Why I get jealous of my boyfriend

Picture this… you’ve been marinating strips of beef for a day now in a mixture of soya sauce, sesame oil, brown sugar, garlic and ginger. While you start sizzling the meat in the wok, your broccoli is being steamed in a nearby pot. Your pasta is just about ready too as all the delicious aromas waft around your kitchen.

The meal comes together harmoniously and you ready yourself to plate the dishes for you and your 6’7 boyfriend… then you immediately feel the surge of jealousy that has been plaguing you at every meal time. He gets SO MUCH MORE FOOD THAT YOU.


I’m talking my all-time faves too – my mom’s curried chicken, scalloped potatoes, turkey dinners, lasagna…So much delicious, lovingly prepared, amazing food goes onto his plate while you get a measly ½ cup of pasta, 3 oz of meat… and the same amount of broccoli as him… but WHO CARES about that ruffage. * cue tantrum worthy of a 4-year-old trying to convince mom get fruit loops in aisle 3 of Super C *

Like most flabletes, I only care about what my taste buds want and that is all the savoury goodness of meat and carbs. They say that fear is one of the most (if not THE most) powerful motivator and adrenaline born from fear etches those memories into your brain forever. Honestly, the endorphins released from savoring a perfectly layered Skor trifle have given my fear hormones a run for their money. So, this led me to formulate my hypothesis that my taste buds were in control of my food intake, because of SCIENCE – and I am obviously a scientist since I used words like endorphins and adrenaline, so you can DEFINETELY trust everything I am spewing out here 🙄.

K – so what I do actually know, is that I formed some rather unhealthy eating patterns, not just because of what I ate but how much of it I would consume. Before our trip to the nutritionist, this was not a problem that was truly on my radar. Namely, because I would load up my plate with the same amount of food as on Taylor’s as pretended it was okay. I knew it was too much food at the time since my belly would be too full after every meal and I was lethargic. This poor portion control combined with the studying stress eating and rewarding weekend drinks were definite contributors to my 15 lbs weight gain.

Since the appointment, I’ve been more conscientious of portion sizes and I’ve recently redoubled my efforts since completing my MBA (so MUCH free time on my hands, man). I’m often eating on a smaller plate, measuring my portions when needed and silently dying inside as I watch Tay eat all the food I once did. I still trip up now and then (read: pudding is too good to avoid, or that roll of bread at a restaurant before a meal with melty butter…. drool), but forming a habit takes time and incremental changes. I’m going to celebrate my small victories for now and hope they snowball into bigger ones.  Happy for all advice you fellow flabletes might have to help me get that victory snowball clumpin’ or whatever they do to get bigger.

Bon apple-teeth folks

Dear Chin-ups,

From the moment
I stopped exhaling
And had to frog-kick my legs
to get one extra inch
Up over that bar
I knew one thing was real:

I fell in love(hate) with you.

Andddddddddd that’s about as much Black Mamba that I will plagiarize for now.

So, is it just me or do we all have that one effing exercise we just cannot master. And we think to ourselves…. Youuuuu B$TCH. I WILL BRING YOU TO YOUR KNEES AND YOU WILL BOW TO MY WILL. Then one day it just clicks and you wonder why you were yelling so much and now need a Fisherman’s friend.

For me, that exercise was chin-ups. Sure, rookie year in Uni, EVERYTHING (yelling again) was daunting. A bench-press bar that was donned with feather weights fell from my outstretched arms onto my chest for cripes sake. Hang-cleans sounded like something you did with a harness and a mop and a push-jerk was what you did when a boy was mean to your bestie. However, after a hard year of work, I was making gains on those exercises, bruh. Sick gains.

But not chin-ups. No sir-ee. Liz (if you don’t know who Liz is yet, please read this bad boy) – Liz had this annoying – read: worth while, amazing, smart – rule that you had to start your chin-ups from a hang. Like…full arm extension, feet hovering, dead hang.

At the end of year one, every fiber of my being would will me to lift myself out of said-hang… yet I would still just swing there. Frustrated. Sweaty. Sore from this frustrating isometric routine I had going.

Over the next few years, I had friends who would get a better biceps workout than my lats were getting as they hoisted me up during a ‘chin-up’. A chin-up assisting elastic band was helpful at first until one snapped straight up onto my rump and I had a welt for a week. I did negative chin-ups (jump up so your chin is over the bar and then gradually release back down to full arm extension over 10 seconds) til I was blue in the face and still… that initial lift off… URGH.

Then one day… poof. Like a 90s Pringles ad – once you pop, you can’t stop. I think I cranked out three that first day. Considering I was described by my coach as a ‘big bodied defenseman’, this was no small feat… and yet. CHIN UPS WERE MY BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH! YES.

By the end of year 5, I could do 8 of those suckers from a dead hang – though my last reps always did include a frog kick or two (woops).

So now you’re thinking… cool story Meghan. Well. It does not end there, flabletes.

5 years chin-up free and guess who is back where she started rookie year. She has 2 thumbs and weak lats – that’s right. This girl.

Not for much longer though. For the past couple of weeks now, myself and a few former Stingers have gotten together to workout in a park near our mutual place of employment. A park with a chin-up bar (or a jungle gym for little Billy. Whatever, the kid can wait).

So, Gabrielle can thank me advance for the great biceps workout she will get while I journey back to the land of chin-ups, but I am committed now more than ever to get back to where I was. Even if it means a bunch of negative chin-ups and the return of calloused palms.

hands blog.jpg

And we both know, no matter what I do next
I’ll always be that girl
With the frog kicks
Sweat on my brow
:05 seconds on the clock
Bar in my hands.
5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1

Love you always,

(just kidding, still Meghan 🏀)

Melissa’s Story: Be kind to yourself

Happy FriYAY flabletes – I hope everyone had a great week.

So, if you read my last post ‘Nama-stay-on-my-couch and watch Netflix (no more)‘; you knew that I had set the goal for myself to attend a yoga class this week. Well guess what… I didn’t.

I had class on Monday, Thursday and tonight… Tuesday was impromptu bridesmaid dress shopping session and group work and Wednesday I stayed late in the office and needed a night off (dare I say deserved a night off?). Anyway, I was feeling like caca💩 about myself and confided in my friend and MBA cohort, Melissa. Lo and behold, she was familiar with the feeling too and had some very sound advice.  Be kind to yourself.

Smart lady, right? Read more about her story and approach here

Catherine’s Story: A dance with Ronald

Hi flabletes – my friend and former workout buddy has written a new post for our enjoyment! She asks herself some pretty tough questions, discusses turning 30 in just a few short weeks and what is really important to her! Oh, and she dishes on her love for those golden arches. Check out her post here 🙂

Bryan’s story: motivation is key

A good friend of mine has graciously agreed to share his post-football flabletic story with us. Throughout our varsity years, Bryan could not only successfully recruit the entire complex for a karaoke night at the local watering hole, but he was also a strong competitor on the field – between grueling recoveries from two tough knee injuries.

Read his story here for insights on what motivates him now.