I'll Be Your Portia, You Be My Ellen

After over a year of being a lazy bugger- I've decided it's time to revisit the skinabee world. A lot has happened lately - a new apartment (or 2), a new boyfriend/roommate, darker locks, and a new job! With all of these changes, I've seen a lot of monumental skinabee moments that are sure to make your stomach turn, flip, convulse and yip like a banshee on New Years Eve.

We're not over yet!

With a renewed blog comes a renewed goal... and I've set a hefty one for myself. Over the past year: I've lost 40 pounds (nope, that's not really the end of my sentence). To continue on that thought: Over the past year I've lost 40 pounds, but alas - 30 of those pounds missed me so much, they came back to wish me a "Happy Thanksgiving". I'm here today to proclaim that they will not be around to wish me a "Merry Christmas" let alone a "Feliz Navidad". I'm inviting you on my journey to Xmas - with the promise of reliability in posts and guilty self-deprecating humour (everyone's favourite). Hear about my Toronto dining experiences, my exercise woes, the struggle to keep cocktails skinabee friendly, and general banter that tends to escape my fingertips like drool from an ugly newborns mouth.

I'm driven to fit into H&M's ridiculously sized jeans: which I bought this time last year. Also pushing me is the fear that posting and not living up to bravado will make me look like a tool, and a big talker (the former already being popular assumption throughout the ranks of family and friends).

Tuna-Pita-Ricecakealicious. Fake it till you make it.

I leave you with a picture of my daily lunch staple items, and a hope that you'll forgive me for picking up and leaving like Anne Heche did with Ellen DeGeneres. I promise to be your Portia de Rossi from now on.

Till tomorrow, skinabees!

C

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.