On Retaining Motivation

Ginger Spice

Ginger Spice

I’ll just leave this here …

Twitpic O’ the Day: If You’re Not Helping, You’re Hurting

If you're not helping, you're hurting

If you’re not helping, you’re hurting

This post was inspired by a rather heated (40 or so comments) discussion on Facebook about whether misogyny within the ranks is holding back the Occupy movement. Make no mistake: it is. If you chart the flamewars on FB alone, the male individuals against female individuals flamewars are running about double the rate of the male on male flamewars, and this is AFTER the most sensitive women left the group altogether. This came as a huge, and saddening, surprise to me; I was raised in the era of Equality, when fighting for the rights of women was as accepted as fighting for the rights of black people or the handicapped. Apparently, when we were resting on our laurels and telling ourselves we’d come a long way, baby, things slipped backwards.

But silence is a form of collusion, as this image from AnonCircle points out, and it’s time to speak out.

One of the most telling signs of the backsliding: despite that thread being prominently featured in my friends’ news feeds and in various Occupy Vancouver Facebook groups and pages, I was the only woman who commented on it publicly. In a depressing version of “the lurkers are with me” I received many private messages of hearty support from women.

I, naturally, challenged them.

“If you think that, why do you not post it? Why are you telling ME that women deserve equal respect? I already know this.”

“Because I wanted you to know I support you.”

“Then support me. Take my left flank. POST.”

Result: one comment. One is an infinite times greater than zero, so I’m counting this as progress. Courage and support are not courage or support if they melt away like a vampire in daylight.

GPOY: Tiara Edition

GPOY Tiara Edition

GPOY Tiara Edition

The most revolutionary part of this picture? The absence of pink. I’m not kidding here: go to any children’s wear store and look around: PINKPINKPINKPINKPINK as far as the eye can see, right up to the boy’s department, which has every colour except pink. Why? Seriously, why? Is it in fact essential that total strangers be able to tell our children’s sex from three furlongs away? Or is it, come to think of it, kinda freaky, not to mention tacky?

I think you know my answer.

Word of the day: Sapiosexual

Word of the day Sapiosexual

Word of the day Sapiosexual

Now that is what I call sexy. Hmmm, how do I hook this up…?

Geek Online Dating with Julian Assange

Geek Online Dating with Julian Assange

The Shape of Things to Come

Mylene Farmer could never be called modest

Mylene Farmer could never be called modest, but if YOU looked like that, would YOU be?

Followers of the ol’ raincoastersphere, specifically Manolofood.com, will be aware that I recently did a 48-hour hunger strike, and only cheated once. During this fast, I gained three pounds. I do not recall any victims of waterboarding complaining about weight gain, and most hunger strikers of my acquaintance have been precisely the sort of ectomorphs who should be raising awareness by running across InNeedistan or something instead of indulging in calorie deprivation. When you’re fat, seeing skinny people go on hunger strikes is really under the aegis of the Department of Insult to Injury. As is the gaining of three pounds on a hunger strike.

Okay, okay, when I took off my Thuggie I discovered that I’d actually lost four pounds (and also that Thuggies weigh seven pounds!) but still!

Given that I spent all of last year obsessively tracking my calorie input and output with the LoseIt app and averaged 1100 calories a day and did not lose a single pound, it’s quite clear that if I’m ever to get to my ideal, or even a slightly improved, shape, it’ll take actually breaking a sweat. More than once a month, too.

Speaking if ideal shape…the one in the above photo is pretty much it. Mylene Farmer is older than me, and she still has that figure. This one.

Of course, she has those legs; that helps. Unless my pal Anthony Youn comes up with a clever, painless and cheap leg-lengthening procedure, I will never have legs anywhere near that good, but mine when in shape are not to be sneezed at. Especially if you don’t cover your nose. But hey, I got a start on the look: I bought the lipstick!

The current fashion for bowlegged rickets victims is not one which meets with my approval, in case you were wondering. I’d love to know which photographer we can blame for a generation of starlets who all pose as if they were about to lose bladder control. When in doubt, blame everything on Terry Richardson.

Knock kneed hipster girl

Knock kneed hipster girl

So Mylene’s shape is not achievable for me, which is too bad not only for me but for everyone who has to look at me. My current shape is quite perogy-like, and everybody likes perogies, so that’s something, but it’s not what I want.

This is what I want.

Ginger Spice would be nice

Ginger Spice would be nice

Believe it or not, for me, this is doable. Hell, I already had the hair! This will take, if I keep on schedule (which I will not and let’s be honest about it, you wouldn’t either) about a year. So I’m giving myself two years, because I’m like that with myself and you would be too, if you treasured me the way I do.

And if I looked like that, you would, wouldn’t you?

If Perez Hilton can do it, so can I.


UPDATE 2017: Down 50 lbs. I might just make this by early 2018. Today’s a run and weights day.