What’s Your BMI?

Mine is 25.

O.M.G!

I’m overweight!

Oh no! What am I going to do?

The world is ending! Noooooo!!!!!

Ha.

Do I have your attention?

OK, then. Let’s move on to the issue at hand.

Students at Lincoln University with a Body Mass Index (BMI) of 30 or higher are now being required to take a fitness course.

Don’t take the class, don’t graduate. That’s the policy.

Students with a BMI of under 30 are not required to take this course.

Including those who are underweight.

Good. Lord.

There are so many things wrong with this that I don’t even know where to start.

OK, I’ll start with the BMI.

Or, better known as the “Bane of Most Personal Trainer’s Existence”.

I don’t know what Stone Age administrator decided to use BMIs to determine whether these students are overweight, but anyone in their right mind knows how totally and completely inaccurate these are.

Take almost any professional, or college, or hell, average athlete, and their BMI will put them in the overweight to obese range.

Take almost anyone who goes to the gym on a regular basis and their BMI will say they are overweight.

And then take someone who doesn’t work out, has no muscle mass, might smoke a pack a day and eat like crap, but their BMI might put them in the normal range, therefore deeming them “healthy”.

Does that make sense?

I didn’t think so.

BMI only takes into consideration a person’s height and weight. Where that weight comes from doesn’t make a difference.

Muscle, fat…it’s all the same to the BMI.

Now, you might be asking:
But what about waist to hip ratio? Body fat percentage? Do those matter?

Nope and nope. BMI doesn’t care. As long as your happy little number falls between 20-24.9, BMI could care less how healthy you really are.

Therefore, let me tell you why some athletes are “fat” and lazy people “aren’t”.

Muscle is denser than fat. Much denser. So, essentially, it weighs more.

So someone with, say, a lot of muscle mass, like an athlete or active person, might weigh the same, (or more) and have the same (or higher) BMI than someone with, say, no muscle mass or a lot of fat. Hence the reason why so many athletes (and gym rats) are considered “obese”.

For those of you who need a visual, allow me to refer you to this:

Yes, I know its a cartoon. But it’s a pretty good comparison of how two people with the same BMI can be on completely opposite ends of the word “healthy”.

So, strictly speaking, BMI doesn’t like people who work out and gain muscle mass. It makes them overweight.

OK, that might be taking it a little too far.

But now do you see why it’s so absurd for Lincoln University to require this class only for certain people?

Not just “overweight” and “obese” people need to learn how to be healthy. These are, lots of times (but definitely not always), the people who are healthy. It’s the 100 lb waifs who eat like crap and don’t work out but are blessed with the metabolism of a speeding train and therefore never gain weight and don’t learn healthy habits like working out and eating right that need these “health classes”. (Whew!)

::sigh::

Now don’t get me wrong. There are certainly people out there who have a high BMI and truly are overweight and obese. And they need these classes too.

I guess what I’m getting at is — if the school is going to make a health class a requirement, they should make it a requirement for everyone.

They shouldn’t single people out.

I’m surprised Lincoln University hasn’t realized this yet. You’d think the nation’s first all black college would know a thing or two about discrimination.

Ha.

Apparently not.

Gingervitis

Fun fact of the day: I’m an endangered species.

No really. I am. Read this article.

That’s right folks. Redheads are going extinct.

How in the world are you all going to carry on without us?

Of course, this begs the question: how many of you know a redhead, better known as a ginger?

I know a few. Aside from the completely obvious fact that I’ve got glowing strands of red atop my head, there are several gingers roaming around my circle of friends, including one of my best and oldest friends.

(Hi Bridge!)

And besides the unfortunate creature known as Carrot Top, I think redheads are pretty damn cool.

So, when I read this article about a poor little redheaded boy getting beat up by his classmates, it really upset me.

I mean, seriously!

Don’t they know Kick a Ginger Day is in March??

Oh, relax. I’m kidding.

I know it’s in July.

OK, but really guys. Listen, I’m all for poking fun at different…ummm…types of people. There’s nothing wrong with having a little laugh at someone else’s expense. And by no means have I ever been sensitive about my red hair. Carrot Top, Red, Pumpkin Head…I’ve heard them all.

But when the fun and games turn to violence, that’s when you know its gone too far.

Have you ever heard of Kick a Jew Day?

Or Kick an Asian Day?

What? Do you find that offensive?

Then how is Kick a Ginger Day any different?

That’s what I thought.

So lay off, you big brutes! If you’d like a have a little non-violent fun at our expense, please visit the Ginger Kids website. But stop kicking us, damn it!

And PS- If you’d like to send a condolence gift to my poor endangered self, feel free to mail one directly to my home address.

Monetary donations can be directly deposited into my PayPal account.

Thank you for giving me free gifts…uh, I mean…supporting this great cause.

Back to reality…

Well, I’m back from St. Maarten! (Insert extremely fake happy voice here.)

Warning: Although I know most of you only read this for my amazing wit and overall awesome sense of humor, this post doesn’t really have any of that. I’m still in post-vacation depression mode and I just don’t have it in me yet.

But since I’ve been back for over a week now, and I know you’ve all been anxiously checking this every day, I figured I should get something up here so you didn’t all think I had fallen off the face of the Earth.

So, hello everyone! I’m back in the States after a week of pure bliss in paradise. And boy oh boy, Boston sure knew how to welcome us back after a week in 85-90 degree weather. We flew back last Saturday night and came back to rain, cold, and overall disgustingness. (I don’t care if that’s not a word, that’s what it was.)

My tan…well, ok, sunburn….is already faded and my summer clothes have all been washed and put away for next year.

Ugh.

So forgive me if I’ve been a little lax about posting here. It’s gonna take some time people.

Stayed tuned tomorrow for a little more about my week in paradise, and an article on everyone’s favorite breed of humans: Gingers!

Teen Drinking and St. Maarten Bound

Those topics go together like….well actually, they don’t go together at all.

Sorry if I seem all over the place today. I’ve officially switched into vacation mode. But before we talk about that, let’s get serious.

It’s just for a second, I swear!

How old were you when you had your first drink?

13? 15? 18?

Am I close? Or am I being too conservative?

Me? I was 25.

……what? I was!

Alright, I only put that because I know my dad reads my posts, (Hi Dad!), so I have to pretend I’m somewhat responsible.

I’m not sure what the average age is, but I think it’s safe to assume most kids have tried an alcoholic drink by the time they’re 16 or 17. I’m not saying all 16 and 17 year olds are going out and getting smashed every weekend (although I know some are), but it would be pretty naive to think they’re not experimenting.

Anyway, back in October, Nickelodeon aired a special episode titled “Kids in Rehab” for their series Nick News with Linda Ellerbee.

Of the 2 million people who checked into rehab in 2007, almost 25,000 of them were under the age of 15.

15 years old.

And we’re not talking they had tried a drink by the age of 15, or even gone out and gotten drunk a couple times by the age of 15. These kids that checked into rehab were alcoholics.

High-freaking-five Nickelodeon for bringing attention to this.

I already thought you rocked because you constantly play marathons of Spongebob Squarepants, but highlighting such a scary and important issue makes you rock even more.

OK, now onto the second part of this post…

This time tomorrow, I’ll be on a plane, headed HERE:

Ahhhhhhhh

And this is what I’ll look like flying in:

Did you see me waving??

Needless to say, I’m pumped.

I won’t be anywhere near a computer for the next week, so this will be the last post for a bit.

Have a great weekend/week. I’ll be thinking of you all while I’m on the beach.

Wait, who am I kidding. No I won’t.

Junk Food = Heroin?!

I love food.

Especially chocolate.

Sigh.

Seriously, my dreams look something like this:

Minus the Almond Joy (Yeck)

Just last night, I downed almost half a pint of Ben Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream. (Thanks Joe )

If I didn’t force myself workout regularly, I’d probably end up as a contestant on The Biggest Loser, with Jillian Michaels teaching me kettlebells and feeding me 5 calorie Extra Sugar-Free gum.

**Shudder**

So, you’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. Hold your horses. I’m getting there.

A scientist in London has found that junk food is as addicting as drugs.

OK, is just me, or does the kid in the article look like he’s getting possessed by that burger?

He’s like, “Must. Eat. Red. Meat.” Nom, nom, nom.

Haa. Anyway….

This study actually found that junk food is almost as addictive as heroin.

Um, excuse me? HEROIN? Let me say this for everyone:

That’s effin’ scary!

It’s terrifying to think that people have become so dependent on junk food that it’s now being compared to illegal drugs.

It’s called willpower, people! C’mon!

Now excuse me, I need to go shoot up…errrr…eat a chocolate bar.

PS- Read the study. It’s interesting.

Sugar Highs

Oh, boy. Halloween has come and gone, and all we’re left with are crashing blood sugar levels and tight pants.

Well, I am at least. Who thought up this holiday anyway? The diet companies?

Sheesh.

If you’re anything like me, your will-power probably goes out the window the second you lay eyes on a fun-size Snickers bar.

Or Milky Way bar.

Or Rolo’s. (Am I the only one who thinks Rolo’s are extremely under-rated? God damn, those things are tasty!)

Now, normally candy consumption is semi-easy to avoid. I just don’t buy it. But unfortunately, we get trick-or-treaters at my place of residence.

I say unfortunately because, even though we only get a handful of the buggers knocking on our door every year, we usually buy enough candy to feed all of Africa.

For a year.

Needless to say, we have a boatload of candy left over.

What’s that? You want to know my ideal way of getting rid of leftover Halloween candy? That’s easy.

Step 1: Take candy bowl into bed and cover self and said bowl with covers. (Glass of milk, optional)
Step 2: Turn on Lifetime movie
Step 3: Consume candy while watching Lifetime movie
Step 4: Pass out in candy-induced coma.

However, something tells me that wouldn’t bode well with my aspirations of achieving a bikini body in the next 5 days for my trip to St. Maarten.

Bummer.

I guess a Plan B is in order.

So, that’s why I think Soldier’s Angels is a really cool and thoughtful way to get rid of all your extra Halloween candy. All you need to do is send it to the addresses given, and they’ll ship it to troops stationed overseas. Who deserves a boatload of sugar more than the men and women serving our country? It may not seem like much to you, but any little taste of home is like a blessing to these awesome people.

Let’s see if the Vatican has a problem with that!

5 year old…bodybuilder?

As the saying goes: When in Rome….

I’m going to revise that statement to be: When you’re a Romanian in Rome…

I’ll start you all off with this clip:

Most normal 5-year-olds are eating Play-Doh and riding their Big Wheels at this age. Their biggest accomplishment is figuring out how to ride a bike and eat a donut at the same time.

But noooooooo, Giuliano had to go and show us all up and get buff.

What a jerk.

I cringed when I saw this little guy’s pull up form. I cringed even more when I saw his push up form.

And then I cringed when I realized I was critiquing a 5-year-olds form.

I mean seriously…5 years old with a 6 pack?? Most people only dream of that.

Except for me of course. I already have one.

Ha.

Anyway, the article mentions that he’s been training for 3 years.

Um, 3 years? Now, I’ve never been good at math, but if I’m correct that means he started working out when he was…2??

What the hell! I want his motivation! Most days of the week it takes me an hour just to talk myself into even going to the gym.

I will say, he looks like he actually enjoys working out. But I have to question the parent’s motivation behind this. Why would this kid’s father encourage his child to start lifting weights at the age of 2?

And I also have to question the effects this kind of training will have on his growing body.

Are any of you out there former child body builders?

I’m guessing….no.

But if any of you are, or if you happen to be an expert on child bodybuilding, please enlighten me.

PS- Any chance I can look like that in 10 days? I want to look good for my St. Maarten trip.

Tomorrow’s post: Pictures of my pumpkin carving skills, and a yummy pumpkin seed recipe. Stay tuned!

Swimsuit “uniforms” no more!

How many of you watched the Miss America pageant growing up?

Anyone?

No? Really?

Well, I did. In fact, I went to it several years in a row in Atlantic City with my childhood best friend, as a birthday gift to her from her parents. They always let her bring a friend, and guess who she always picked?

You guessed it. Me.

God, I loved those trips. 13-years-old, parent-free, roaming up and down the boardwalk at 3 AM, the wind in my hair, the sand under my feet, a beer in my hand….

I mean…just kidding Mom and Dad!

Although I will admit, Atlantic City was the first place I ever saw a drug dealer.

And a hooker.

And a drug dealer with a hooker.

OK then….onto my point….

The Miss California pageant is doing away with the swimsuit “uniform” in the competition.

California, of all places. The one state with more bronzed, blond beach bums than all the other states in the country combined has suddenly gone all conservative.

And I’m glad.

But first let me snicker at the phrase “swimsuit uniform”. Seriously people? It’s called a bikini.

But don’t get confused. They’re not doing away with the swimsuit competition completely, just the identical suits…meaning contestants are allowed to wear whatever style they’d like, presumably one that will flatter their body type.

I don’t think I need to tell you why I think this is a good idea. California is finally realizing that beauty (not to sound corny) comes in all shapes and sizes. And considering a large part of the pageant’s fan base is young teens, it’s important to convey that message.

So, kudos to CA.

Who knows, maybe you’ll see me prancing across the stage in next year’s pageant.

As long as burkas are considered acceptable swim wear.

Swine Flu and the government? Not a match made in heaven

Well, it’s happened. Swine flu has struck our apartment.

Well, potentially.

I say potentially because my roommate and I have tentatively diagnosed our third roommate with the flu. And, seen as how we’re doctors and all, I think we may be right.

Or we may be wrong, considering I just got a text from said Sick Roommate* proclaiming she’s at work feeling much better.

Riiiiiiight. I’m still nervous.

But anyway, I digress. The real reason for this post is due mainly in part to Sick Roommate’s place of employment. Her governmental place of employment.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s my understanding that the government has advised any and all people who are sick and think they have the flu to stay home until they are better. Right?

So, you’d think that a government agency such as the one Sick Roommate works at would be especially vigilant about this. Right?

Nope.

This government agency advised her that since she has not accumulated enough sick time yet, she is required to be in work, flu or no flu.

Um, WHAT????

Are they serious? They’d rather have someone traipsing around the office spreading swine flu germs all over the place than give her sick time and let her stay home?

News Flash– having Sick Roommate in the office will cost you a lot more money than just paying her for a couple days of sick time.

Do you really need me to tell you why?

Everyone else is going to get sick. Then, everyone will be home sick, not just her, and you’ll be screwed over a million times worse.

Seriously, what the hell are they thinking?

I’m not going to mention who exactly Sick Roommate works for, but it appears they’re enjoying screwing over our generation, both in retirement and the present day.

My advice to this agency? Get off your high horse, and recognize there is an epidemic going around. Requiring new employees to be in work when they are obviously sick is irresponsible, grossly negligent of other’s health, and quite frankly, just another sign that all you government officials get off on this stupid power trip you think you all have.

Ugh.

In the meantime, I plan on doing what I can to avoid contracting this glorious illness:
Step 1 — Mark Sick Roommate’s bedroom door with a giant red X
Step 2 — Declare her officially in quarantine until 2020.
Step 3 — Don surgical masks when in the common areas or when partaking in a roommate dinner
Step 4 — Serve her chicken soup…with a 10 foot pole.

Any other ideas help me avoid the swine flu? Or should I just resign myself to the fact that my chances of getting H1N1 have just increased 100 fold?

*Names have been changed

Cut it out, Mother Nature!

Alright, this isn’t exactly a health post, but I just need to vent, and simultaneously give myself a hearty pat on the back.

OK, vent first:

Seriously Mother Nature, you need to cut it out. You’re making me mad.

I mean, really, of all the days for good ‘ol New England to have it’s first Nor’easter of the season, it had to be Sunday.

Aside from the fact that it’s October, it also had to be the one day out of the last six months that I had signed up to run a road race. One race out of the, oh, 3 or 4 I do a year.

And it was snowing. And did I mention it’s October?

Now some of you smart people reading this might be saying:
Why doesn’t she just move out of New England?

And my response to you is:
You might be onto something.

But if I did, I wouldn’t have anything to complain about, and therefore wouldn’t have anything to blog about. And then where would we all be?

So, anyway, back to my rant. What is a girl to do? Skip the damn race and stay in my nice cozy bed for the remainder of the weekend, out of the wind and rain? Or drag my butt to Quincy and take part?

Is the suspense killing you?

No, I didn’t think so.

Well, ladies and gents, here’s your answer anyway:

Yes, I'm the tool wearing gloves.

And now for an action shot:

WEEEEE! Look at me go!

Actually, it wasn’t all the bad. The rain kept all the runners nice and cool (well, freezing) and nothing can beat free Sam Adams beer after running an invigorating 6.2 miles in rain/snow/healthy combination of the two.

Plus, it was a Firefighters Memorial Race, which a really good cause. So high five to the 500 or so runners who ventured out to run.

Here’s the results, if any of you are interested:
Firefighter’s 10k road race results.

Big time bonus points to anyone who can find my name on the list.

And no, you won’t find it by scrolling all the way to the bottom of the list. Nice try.