The Anxiety of Noon

Alright, so I should preface things this way. I have one HUGE fear in my life: that being the fear of being late. This was ingrained in me at a very young age, and has stuck with me- regardless of how much I've tried to rid myself of it. My parents have always lived by the belief that one must figure out how long travel time is to a destination, and tack on an extra half hour of leeway time- in case of unforeseen problems (traffic, etc). It seems incredibly sensible at first thought; but believe me, there's a downside. I was always the FIRST kid to arrive at birthday parties: which was good at the time, because I could scarf down all the snacks set out before the other kids got their crusty mitts all over them. But I was also always early to school, choir practice, doctor's appointments, and the dinner table (the former may have been a personal choice).

That said, today I woke up at 7:30am -as my body is predisposed to even being early for my alarm clock. Knowing that I still had a good hour and a half before the clock would chime it's romantic alarm buzz, I decided to fall back asleep. Fast forward to me waking up to silence, and calmly glancing at my alarm clock beside my bed. To my dismay- it read 12:03PM (I was to be at work for 11AM). You can imagine the pang of distress as my feet thumped the floor, and I scurried around my apartment to grab my phone. The entire time, internal dialogue in my head is screaming "YOU'RE SO FIRED". I dialed my restaurant, and conveniently the newly hired hostess answered - and put me on hold for what seemed like a decade before I was able to speak with a manager. Finally, the general manager answered, and I explained my situation in a manner that resembled most people's reactions to 9/11. He then asked me what time I was supposed to be at work- to which I replied "11AM". At that point, there was a long silence, and my manager replied, "Cory, slow down, catch your breath, and make yourself a coffee.. it's 8:59"- this was followed by hysterical laughter at my expense. Turns out, I woke up a second time too early for my faithful alarm clock- and somehow had been looking at the secondary alarm settings which read "12:02PM". 30 seconds after hanging up, my alarm clock went off.

I'm going to chock up this experience to lack of nutrients to the brain due to a restrictive diet. With that in mind, I ate a piece of whole grain toast this morning: I figured I deserved it.

New Layouts and Panic Stricken Awakening

Morning Skinabees!
So, as you may have noticed, things look a lot nicer around here, thanks my tom foolery efforts of boredom yesterday!

This morning I woke in an EXTREME state of panic- and have a whole story to tell you about later on today- you're going to laugh like a person who mistakenly got their voice box replaced with that of a hyena's.

More on that after the work day!

Broken Promises, and My Mother's Crushed Dreams

Hey All,
Long time no see! For those of you who have been checking back here, and looking for new posts- I want to thank you so much for your loyalty! I'm going to give you all an update on my skinabee life over the past few days, and a half ass explanation as to why I've disappeared like a Spice Girl about to embark upon a world tour (that's a shout out to you, Ginger).

So first thing's first- I've lost TEN POUNDS in 2 WEEKS! It's been trying at times, and I'm not going lie to you and say I didn't cheat. I'm human (or atleast I pretend to be). There were a couple days when the pizza place near my house was serenading me with promises of bountiful taste sensations, and regret-free eating- and I gave in. Much to my dismay, the slices I consumed were neither regret-free nor taste sensations. You see, the place I go to: cleverly called "Tony and Nick's" is a shady hole in the wall pizza joint- which also specializes in veal sandwiches and hamburgers. Normally when I go, there's a pleasant slightly over the hill woman with a Farrah Fawcett hairstyle that refuses to coincide with her head movements due to the massive amount of
"The Dry Look" she most undoubtbly doses her mane with each and every day. However, lately when I've gone in- it's been Farrah's day off. Instead, I am greeted by a man with enough chest hair to compile a fine persian rug. Now, I'm not sure if this man is either "Nick" or "Tony", but I am sure of one thing- if it indeed IS "Nick" or "Tony", they are in no shape to be owning a restaurant. So far in the 2 times I've encountered Harry and The Henderson- I've had the pleasure of seeing him smoke while slapping my pizza slice in the oven, and had a peek at his shapely physique while changing for his shift (all in the kitchen area, I might add). You'd think that those 2 things alone would stop me from taking the risk of biting into my forbidden pizza pie, but no.. one thing about us fat kids is: if we get food in our plump filangies- you best consider it consumed. That said, I think I'm now finally done with Tony and Nick for quite sometime- or atleast until Farrah is back in the picture.

Now, as for the explanation for my absence. I live in an "eclectic" building on the west side of Toronto. I have a bachelor apartment, which means I can literally see my kitchen sink from my bed (which has it's disadvantages). Anyway, when I moved in last December, I was promised an internet connection as part of the $700 a month rent agreement. Well, in March- that agreement was finally honoured (for 2 weeks).. upon which point, the internet disappeared. After much questioning, and persistance, I have yet to receive an explanation for the shady world wide web connection- but after some vigourous Nancy Drew detective work: I think it comes down to the landlords not paying their bill. That said, my crafty hacker skills have finally paid off (skills that were refined over time with countless computer bills- mostly taken care of by my father over my childhood years).. and I've landed a connection from some unsuspecting victim across the street from me. Note to unsuspecting victim: thanks for accomodating me, and your cheque is in the mail! So that's that. I hope to have a consistant daily update for you all from now on- but rest assured, you'll always be kept in the know!

Thanks for reading skinabees, I've missed you!

XO

Oh, and for those of you who want to witness Tony and Nick's to it's fullest:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?layer=c&cbll=43.649635,-79.431241&cbp=12,,,1,&ved=0CBsQ2wU&sa=X&ei=Du3dS4PaCpaqM93X9KMI

Deliquency

I'm TERRIBLY TERRIBLY SORRY FOR MY LACK of posting- but rest assured, by the end of the weekend I will have updated you all on my first week of self-induced torture- masquerading as the South Beach Diet.

Too Many Cooks Spoil The Bisque

WELL.. what a weekend I've had! Sorry to all of you who may have logged in to try and read my most recent posts- as it turns out, my internet is a bit of a troubled child and has a tendency to run away from time to time.



So I find myself in the Parkdale Public Library, blogging beside people who are watching quasi-pornographic videos on youtube, and searching up religious paraphernalia within eyesight (there should be a law against such things).



For those of you who don't know, in addition to my job at a classy restaurant in the heart of downtown, I also hold a position as a server at Medieval Times. My proper position title is "Serf", but I find myself referring to it as "Man Wench"- due to the insane amount of wench work I have to so within the span of 3 hours. This weekend, I was given the lofty task of doing something called "chicken dipping". Why they call it dipping is beyond my realm of conscience, as there's simply no dipping involved. During the show, right before chicken is served- there are a handful of people who are chosen to present the food to the king. It's quite a process of following music queues, and stair hopping to get in the right place for the light design. Because it was my first time, a co-worker friend of mine helped guide me through the process. I was to follow her lead, and present the chicken- and then seal the deal with a bow. So, I grabbed my 30 cooked chickens from the colourful kitchen staff (a story for another day)- and followed my co-worker to the arena. Everything seemed to go smooth up until I got to my mark in the arena. The light came on me, and I got ready to do my big bow. Upon hearing my cue, I looked over at my co-worker to get confirmation to make my next move- and in the heat of the moment, ended up performing a big COURTSEY in front of the king. Well, needless to say, it provided most of the staff with a fantastic laugh- and a decent amount of humility for me. I guess some things just come naturally.



Onto more exciting things: TODAY IS THE DAY! I'm officially starting my 2 week trek down skinabee lane. Re-reading my grocery list last night was an eyeopening task. You see, there are certain restrictions that really do make you second guess what the hell the inventor of this diet was consuming while writing the book. On any given day, I have the complicated choice of choosing 15 almonds, or 30 pistachios as a snack of choice. I actually caught myself questioning this logic out loud with an emotional "FOR REAL?" escaping my lips. But who am I to question the South Beach scientists?



So, off I go now to the grocery store to buy a weeks worth of supplies- and am secretly hoping that almonds come in packages of 15- as my willpower when given a plethora of snack is slim to none.



I plan on updating again at some point today, in order to make up for my delinquent internet connection this weekend. Much love to all you readers out there- and thank you so much for the surprising emails of praise. Don't spoil me too much with compliments, I have a tendency to get cocky.

The Princess' Last Supper

Sadly my reign as a "special" eater is over. Apperantly my sous chef friend has been scolded to catering to everyone's diets after my initiative. I can't say I blame others, I mean.. if I could, I'd say I'm on an all ostrich diet- simply to benefit from the super expensive dishes we serve. Alas, I will have to eat the same meals as my co workers. Luckily, there's always salad readily available- I just may have to grab a burger and pass the bun.

Everyday on the walk to work, I always pass the same homeless man. Here's the thing- he's been around for years and I always notice him on Queen St. when I'm walking about. Monday to Friday, he seems completely sane- and I've actually chatted with him on and off when tossing him a loonie (which has acquired me a daily nod of recognition). However, if you catch him on a Saturday- all bets are off.. I feel like there may be a sale on street drugs that starts at 6am on Saturday (or maybe tips get better - are they tips or donations?). He turns into the life of the party on Queen St, and as far as I'm concerned deserves a stage. All of a sudden, the reserved kind street man turns into Jekel- grabbing women's boobs, yelling out obscenities, and general chaos instigation (I almost feel like my loonie donations are admission to the shit show on Saturday). Perhaps I should save my burger bun for him.

Well, I hope this makes up for my lack of posts.. I've been diligent with all my eats today- and am now off to play bingo with the most talented ARTIST I know, Vicki Skandalaki. Have a good night all, and until tomorrow.. skinabee you later.

A Bitter Sweet Start

So, as we venture closer to the start date of my mountainous task, I'm easing myself into eating in a more proper way.

I guess I should start it this way... I work at an amazing restaurant in the downtown core of Toronto. We have a state of the art kitchen and AMAZING people working in it.. one being the fantastic pastry chef, Kristen (who's cookies I am going to miss more than a war amp misses a limb - apologies to any war amp readers, but you really need to try her cookies: life wouldn't seem so bad). That being said, every day we are made a staff meal at 3pm sharp- at which point everyone races to the kitchen pass to grab some grub. One chinese angel is responsible for churning out all of our eats for the day- and often she will chime out "ALL YOU CAN EAT $9.99" when we all gather for our sensual food. Today, I took it upon myself to tell her about my South Beach Diet- and how she can make less of the carby stuff for me- I'll be fine with a salad everyday from now on. WELL, wouldn't you know; she wants to do South Beach with me! So, I filled her in on every detail- but she had one stipulation: being a chef, she often needs to try what she makes. With that, I may have quipped "Taste but don't swallow"- only later realizing not only did I sound grotesque, but I may have just lead the sous chef down a long road to bulimia. That would be an interesting blog unto itself.

Anyway, I'm so excited because NOW, I will have a delicious salad with avocados, cucumber, and assorted veggies everyday to keep on track. I just have to keep my sniffer plugged when I pass by the ever so tempting fries (which are remnant of the grilled cheese mentioned in the post prior).

Now, along with the diet- I find myself craving the ultimate summer tan. I have a history with self-tanner products. We go back farther than Ernie and Bert- well, almost. I've gone through orange palms, flaky orange alligator patches, and lets not forget the delightful aroma of the active product in ALL self tanners: DHA (which I think truly stands for "Downright HEINOUS Aroma"). A little tip my friends: if the bottle says "light fresh scent"- you need to interpret this phase with a different context. When you go into a bedroom that a teenager has lived in, and smell it after it's been doused with febreeze, it has a light fresh scent. However, the smell of a teen is a grower not a shower- and will leer it's smelly head within hours of being disguised. So, DON'T FALL FOR IT- If you're going to self tan, do it before bed... and don't invite anyone to that bed until the sheets are changed. If you're married; well why do you care anyway- I'm sure other parts of you have smelled worse.

In closing, I'm going to share one of the recipes I'm going to be preparing for the Monday start. I always find it hard to stomach breakfast food as I HATE eggs, but I found something that may mask the egginess of the dirty bastards. This recipe was provided by some chick on the internet named "Kalyn":

Breakfast Casserole with Spinach, Leeks, Cottage Cheese, and Goat Cheese
(Makes 4 large or six small servings, recipe created by Kalyn.)

1 leek, white and light green part only (or use green onion or red onion if you don't want to buy leeks)
2 tsp. olive oil
5-6 oz. baby spinach leaves, washed and dried if needed
10 eggs, lightly beaten
1-2 tsp. Spike Seasoning (or use any other all-purpose seasoning that tastes good with eggs)
salt and fresh ground black pepper to taste (Spike has salt, so I only used pepper)
1/2 cup low-fat cottage cheese, rinsed with cold water and drained well
3 oz. soft goat cheese, crumbled (the one I used had 7 grams of fat per ounce, could substitute low-fat cream cheese, Feta, or more cottage cheese for the goat cheese)

Cut a 3 0z. piece from a log of goat cheese and put in the freezer to chill while you prep other ingredients. Preheat oven to 375F/190C.

Measure 1/2 cup low-fat cottage cheese, put in a fine strainer, and rinse with cold water. (If you prefer not to rinse the cottage cheese I think it would just make it a little creamier, but I always rinse.)

Cut off the root end and dark green part of the leek, then cut into fourths lengthwise and slice into thin pieces. Leeks are usually dirty, so I washed the sliced leeks in the salad spinner and spun dry.

Heat olive oil in a frying pan with tall sides, then add leeks and saute 3-4 minutes. Then add the spinach leaves and saute 3-4 minutes more. While vegetables are cooking, lightly beat the eggs with Spike Seasoning, salt and pepper. Remove the goat cheese from the freezer and crumble it as finely as you can.

Spray a 8" x 8" casserole dish with nonstick spray. Spread spinach/leek mixture in the bottom of the dish, then layer on cottage cheese and goat cheese. Pour egg mixture over, then use a fork to gently stir so the veggies and cheese are evenly distributed in the eggs.

Bake 20-25 minutes, or until eggs are set and lightly browned. The casserole will puff up slightly as it bakes, but will settle down when it cools for a few minutes.

Cut into pieces and serve hot. I eat this with a dollop of low-fat sour cream.

We'll see if I can restrict myself to just a "dollop", Kalyn.


Thanks for reading guys, and until tomorrow.. Skinabee you later!

The Countdown Begins

Once, Twice, Three times a Skinabee

Picture this:

Trudging down the lonely pavement of a small town: it's lunch time, and a much needed re-fuel is in order. This is the one savourable moment of the day- knowing that in minutes, I'll be able to sink 2 slices of white bread into a frying pan of olive oil, as they surround half of a grated block of cheese (a trade recipe that took me months to perfect). Not to mention the large dousing of garlic salt once cooked to add to my perception of gourmet dining. In addition to this: a dollop of ketchup the size of a small plate, and a homemade chocolate milkshake (made with a quart of icecream, and whipping cream - of course). Top it all off with an entire row of chocolate chip cookies, and the conscience clearer: a can of diet coke.

Angiogram, anyone?

That my friends, was the regular diet of yours truly in highschool - and imagine what dinner was like! It was probably the pinnacle of my overeating childhood; but I still catch myself dreaming of those glutton filled days. Upon reaching my maximum of 230lbs, I finally decided to go the other way and slimmed down to a comfortable 160. However, a skinabee's fight is never fully won!

I suppose I should outline the definition of a skinabee- just to clear up any confusion.
Well, in my "husky" (as my mother so fondly called them) days- I used to be obsessed with the Spice Girls: particularily Ginger. We won't get into the alluring "dusty rose" coloured hair I maintained for the better part of the 90's. Anyway.. the Spice Girls referred to themselves as "Wannabes" - something the whole world could relate with. Everyone wants to be something at one point or another.. and that thing for me was always to be SKINNY. Hence coining the term: SKINABEES!

Over the past seven years since highschool, it's been a labour of hate trying to maintain a normal sense of not only eating; but a normal sense of self. So the reason for all this? Once again, I'm trudging my ass back to the proverbial fitness table. That's right: gym, south beach diet, and all in all "get fit and have fun" styles. The objective: to rewind the clock and jumpstart the second half of my twenties with a bang. Now, it's important to note that by no means do I find myself in the state of my highschool habits... I'm just starting to veer offtrack and turning the wheel before a crash. So, all of this will commence on Monday, April 19th, 2010 - at the break of dawn.

So why do you care? Well, let's be honest.. maybe you don't give a flying. However, I'm going to try and write daily not only to monitor progress, but to serve as a somewhat motivational bookmark. I KNOW there's more SKINABEES out there, and I'm doing this for you too!

Wish me luck, or don't.. only time will tell.. But I'll tell you- I'm ready to go up against the grain.

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