I’m 5′8", I weigh 145 pounds, own my own personal training gym, and work out intensely 5-6 times a week.  I lift weights, I do cardio, sports specific training, plymetrics, just started using kettle bells, there is really and ENDLESS list of things I do in the gym.  It’s called muscle confusion.  That’s what works.  That’s what keeps our bodies progressing toward goal after goal after goal.  Besides that indoor preparation and sculpting stuff, I hike, mountain bike, snowboard like crazy, wakeboard, wakesurf, and try anything new that can possibly take place outside.  My possibilities are endless indoors and outdoors.  Because of all this, I have been given the nickname "MAndrea."  It does not offend me; in fact, I actually kind of like it.  But these silly magazine advertisements make outsiders looking in believe that this image is the goal I am striving for.  Which is evident with the name I was given.  No, not all girls that work out end up looking like men, not all want to.  Yes, some do, but I am quite happy with my gender and do not plan on tampering with that.  I will; however, continue keeping myself young by being active.  I LOVE WORKING OUT, AND I LOVE DIETING FOR IT. 

I love my body.  I love to use it.  I love that I am in control of what kind of conditioning it has and how it looks.  No, I am not at war with the gym, nor do I plan on beginning or participating in any battles with it using some synthetic powder as my weapon.  Especially one that doesn’t even work.  I am 24, and forever will I be very traditional in my training.  Whey protein and creatine is all the supplements I need, and really, what I believe all anybody needs.  The media has produced this ideal of what a fit person looks like.  The professionals are all over the magazines, and yes, I do respect a FEW of them.  But the images and the books that got my fire going were not in Flex magazine or any others like it.  It was in college during my Exercise and Sport Science degree, in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Encyclopedia of Bodybuildling (that contains all the old school aestheticly beautiful bodybuilders, not the apes of our time), and also in Oxygen Magazine.   

A few of the people I highly respect are Jamie Eason, Monica Brant Peckham, and Arnold Schwarzenegger.  They don’t look like gender-confused women, or like species-confused gorillas.  Yes, Arnold is Massive, but hey, he’s the pinnacle of bodybuilding.  Look at his waist, no distended-belly going on there.  His body is beautifully porportional.  His front double bicep pose a creates lovely-looking heart from his pecs, to his delts, and back down to his pecs. He didn’t pump himself so full of substances to see just how far he could take his body without giving himself a heart attack.  He put in a blood, he put in passion, he put in sweat.  And yes, those women, and many others, are more lean and muscular than my wildest dreams, but still maintain their femininity.  They keep me pushing myself each and every day I am feeling less motivated.  If they can do it, maybe so can I.  However, they do not make me want to cheat, yes, CHEEEEEEAAAAT, to get to a certain level.  We are all so different genetically.  We all have our very own personal best.  The only thing we can do is constantly do our research, continually train our easily adaptive bodies, and get ourselves to the best that WE can be; get ourselves feeling the best WE can feel.  Lay off thinking these magazines that hold images of what they try to make us think we could and should look like.  Remember, these pages really only a tertiary resource of information.  Order a journal, buy and read the information in a reliable text.  You’re already on this site, use it.  I come on this site ALL the time of exercise and diet advice.  

With information constanly flowing into my brain from scientifically backed resources, with swapping tactics amongst others on this site and in person, and with my newly recharged endeavor to get myself healthily to the next level, I guess I have created my armour.  This is my shield from the magazine advertisements that make working out and proper nutrition seem masculine and brainless.  And also from the people who really really wish when hearing you’re on a strict diet and training regimen, that they too could have the heart and the motivation to do it.  Unfortunately, these ads make them think they will sustain undesired side-effects, and give them great ammo when coming up with arguements against doing it.              

And another thing I have been dwelling on:  F*@k you yahoo!!  Why did that just turn my expletive blue??  Oh well, it gives it a nice emphasis.  I was scanning the useless news on my yahoo to find that whoever "they" are believe that skipping your morning jo will allow you to maintain better energy throughout the day.  I’m sorry, but that is not why I drink coffee.  The nice jolt is a bonus, sure, but the joys of that black beverage extend far past that of a shot of  buzz.  It brings me comfort, it brings a smile of my face.  Just wrapping my fingers around that cardboard cup make the tips of my digits dance.  My whole body tingles upon my first sip as it warms my mouth, my throat, and my stomach.  With a splash of milk (or cream depending on my mood) and a packet of splenda (which may or may not be slowly killing me) is my flavor is choice.  8 ounces is all I need; and I have ditched the peanut butter and ice cream, which comfort nearly the same, and I end up consuming fewer calories.  Morning, noon, night, I don’t care when I get it, but I’m gettin it in one or more of those time frames.  So, yahoo!, kick the "energy zapping" bit, and let me drink me coffee.  It is my only saving grace in this 12 weeks.

Another gripe, screw you oatmeal.  Screw you hard.  I’m throwing that cylinrical tube out the door and buying a box of Kashi cereal and some soy milk.  If I’m going to get my whole grain, high-fiber breakfast in twice a week, damnit I’m going to like it.  And damnit, I’m sticking it at about 12-4 in the afternoon.  Getting that at 6:30 in the morning leaves me feeling like shit all day, so I’m DONE.  I feel better on days when I have a high-protein breakfast and NO oatmeal at all during the day, then on the days that I have it as my first meal.  Besides, protein is really a better way to break my fast and heat up my metabolism, literally.  Sticking that meal in the afternoon seemed to help keep up my energy for my evening shift or night-time socializing.  Which after all, if I am dieting this strictly to get leaner, I need to have the energy to show it off at night.        

It took me 2 weeks and 2 days to finally get the hang of this shit.  I say "shit" because that is how I truly felt about this new venture.  The severe lack of Blue Bunny and 4 pieces of bread in my daily diet had me feeling like I was on a recreational amount of a muscle-relaxer-and-pain-killer cocktail.  But at this point, that initial and overwhelming shock that I put my body through has turned into a superfluous amount of exhuberance toward the simplist task of showering.  Life is grand.  Now, it ain’t all sunshine and rainbows all the time, but my body seems to be liking this clean, raw food thing.  The 2 weeks of prior suffering has made my new-found energy even more of a blessing.  When energy is gone for even a short amount of time, it seems as if I forget what it is like to be able to jog a mile, or walk up a flight of stairs.  All memory is tossed to the wayside.  Before yesterday I was a miserable blob.  A useless member of society.  I am finally feeling human again, and have more empathy for those who do not have the discipline to shed pounds.  It is nothing but a mental, (and at times, a growling gastric) challenge.  You have to really really want it, and I mean REALLY want it to make the right changes…and having the right flavors sure doesn’t hurt.

A can of tuna with celery, ground turkey with tomato and onion, beans, brussel sprouts, and rolled oats.  B-O-R-I-N-G.  I had all the right intentions coming into this challenge.  Chicken breast with broccoli here, salmon with a butternut squash there.  I came from a lifetime of putting cheese and sauces on EVERYTHING.  Name a cheese, and I like it; in fact, I lOVE it.  Well people, there are more flavors in life than creamy, buttery, sharp and mild. I am speaking about the barrage of cheeses that obstruct me from going down the healthier isles every time I step into the grocery store.  I had to change my mind set; I had to offer my palate some variety.  So far, it has liked it.  Cinnamon, chile pepper, garlic, basil (another love affair of mine), thyme (yet another mate to my tongue), and many others separately or mixed together in one explosive medley of flavor!  I am a creative person in many other aspects of my life, why not in the kitchen?  It may not be on the menu of the Paris Bistro or the Metropolitan, but I fancy my mixtures much more than the usual salt, pepper, and butter combination.  For instance:  I had a turkey burger with tomato and onion on my menu.  Intended to be raw.  Instead, I browned the onions, threw in some garlic, chile pepper, and tossed in the tomatoes.  I cooked the ground turkey with some egg whites in bite-sized pieces and threw this homemade sort of salsa concoction on top.  Much better than what I intended on eating before actually tasting that heinous dish.  I tried it once, and it was a HUGE mistake.  In fact, that meal should be a crime.  That is when I discovered the beauty in spices and herbs.  So readers, I have one hint:  BE CREATIVE or FAIL.  I swear to you, if you hate what you are eating, how are you going to maintain sanity for 12 weeks if you are swallowing food whole every 2-3 hours?  Eating is supposed to be pleasurable, not just for survival.  Why else would our bodies secrete the happy:) hormone after eating.  Just like sex, it was created to gratify our ever-starving mind and soul for dopamine.  So, people, don’t deprive yourself, you need to pleasure yourself!!!  And food can be just that ticket when your hand gets too tired:))  If dopamine can trigger addiction, what a better addiction than a clean diet full of tasty herbs and spices?  You make the decision.  I’m going with the basil.  And with the occasional side of cheese.          

I’m not going to chart out exactly what I’ve been eating in ANY of these posts.  That is far too tedious of a task than I feel like putting my effort into.  That I can blame on the lack of carbs:)  I was what you could call a physically-dependent carb-a-holic before this point.  Making the switch to a much lower carbohydrate diet was, and still is, one of the hardest adventures I have ever taken.  As a disclaimer, I DO NOT AGREE WITH LOW-CARB DIETS.  I love my brain, I love to write (obviously), and I love my constant creativity in all areas of my life.  My brain needs carbs, plain and simple.  Of course my body needs them, but I am so focused on constantly thinking, and creating that I need my carbs.  I am also super active, and so is my job.  I need to fuel myself.  So, a low-carb is not for me.  Just the right kinds of carbs.  A variety of carbs.  Out with the white bread pizza that will only just drops me in the end!  Ha!  Sounds like my last boyfriend.  So delicious, but only good in small doses.     

With that said, (not the boyfriend comment) this is a LOWER carb diet than what I was doing, not zero or low carb.  I was eating far too many carbs to get to my desired body fat percentage.  I’m still eating oatmeal, I’m eating sweet potatoes, fruit, many vegetables, whole wheat bread, and even chocolate.  I just had to learn the meaning of the age-old phrase "everything in moderation."  I could live and be perfectly happy eating only cereal, bread, and all things starchy and delicious.  Other than the fact that it would keep my weight up higher; it would keep me away from getting other nutrients that I would be depriving myself of.  By only feeding my brain a gratuitous amount of glucose.  And let’s not forget that alcohol is made from grain, and in some cases potatoes.  And I get PLENTY of that.  Too much glucose=fat, to put it simply.  Your body stores what you don’t use.  And I am apparently not using all of my empty-calorie, white bread carbs.  

Vegetables are a carbohydrate.  Packed with fiber.  Fiber is a carbohydrate.  I didn’t really eat vegetables before this.  My mother had to count my green beans to my age as I was growing up…even up to the point I was 20 before I left the house.  I even had the fantastic idea to throw my uneaten vegetables in the pantry "for Alf to eat."  Which ended up quite sour, as my mother had to watch my consumption much more closely after she found the black turds on the floor.

Vegetables.  I think they’re gross.  I think they’re reprehensible.  I think they should be bad for me so I don’t have to eat them.  But alas, they are those must-eat super foods.  Packed with nutrients so densely to the brim that I have NO excuse to not eat them.  I hate every chew, every carress of their green skin across my vegetable-sensitive tongue; but now I switch variety up so much that I have no time to complain.  Plus, the prospect of having a square of 72% cocoa "Dark Chocolate with Deep Forest Mint" reward once a day puts everything into perspective.  Do well, get rewarded.  Who said you couldn’t teach an old dog with VERY bad vegetable habits new tricks.   

Now, let’s prentend, you, the potential reader of this, are a priest.  We are divided by that screen where I confess my most awful of sins.  Got the image in your mind?  Good.  Now, father, I have a confession.  I drank saki on Friday.  I had every intention of stopping that habit for 3 months, but failed in the first week.  I have decided however, not to let this get me down, father.  I was drinking, binge-drinking, 3 days a week.  This is an improvement.  I am taking the "What About Bob" idea of baby steps, and incorporating that into my plan.  I can’t go from black to white.  I’ve got to travel from the black area down the grey path to get to the white.  I’ll make it, but it’s going to take a while.  Believe me, it’s a LONG walk.  So please be patient with me, and realize that I am trying. 

Phew, got it off my chest.  Nobody’s fitness is perfect.  We all need our escapes, our "rock" as one of my trainers said to me today, to keep us sane; to keep us motivated.  Just like with my chocolate, we need to give ourselves a break once in a while.  To have a release without guilt, to excite us for the following day of perfection, and that next cheat day that we have scheduled to come.  Not only is it for our sanity, but the actual shock of this suprising addition, and extra calories kicks our metabolism back into first gear.  So as I’m trying to slow this alcohol consumption down, I am going to keep positive and realize that a couple drinks will not hurt my waistline, my liver, or my journey for a better me.     

I own a personal training gym.  It isn’t your usual place to go work-out.  It is a nearly 4,000 square-foot building filled with beautiful Hammer Strength and Life Fitness equipment.  It has everything that 24-hour fitness, and what all those other awful meat market hell holes have to offer, but without going under the guise of a "gym."  This is actually a iron-clanking, sweat-dripping, no-fuss get-in-and-get-out gym.  Where vibration boards and all those other insults to exercise have NO place.  This is where I get my sweat on, and where I have taken my passion into a money-making realm.  Now, I’m not living on easy street.  The overhead on this place is INCREDIBLE.  But I am the happiest a 24-year old could ever dream of being. 

Now back on track.  I have a large number of clients.  They all are hard core clients when I have them in these walls.  However, when they leave, they seem to discard all I tell them and eat and drink their hard work away.  I do exactly the same thing, so I have absolutely no room to reprimand them or to judge them.  This is when my little competion scheme started brewing.  I want to lean out, I want my clients to get themselves on a lifestyle-changing diet.  How do I do this??  Make it a competition.  Of course I needed to have motivation for the win, so I did just that.  I decided to offer these folks a good-sized gift certificate to the running store down the street from my gym, and give it to the top person who beats ME in percent of body fat lost.  Not lowest percentage in general, just their personal percent loss.  It’s a kind of beat the dealer sort of set up.  If you don’t beat me, you’ve gotta rack up some miles on that treadmill to sweat off that beer you just couldn’t set down! 

Now that I mention beer, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.  If you know me AT ALL, it isn’t a secret in the least.  I love partying.  I love alcohol.  I make my work schedule around my social life, and in turn, my drinking life.  Now don’t get this wrong, I look pretty damn good.  Remember?  I own a gym.  I have to look good.  But a girl has got to have a good time.  Even if she does own her own business.  Vodka, yes straight vodka, or straight whiskey is my answer to keeping a thin waistline.  Oh, I love whiskey.  Oh, I love body shots, beer bongs, and giant pizza’s at 2 in the morning.  But damn, do I hate that it keeps me at 17.3% body fat.  So, I am sacrificing my social life, my drinking life, and also my beloved feta cheese.  If I can do it, ANYONE can.  Bring on the competition!  So it is January 5, 2009.  The day the liquor stores saw a massive drop in Absolut and Jimmy Beam sales.  This is the day my life went into a complete upheaval.  Liver, you better thank me.