Why I won't buy "health and fitness" magazines anymore

 I will look like this one day...

I used to religiously buy at least 2 or 3 health and fitness magazines a month. I would read them cover to  cover, making notes of workouts, nutrition tips and of course, supplements.

Now, I'm nowhere near to being a fitness model, personal trainer or nutritionist, but I've picked up a fair amount of knowledge along the way of training and chatting to people who are qualified and know what they're doing. And I've come to realise that most of those so-called health magazines could care less about health and more about advertising money.

Take, for example, the latest one I bought (and the last). In an advice column, a woman writes in and says the following:
a) She's in her first trimester of pregnancy
b) She's gained over 10 kgs during that time
c) She wants to know if it's safe to take CLA and green tea capsules to stop further weight gain and promote weightloss.

 The person writing back to PregnantLady doesn't:
a) Ask about her eating habits
b) Suggest she keep a food diary for a week, then
c) Cut out all processed foods (like chips,chocolates, white bread etc), and high sugar foods for a month and see what happens.

Nope, he merrily tells her "SURE! TAKE THE PILLS!"

Why do I have such a big problem with that? Because earlier in my life, I would read articles/advice columns like that, and think "Great! I don't have to change my habits at all! I can just take fat burners and I'll lose weight! YAHOO!!"

Obviously, all it did was decrease my bank balance. And some of those OTC fat burners gave me heart palpitations and feelings of anxiety and paranoia. And I ended up fatter than ever. No thanks. Weightloss is 80% what you eat, and 20% workouts.

Another thing I noticed, was that they had a little blurb about Type II diabetes, and how people need to watch what they eat and try to prevent getting diabetes. Right underneath that article, was an ad for an energy bar. Which is mostly sugar, processed carbs, caffeine, and artifical everything. Holy hypocrite, Batman! I've noticed a lot of things like that in these mags, where they write an article extolling XYZ, and on the opposite page, have an ad for a product that goes against XYZ.

Now, these magazines aren't cheap. So it irks me to find simple grammar and spelling mistakes. The kind that MS Word so helpfully picks up and underlines for you. Hell, it'll even fix it for you! Or better yet, design and layout issues - say, for example, a picture is placed above text, but they don't check it's placing, and it cuts the top half of the first sentence off. Really? You can't check little things like that?

And finally, quite a few of these fitness rags are slowly turning into Cosmopolitan. You know. They put articles like this in a gym mag:

HOW TO STUN YOUR MAN WITH 3 NEW SEX MOVES TONIGHT!!
TURN EVERY DAY FOOD ITEMS INTO SEX TOYS!!
HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR MAN BY DEVELOPING DOUBLE JOINTED LIMBS!!
MASTER HIS MAN-BITS!!

Thanks, but no thanks. I'm kinky enough to keep Asshat ExHusband happy (and exhausted), and I think if I were to approach him with a pineapple, some lingerie and a lascivious  smile, he would scream like a girl and sprint away.  Not to mention, I'm reading that magazine to get tips on how to squat better with higher weights, not figure out how to act like a porn star.

On the bright side, I'm saving a couple hundred bucks a month now.

Affection = bad

So on Sunday, EvilPickle and I went out and watched Monsters University (Spoiler alert: It's awesome, go watch it!).

Afterwards, we did a little shopping, and she was sweet enough to buy me a little something. It was terribly cute, and anyone that knows me knows I have no problem showing affection to my loved ones.

So I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a smooch on the temple. As I did that, this bitter looking old hag shot me a look so dirty that boiling bleach would not have gotten me clean.
I could almost see the words emblazoned on her face in neon "Damn lesbians! Disgusting!"

What did I do? I looked BitterHag straight in the eye, and gave EvilPickle's butt a good, solid grab after whispering to her about what was going on. Being the fabulous diva that she is, she put her arm around my waist and snuggled into me. All while BitterHag's face got more and more sour.

It's just ridiculous. What's even grosser is EvilPickle and I look like sisters to the point where complete strangers have commented on it. And frankly, who is she to give two passersby such a filthy look? Two people who love each other are allowed to hold hands, hug and kiss in public.

I love my friends, because they are awesome. And life is short, so I'm going to let them know - through funny messages, hugs, hand holding, strolling arm in arm, etc. If you have a problem with it, keep it to yourself.

Where do babies come from?

So, if you're a regular reader of my blog, you'll know that my parents are virgins*, and I was dropped down the chimney by a pterodactyl. My Dad was kind enough to share the recipe he and SWMBO (She Who Must Be Obeyed - aka Mom) used to attract the pterodactyl who delivered me:

1 leg lamb, left in the sun for 5 days

3 snoek, ditto

3 large cloves garlic, grated

I large piece ginger, grated

8 cups stock, left in the sun for 5 days

1 t salt

3 t grated pepper

When the meat starts smelling, cut into small pieces, fry briefly in old non-virgin olive oil, take one teacup of dog pee, mix well, put under a tree in the shade and add a few rotten eggs. You will have to taste it first to make sure that the taste is right, but experience will eventually help. Arrange artistically with a bright pink plastic pig next to it and wait.

So there you have it. If you feel like having a kid one day, follow the instructions above and within time, you too can have a child like me!




*Yes, I know they're not really virgins. But I really don't want to think about my parents making the beast with two backs, thanks!

Belief vs Behaviour

There's a saying I read somewhere a few years back - "Standing in a garage makes me a car about as much as going to Church makes me a Christian."

Being raised Roman Catholic, I would see people go to church, stand at the right moments, kneel at the right moments, sing all the hymns, put some coins in the collection plate and then leave. They would then drive like complete morons, or go have a good gossip, or go home and beat their wife/children - hardly the "Christian" behaviour preached in church!

Obviously, it's not just Catholics who do this, nor do all people do this. But there are people who go to their religious building of choice, listen intently to the teachings, then go home and ignore/contradict them.

Which just goes to show - your beliefs don't make you a better person, your behaviour does. You can believe in love all you want, but if you don't practice it, all you are is a hypocrite.
Heck, growing up, I was told that the Old Testament was not to be taken as seriously as the New Testament - because the OT was kind of violent (eye for an eye) and the NT was more "love thy brother" and whatnot.

But you still get people who use the OT to try and justify hating gay people. And you can't pick and choose which verses you're going to pay attention to - if you're going march around with a placard proclaiming "Leviticus 20:13", you may want to make sure that:
a) You have no tattoos or piercings (Leviticus 19:28)
b) You don't shave your sideburns (Leviticus 19:27)
c) You don't eat pork or have anything to do with pig products at all (Leviticus 11:18)
d) You don't practise the "pulling out" method of contraception (Genesis 38:9 - 10)

And this is my favourite one:
e) You are not divorced (Mark 10:8 and Mark 10:11 - 12)

You've got all these people parading around under the banner of a religion that, at it's core tries to say "Love yourself. Love the people around you. And for My sake, don't be a raging cocknugget". And they're trying to enforce their beliefs on the country in general, while displaying behaviour that is contrary to the core beliefs! If you're going to try and tell the world that they must follow your beliefs and your religion, make sure you're following it too.

Yes, I'm talking to you, you ignorant pork-sausage and bacon eating, tattooed and pierced, divorced, clean-shaven Bible-banging hypocrite.

I don't subscribe to organised religion for the main fact that people in large groups are dangerously stupid. And judgemental, and cliquey.

Not all religious people are two-faced, though. I know plenty of Wiccans and Catholics and Muslims who are really good people. And they try to treat the people around them with respect and love and tolerance - which I believe is the basis of any good religion.

So don't corner me in a party and regale me with your beliefs. I could just as easily tell you about how I believe that I can own a yacht, and an island and win multiple Grammys - doesn't mean it's actually going to happen.

You are stupid

Well, not you in particular. Maybe someone you know or are related to. We all have that person in our social circle. The undercover "*ist". They're either racist, ageist, sexist or some other kind of "ist" word that denotes some kind of discriminatory stupidity.

This person doesn't necessarily stand on a soap box in the middle of the CBD with a huge picket sign saying "*Insert population demographic here* is an abomination and should be burned alive!"
Probably because they possess enough intelligence to be dimly aware of how self preservation works.

However, they have no problem sneaking in little barbs in social conversation. You know the deal, you're standing around the braai, secretly wondering when the hell those chops are going to be ready, there's only so many chips you can eat dammit; and someone shares a story of e.g. a co-worker that did something stupid and everything's royally stuffed now. The UndercoverIst will chime in with a "Hey, was that person old/black/indian/atheist/female/fat/chinese/insert demographic here?"

Seriously? What the hell does that have to do with the story? Someone rear-ending another person on the highway has more to do with the driving conditions, whether they were paying attention to the road and such like things, and fuck-all to do with the name of the God they choose to pray to.

The UndercoverIst knows that telling a story in civilised companywhere you say "Guys, I have this story about a *insert demographic* where they *insert stupid action*. Hahahaha, typical *insert demographic/slur* idiots - we shouldn't expect anything else from them!" will get them chucked out of the house super fast. And they will probably be banned from any future gatherings - unless they're family. For some reason, because you're related to this twat, you have to endure their *ist mutterings.

My second favourite thing to do to the UndercoverIst is to call them on it. "Why, Bob, what does their skin colour/age/sex/religion/etc have to do with the story?"
It's satisfying to watch them squirm and sputter while trying to come up with a socially acceptable explanation. My super favourite thing to do, is have absolutely nothing to do with them.

Unfortunately, it took me a few years to figure that out. Previously, I would just stand there uncomfortably and try to change the subject. I remember going to a braai in my early twenties with a guy I particularly fancied the pants off of. And I made googly eyes at him and imagined him naked and was mentally dropping my panties, right up until he made a very crude racist joke.

Right there and then, my panties were up and staying up. In fact, all my clothing was staying on. Hell, I was just about in a lesbian nunnery, as far as his chances of getting anywhere with me ever at all.
And yet, I still stuck around at the braai. Because I was 20 and had no metaphorical balls. And instead of telling him "You're disgusting, don't ever try to contact me again", I just passively aggressively ignored his texts, mails and calls until he stopped.

I suppose you could say I'm ignoranusist. I cannot stand ignoranuses. Dumb asses. Willfully stupid people. People that have the resources and opportunity to educate themselves, and choose not to, and believe the most inane shit. The kind of shit that a three year old would give you a "yeah right" look for.

So I suppose I'm not invited to the UndercoverIst's next braai then?

Anti-kid

I'm not actually anti-kid. The kids of my friends are pretty darn awesome - and I'll tell you why. Their parents give a damn about discipline. They set boundaries, and enforce them.

Unfortunately, the rest of the world seems to be of the opinion that discipline will stifle little Meeshell or Jaysun's spirit. It doesn't, actually. What it does do, however, is result in adults that break the law, trample all over people and treat their parents like crap. Why should they respect their parents? They were never taught to!

I don't blame kids for being snotty little shits. When you're 6 or 7, you literally don't know better. I blame the parents. They're the ones that you hear in the supermarket, saying in a soft, monotone voice: "Chanelle, if you do that again, Mommy will punish you" over and over again. Mommy never punishes Chanelle, so what does Chanelle learn? That she can do what she wants, and there will be no consequences.

These are the same kids that get everything their greedy little hearts desire, without having to do anything for it first - like chores. I know, a kid does need a cellphone in this day and age. But why the hell would an 8 year old need a Blackberry? But Mom and Dad want William Esquire the Third to have all the things they didn't have, so they just sit and regurgitate the money for all the stupid shit he doesn't need. The result? William never learns to value things. He knows if he throws his Blackberry in the pool when he fights with his friend, his parents will buy him another one.

These kids grow up into adults that don't want to work for anything. They believe that they are entitled to the Ferrari/Mansion lifestyle within minutes of graduating. These are the ones that jump queues, knock over old ladies, jump stop streets and red robots. These are the ones that drive drunk. These are the ones that pay off credit cards with other credit cards, again and again and again. Because they want what they want NOW. Why should they work and save up for that big screen TV when they can buy it now and "pay" for it later?

And of course, their parents sit in despair, wondering why their dear little Suzie is fired from her 17th job at the age of 23. And wondering why their beloved little Francois is in jail for assaulting an off-duty police officer. And wondering why their wonderful little Shane is being sued by a grocery chain for taking a poop in the baby food aisle.

"Why are they like this?" they exclaim. "Our children are little shits!" they cry.

It's your fault. And unfortunately, the world has to deal with the fruit of your crotch. Because when you don't raise them right, they're not children. They're crotch-droppings. You don't have to spank them. It's not necessary. But you can give them time-outs, take away privileges, make them do chores and their homework. And if you say you're going to punish them if they "do that one more time!", follow through with it.

I was raised with discipline. I turned out just fine...


*twitch*

Such a taboo

Seriously - out of all the bodily functions, I think men have a bigger problem with periods, and the associated paraphernalia that goes with them, than anything else.

They'll happily guffaw at fart jokes, poop jokes, pee jokes, boob jokes, penis jokes, pussy jokes, but omigawd, mention the P or M or T word, and an uncomfortable silence settles in the immediate area. Seriously? You'll happily video tape your buddy projectile vomiting into the pool, but you won't buy your girlfriend tampons? I still remember boys at high school freaking out when a girl took a pad (with wings!) out of her bag to give to a friend.

I promise, we're not gross or unclean when menstruating. You won't shrivel up and die if you touch us during that time. It's not like opening the Ark. You should be glad, actually - it's confirmation that you're not going to be responsible for a whole other person for at least two decades.

"But she's so grumpy and touchy and bitchy" you say. Well, for the first couple of days, I think she has a right to be a little grumpy. Just imagine that little dude from Kid Rock's "band" has taken up residence in your midsection, and is practising karate. Wearing spiky shoes. Covered in cayenne pepper.

But then again, unless she has a severe hormone issue, that doesn't give her the right to rip your head off when you timidly offer her some peppermint tea because "OMIGAWD I HATE PEPPERMINT TEA IF YOU LOVED ME YOU'D KNOW I WANT CHAMOMILE!!!" I can't stand women who do that. It's only human to be a little snappy, but don't cock the sawn-off shotgun because he didn't immediately notice your new shoes.

Maybe I'm just desensitized because I was raised in a medical household, but I have no problem telling Asshat Ex Husband "Honey! Guess what! Yay, I'm not pregnant! Damn these cramps are awkward". We discuss birth control, take it in turns buying condoms, so why not let him know that I'm on my period? Ok, I've never sent him to buy tampons, mostly because:
a) I generally plan ahead and don't run out, and
b) he would probably buy the wrong brand anyway.

On a personal note, I think that having monthly periods is a bit of overkill. If you consider the fact that most girls start it around 9 or 10, and the average age of menopause is around 51, that's about 40 years of menstruating. Assume that she has 2 kids, so that's 2 years off periods, yay! So 38 years of menses - which is roughly 450 periods, give or take variations in her cycle. The average amount of blood lost in Jane Doe's period is about 40 mls. Which means I can look forward to losing a total of 18 liters of blood through my vagina - Yay!

Seriously, talk about overkill.

"No" is a dirty word

In today's society, saying no is a dirty word. Never mind all the magazine articles that proclaim "Saying No is Healthy!" "How to say No with a clear conscience" - if you actually do say "No", you're some kind of pariah.

Saying "No" at work, even if you already have enough work for 2 people, means you're not a team player. It's not enough that you eat lunch at your desk, arrive early, leave late and take work home over the weekend. You need to sacrifice your sleep as well.

Saying "No" to friends is almost a slap in the face. What? You dare to have plans of your own? Why would you want to spend a night in with your family when you could be slamming down tequila shots with me? Spending time with your kids is not that important, you need to come out to dinner with me!

Saying "No" to customers pretty much guarantees you a special place in Hell, right next to the people who flick lit cigarette butts out of their cars onto bone-dry fields. The customer pays you, so you need to just make sure you're available all the time any time.

Saying "No" to family - well, you ought to just burst into flames right then and there. It doesn't matter that you're a full grown adult, if your unreasonable family member wants you to do something that inconveniences you, you have to do it.

That's bullshit. What complete and utter arse-gravy. There is nothing wrong with saying no. If you don't feel like doing something, especially for someone has done nothing but prove they are toxic, then don't do it. And you also don't need to justify it. A simple "That is not possible" will cover all the bases.

Anyone who doesn't have their head up their ass will understand a reasonable "No".

Stuff I learned from my sister

My sister was one of the most amazing people I ever knew. And that's not bias speaking, that's absolute truth.

She was born with Rett Syndrome - and it was pretty severe. She couldn't walk, talk, dress herself, feed herself - she was completely dependent.

And yet, Liezl always had a smile. She was always looking about with an air of curiousity, intrigue and delight.

She taught me to find the good in pretty much every situation. I learned to be grateful for my functioning limbs. I try and walk everywhere as much as I can, because I know she would have if she could.

We had a lot in common, Liezl and I. We both loved (adored!!) chocolate, and cartoons. In winter, our hands and feet were always cold.

I eventually learned to appreciate the small things as much as the big things. Heck, sometimes the small things are more important than the big things.

Love you, Liezl...