes and caught up on our love lives (or lack thereof—I’ll let you guess whose was lacking).

Lit – Miserable

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You make me come
You make me complete
You make me completely miserable

I heard this song on the way to the gym this morning, and it reminded me of high school. I’m not sure what’s more shocking—that this song came out over ten years ago, or that I went to the gym this morning?

Don’t answer that.

Two trips to the fair last week left me with fierce tan lines and an even fiercer waistline. I’m sure my special relationship with bacon last month didn’t help, either. Today’s a new day, though. I don’t have a particular goal in mind… No upcoming wedding to lose three dress sizes for. No birthday party for another ex-boyfriend… A belated attempt to wear a bathing suit in public, perhaps? (I wear my chones around anyone who will let me—is that not the same thing?) I suppose I have to do it for myself this time. Here goes nothing…

It’s officially summer, and for the 28th year in a row, I’m not ready for all this sunlight. Thankfully, I’ve moved out of my non air-conditioned apartment that I nearly melted in last year, so I won’t have any sudden urges to punch a baby in this heat. Being healthy isn’t enough motivation to lose weight for me. I entered a biggest loser competition at work last year, lost 20 pounds and won by less than 1% (suck it, Calvin!). And I did it all for just bragging rights and a celebratory croissant. I used to play Bejeweled Blitz religiously on Facebook just because whenever I’d beat someone’s score, it sent them a notification saying, “Booyah! Mayan fucking beat you, bitch.” Okay maybe it didn’t say fucking. Or bitch. Or booyah… but it still notified them, okay? Get off me. I would really like to get fit, so I need someone to compete with. And not someone like Jay who works out once a week while I’m pulling two-a-days… It can’t be that easy. But I want to start after I go to the fair this Sunday. And next Friday. And possibly next Saturday… Let’s just be safe and start this thing when the fair ends after the 4th of July.

Every night after work, I begrudgingly drag my ass to the gym. But today, I finally found my motivation. Turbo Kickboxing Instructor Mike, where have you been all my life??? It will be like that summer I took that art class in college with that hot teacher and had unusually perfect attendance that quarter ;)

Update: I just googled Mike to see what gyms he regularly teaches at since he subbed my class today, and his personal training site lists him as MARRIED (of course he is). Come to think of it, that hot art teacher from college was married, too.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure God wants me to die alone. And possibly out of shape.

I’m all about good food and good drinks with good friends, and this diet is just ruining my life. I don’t even know who I am right now. Did I really say no to Cinco de Drinko at D&B’s with Jay and his coworkers AND margaritas at Ortega’s with Shi and her coworkers this week? I think the bigger question is what’s the deal with me hanging out with my friends and their coworkers??? As a general rule, I don’t go out with the people I work with. At least not since my manager’s drunken birthday disaster of 2008. Yikes. Anyway, with only six weeks left till Chel’s wedding, I’ve been eating bird portions and hitting the gym every night in a late attempt to fit into the bridesmaid dress I purposely (and over ambitiously) ordered three sizes too small. Apparently, losing 25 pounds wasn’t enough. It would’ve been, had I lost it all in my chest. As I always say, these ladies are a blessing and a curse. This sudden spike in turbo kickboxing classes has also left me with some seriously sore stems. I have to admit, walking around like I’ve just been butt-raped has been very humbling.

I woke up at an ungodly hour this morning to attend boot camp with the girls downtown at Embarcadero Marina Park. We had a beautiful view of the marina, but I was too distracted by the sweat dripping into my eyes and the blinding pain in my legs from warming up on the stairs of the convention center. I’m definitely gonna be hurting tomorrow.

I officially have 90 days till Chel’s wedding. One dress size down, two more to go…

Do you guys want to know how to make these sit ups easier?
LOSE SOME WEIGHT!

Way harsh, Tai.

I came home from the gym this morning to this chocolate covered strawberry bouquet sent from my sister and her fiancé. I smell sabotage… sweet, sweet sabotage. I didn’t work out every day this week and pull three two-a-days to indulge in dessert—I did it so I could drink my sorrows away tonight with my single friends. My sister is so thoughtful, though :) She knows how much I hate this godforsaken holiday.

I’ve been on this crazy diet and exercise regimen for the past few weeks in preparation for Chel’s wedding. I just don’t want to be scrambling to lose three dress sizes in May to fit into my bridesmaid dress. Its pleated waistline promises to hide any indiscretions (like that wing-eating contest you entered the night before or that Mexican you didn’t know was hiding in your uterus), but I thought I’d be on the safe side and pull some two-a-days at the gym. I took kickboxing and salsa dancing today. My kickboxing instructor kept yelling, “Throw those punches! Squeeze those glutes! You gotta look good for your man on Valentine’s Day!” And I’m thinking, the only man who’s gonna see me naked on Valentine’s Day is my masseur at Chiropractique! Boo whore. At least someone’s hands will be on me that day…

I have six months to find a date fit into my bridesmaid dress for Chel and Flex’s wedding. A dress that I purposely ordered three sizes too small. It’s only day one of my diet and I’m miserable. Probably from all the food I didn’t eat. And all the Coke I didn’t drink. And the migraine I’ve had since I got home from work. I’ll have to keep reminding myself that “nothing tastes as good as thin feels” whenever I get the sudden urge to sit around and eat sticks of butter from different lands. It’s gonna be a long six months.

You don’t alter Vera Wang to fit you. You alter yourself to fit Vera.