In the last month there have been approximately 3 million things on my plate. In no way am I saying that those 3 million things are not on everyone else’s plate or that my plate is especially awful. But when they began avalanching over my lifeless body, dealing with them became near impossible. At least without
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When I was in undergrad, I was an Advertising and PR major. Yes it’s super easy, yes it’s super clicky, yes it’s super fascinating. Aside from learning how to manipulate the consumer we would discuss concepts that would be relatable to the industry and our careers. One concept that always stuck out to me was
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The other night at my cardio kickboxing class, the instructor ended the night by lightly lecturing us not to replenish our sweaty selves with Taco Bell. I’m not exactly sure where Rico Suave is from but he’s hispanic and has an accent that makes almost everything sound tantilizing. What I did decipher is that he doesn’t understand
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I was reading Self magazine the other day, the one celebrating Demi Lovato’s blonde hair and sobriety, when I came across a “celeb diet secrets.” The article detailed different health tips given by Kelly Ripa, Pink, Jennifer Aniston and a few other sculpted ladies of Tinsletown. Each woman had a tip but Self magazine insisted
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Now that I am back in school my stress levels have increased to somewhat toxic levels. With school smooshed on top of a normal work day plus gym time that I desperately need, some weeks I get so overwhelmed I’m on the verge of Hulking out on innocent bystanders. Oddly enough, the most recent chapter in my
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It’s official. I fell off of the bandwagon. The incredibly motivated, healthy, disciplined bandwagon of life. The blog has stopped, my eating habits are horrid and inconsistent and my gym schedule is less than regular. What makes this worse is that I am 4 weeks shy of completing the Live Fit Trainer program I started
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Officially, the Housewife Hunks will be moving to Wednesdays. I found it more appropriate to post them on Hump Day. There are a lot of suggestions out there for women who are struggling with PMS or bitchtacular week-o-misery, and how to cope easier during that treacherous time. Guys, if you don’t care to read on then
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No, a wrestler didn’t body slam me in Miami and hold me hostage until now. I have officially made it through the most exhausting weekend of all time and back to slave labor working in a cubicle. I spent last weekend in Miami’s heat, walking, gawking and doing all things Wrestlemania. For those of you not already versed
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