In related news, Jesse is officially forgiven for writing this love note on my car:

Don’t say @DearMare didn’t warn you 😉

8 weeks, 1200 calories/day, 2 workouts/day, 42 pounds lost and $407 gained, bitches!

Ladies, you’re doing yourself a serious disservice if you think that a man can ever beat you in anything. Who cares whether or not they lose weight faster than you? Work harder, and show them that there’s nothing a man can do that a woman can’t do better, backwards and in high heels. TWICE!

I’m going to Vegas this weekend, and one of the outfits I packed was my gym clothes. What has my life come to? I’m crazy competitive, and I won’t let one weekend in Vegas ruin my #1 status in this @MindzAlike #BLC.

I will eat your babies, bitch! And I’ll lose weight doing it, too 😉

As a result of my second workout today, not only did I unlock Foursquare’s Gym Rat badge, but I also received an eyeful of some lady’s bearded clam! Yikes.

If you’re going to unleash your cat in the ladies locker room, can you at least have the decency to groom it?

So inconsiderate.

Me: they’re in for a serious rude awakening at the weigh-in tomorrow
Pammie: they’re gonna rue the day they met us bitches! rue!

Between the two of us, Pammie and I have lost over 25* pounds in this @MindzAlike #BLC so far! We don’t fuck around.

Six weeks to catch up, suckas.

*Update – 3/20/2011: 30 pounds now 😉 What a difference a two-a-day can make…

Anthony: crab hut tomorrow?
Me: i can’t 🙁 i have a weigh-in this weekend.
Anthony: let me know when this contest that appears to be ruining your life is over and we can go to crab hut. i mean, i can only go there in the company of celebs, such as those who have their pic on the wall.

The fact that I’m willing to risk my Crab Hut mayorship and dukedom alone should strike fear in the eyes of my fellow @MindzAlike #BLC participants.

Oh, Starbucks… you and your complimentary mini cupcakes can’t break me. I’ll stick to my zero calorie iced green tea with two splendas, thank you very much.

Between going to the gym at an ungodly hour, working 9-5, and circuit training with Arlene after work, I barely have enough time and energy to take a shower and do some light internet stalking before I cry myself to sleep at night out of hunger.

This pretty much sums up the next seven weeks of my life. FML.

I’m not gonna lie—my ass is pretty crucial.

My friend Rome once told me that I had an onion booty, and if he bit it, he would cry.

It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Errol: our boxing coach puts a 20 pound medicine ball on your lower back so you don’t put your butt up when you’re doing planks
Me: dude i totally put my butt up when it gets hard
Errol: that’s what she said!

I don’t want to see my colon tonight, guys.

Quote of the night.

This was me planning my exit strategy out of bed this morning.

I skipped our workout tonight for Mary’s birthday dinner, so Arlene told me to “prepare for a beat down” tomorrow. Yikes. Does carbo-loading with Hot Hot Mexican rolls from Sushi Deli 2 count as preparation?

When I’m not getting my ass handed to me by Arlene, I like to go to the gym and take turbo kickboxing classes. Or walk barefoot on shards of glass—pretty much any activity that’s less painful than working out with that crazy Mexican. I was early for kickboxing tonight, so instead of warming up on the treadmill, I played Angry Birds on my phone in the ladies locker room. This girl came in and asked me what time it was and if I was going to kickboxing. We started chatting, walked to the class together, and ended up working out next to each other. I don’t normally stay for abs at the end of class, but I didn’t want to look like a little bitch in front of my new buddy, Coleen, so I pushed through it. Afterward, she offered me her number so that we could go to classes together, and I found myself agreeing to work out with her Saturday morning. So not only do I get tortured by Arlene five times a week, I now have a gym buddy to push me at what’s supposed to be my safe haven away from Arlene! Why do Mexican girls always want to be my friend??? LOL. Ay guey.

When Arlene told me that we were going to do the “Spartacus” workout tonight, I expected there to be blood and sand.

This was worse.

I’m pretty sure Arlene tried to kill us last night.

I don’t look half this cute when I’m pounding the treadmill.

My friend, Arlene, has given birth to four kids (including twins!) in the past decade, but you’d never be able to tell by looking at her. When she offered to whip my ass into shape this past weekend, I was at my ex’s sister’s wedding, surrounded by my ex’s entire family, and taking advantage of the open bar. And maybe the mini donut vendor, too. Clearly, I was at my most vulnerable when I agreed to let her train me!

We had our first boot camp session last night, and I feel lighter already. But that might be because I threw up during our workout. Three times.

Bitch doesn’t fuck around.

Last night after work, I wanted to do nothing more than go home and veg in my chones pajamas. I must have had a stroke when I agreed to hike Torrey Pines instead with Shi. The view from the top was worth jogging the straightaway (and then some!). Afterward, we had spicy lobster rolls at RB Sushi in our gym clothes and caught up on our love lives (or lack thereof—I’ll let you guess whose was lacking).

Lit – Miserable
[audio:http://www.mayanrocks.com/blog/Lit – Miserable.mp3]

You make me come
You make me complete
You make me completely miserable

I heard this song on the way to the gym this morning, and it reminded me of high school. I’m not sure what’s more shocking—that this song came out over ten years ago, or that I went to the gym this morning?

Don’t answer that.

Two trips to the fair last week left me with fierce tan lines and an even fiercer waistline. I’m sure my special relationship with bacon last month didn’t help, either. Today’s a new day, though. I don’t have a particular goal in mind… No upcoming wedding to lose three dress sizes for. No birthday party for another ex-boyfriend… A belated attempt to wear a bathing suit in public, perhaps? (I wear my chones around anyone who will let me—is that not the same thing?) I suppose I have to do it for myself this time. Here goes nothing…

It’s officially summer, and for the 28th year in a row, I’m not ready for all this sunlight. Thankfully, I’ve moved out of my non air-conditioned apartment that I nearly melted in last year, so I won’t have any sudden urges to punch a baby in this heat. Being healthy isn’t enough motivation to lose weight for me. I entered a biggest loser competition at work last year, lost 20 pounds and won by less than 1% (suck it, Calvin!). And I did it all for just bragging rights and a celebratory croissant. I used to play Bejeweled Blitz religiously on Facebook just because whenever I’d beat someone’s score, it sent them a notification saying, “Booyah! Mayan fucking beat you, bitch.” Okay maybe it didn’t say fucking. Or bitch. Or booyah… but it still notified them, okay? Get off me. I would really like to get fit, so I need someone to compete with. And not someone like Jay who works out once a week while I’m pulling two-a-days… It can’t be that easy. But I want to start after I go to the fair this Sunday. And next Friday. And possibly next Saturday… Let’s just be safe and start this thing when the fair ends after the 4th of July.

Every night after work, I begrudgingly drag my ass to the gym. But today, I finally found my motivation. Turbo Kickboxing Instructor Mike, where have you been all my life??? It will be like that summer I took that art class in college with that hot teacher and had unusually perfect attendance that quarter 😉

Update: I just googled Mike to see what gyms he regularly teaches at since he subbed my class today, and his personal training site lists him as MARRIED (of course he is). Come to think of it, that hot art teacher from college was married, too.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure God wants me to die alone. And possibly out of shape.

I’m all about good food and good drinks with good friends, and this diet is just ruining my life. I don’t even know who I am right now. Did I really say no to Cinco de Drinko at D&B’s with Jay and his coworkers AND margaritas at Ortega’s with Shi and her coworkers this week? I think the bigger question is what’s the deal with me hanging out with my friends and their coworkers??? As a general rule, I don’t go out with the people I work with. At least not since my manager’s drunken birthday disaster of 2008. Yikes. Anyway, with only six weeks left till Chel’s wedding, I’ve been eating bird portions and hitting the gym every night in a late attempt to fit into the bridesmaid dress I purposely (and over ambitiously) ordered three sizes too small. Apparently, losing 25 pounds wasn’t enough. It would’ve been, had I lost it all in my chest. As I always say, these ladies are a blessing and a curse. This sudden spike in turbo kickboxing classes has also left me with some seriously sore stems. I have to admit, walking around like I’ve just been butt-raped has been very humbling.

I woke up at an ungodly hour this morning to attend boot camp with the girls downtown at Embarcadero Marina Park. We had a beautiful view of the marina, but I was too distracted by the sweat dripping into my eyes and the blinding pain in my legs from warming up on the stairs of the convention center. I’m definitely gonna be hurting tomorrow.

I officially have 90 days till Chel’s wedding. One dress size down, two more to go…

Do you guys want to know how to make these sit ups easier?
LOSE SOME WEIGHT!

Way harsh, Tai.

I came home from the gym this morning to this chocolate covered strawberry bouquet sent from my sister and her fiancé. I smell sabotage… sweet, sweet sabotage. I didn’t work out every day this week and pull three two-a-days to indulge in dessert—I did it so I could drink my sorrows away tonight with my single friends. My sister is so thoughtful, though 🙂 She knows how much I hate this godforsaken holiday.

I’ve been on this crazy diet and exercise regimen for the past few weeks in preparation for Chel’s wedding. I just don’t want to be scrambling to lose three dress sizes in May to fit into my bridesmaid dress. Its pleated waistline promises to hide any indiscretions (like that wing-eating contest you entered the night before or that Mexican you didn’t know was hiding in your uterus), but I thought I’d be on the safe side and pull some two-a-days at the gym. I took kickboxing and salsa dancing today. My kickboxing instructor kept yelling, “Throw those punches! Squeeze those glutes! You gotta look good for your man on Valentine’s Day!” And I’m thinking, the only man who’s gonna see me naked on Valentine’s Day is my masseur at Chiropractique! Boo whore. At least someone’s hands will be on me that day…

I have six months to find a date fit into my bridesmaid dress for Chel and Flex’s wedding. A dress that I purposely ordered three sizes too small. It’s only day one of my diet and I’m miserable. Probably from all the food I didn’t eat. And all the Coke I didn’t drink. And the migraine I’ve had since I got home from work. I’ll have to keep reminding myself that “nothing tastes as good as thin feels” whenever I get the sudden urge to sit around and eat sticks of butter from different lands. It’s gonna be a long six months.

You don’t alter Vera Wang to fit you. You alter yourself to fit Vera.

My birthday’s officially over. Thanks to everyone who called today and came out to celebrate with me over the weekend 🙂 Today, I had dinner at Onami’s with my dad, sister, Edgar and Jed. We came back to my house afterwards and made smoothies with my new Smoothie Pro600 (thanks, Pammie!). Now I can make the defunct Pineappalooza smoothie from Jamba Juice (damn seasonal drink)!!! I need to start eating healthier and actually USE the 24-Hour Fitness membership (you can’t lose weight by just SIGNING UP, though I used to be convinced that you could). I want a smokin’ body by the time summer arrives and Pineappaloozas are back in season!