"Everything huuuuurts."

Between the nightly orders of cheese fries and the daily “I’m too tired/busy/stressed/wrapped up in this Friends marathon to go to the gym” you’ve let yourself go. And based on how much work it takes to get those bootcuts over your thighs, it’s all beginning to catch up with you.  So when Sunday night rolls around you put your (chubby) foot down and decide it’s time to get back in gear.

You eat a salad for dinner (with the dressing on the side), enjoy some Smart Pop Kettle Korn for a late-night study snack and set your alarm for a pre-class workout. “You’re gonna get up this time,” you tell yourself before you crawl into bed.

You shoot out of bed when Pitbull starts “singing” in your ear at 7am. You slip into the workout clothes you laid out the night before, brush your teeth and run out of the house before your brain has a chance to realize what is going on and lures you back to your warm, cozy bed. You’re still slightly out of it when you get to the gym, but 10 minutes into your elliptical session you’re awake, alert and ready for a serious workout.

You start with 30 minutes on the elliptical, rotating incline and resistance. You work up a pretty good sweat but decide to switch to the Stairmaster for a little more gluteal attention. Twenty minutes later you move to the weight room. You don’t want those big, beefy guys to think you’re some prissy little girl so you pick up some weights and start working.  3 sets of 15 reps of triceps, biceps, chest presses and lunges later, you’re soaked in sweat and feeling great.

Those workout endorphins have kicked in and you’re walking around, Britney Spears blasting into your earbuds, wondering why you aren’t doing this more often. You’re energized and productive for the rest of the day – going to class, doing your laundry, getting ahead on that reading for Wednesday. You even pass on the leftover mac and cheese your roommate made for dinner. You’re back on track and nothing is going to stop you. Read More »

Now, I’m usually pretty skeptical about any news I see on the Daily Mail. It’s kind of like the internet’s version of the NY Post. The articles have some basis, usually, but they’re stretched like that last little bit of ice cream in a mostly empty pint container. Still, when I saw an article that told me that something that’s been a problem of mine for years is all in my head, I was not pleased.

I’ve had back pain since a little into puberty. Friends and relatives know that one of the biggest (pun intended) issues I have is the size of my breasts. They’re huge – and I do not mean DD huge, I mean F. Yes, there is actually an F, and that is what I am. Mind you, I’ll be getting a reduction at some point this year. But needless to say, I have back problems. My mother has back problems too, and so did my dad. It runs in the family, and it sucks, but it’s something we have to all deal with. And when I say we, I mean everyone; at least 80% of people have back problems.

But according to a recent study, only 15% of the people who complain of back pain are actually in pain. They seem to somehow come to the conclusion that the brain tricks the body into thinking it’s in pain, when it really isn’t. Read More »