Big Dreams, Small Apartments

So I went to check out some art installations in SoHo today.  I also happened to check out some apartments for myself as I’m considering getting a place of my own this year here in the big city.  As it turns out, the art installations I saw are located in immense, gorgeous lofts consisting of thousands of square feet, floor to ceiling windows, charming pillars and high beamed ceilings; one of which is filled with dirt – I’m not being abstract here, it is literally filled with over 250,000 pounds of soil – the other filled with 500 brass rods lined up on the floor.  

The New York Earth Room by Walter De Maria

Less impressively, the apartments where I am considering making a home for myself at 28 years of age were closer to 500 square feet a piece – I say “closer to” because they weren’t actually 500 square feet, but somewhere comfortably under that number – and filled only with dust and the distinct presence of countless former tenants’ bitter disillusionment.  As I stood in the large, envy-inducing, dirt-filled loft, I thought fleetingly about how nice it is that since 1977, this prime piece of real estate has been occupied by this art installation rather than being rented out to the highest bidder at prices that sound as preposterously large and silly as the United States national debt.  Then, a less fleeting and much more hostile thought entered my mind.  Why the hell is it that in this city, you can be damn near 30, work full time, make a substantial amount of money by any other city’s standards, and still be able to afford not the SoHo loft of your dreams – oh no – but the Lower East Side studio of your harsh, warped reality?! 

The Broker Kilometer by Walter De Maria

I know better than anyone the allure of Manhattan.  I myself moved here less than three years ago in pursuit of the American dream – a walking city with a 4am last call – and have since become all too familiar with the disproportionately steep cost of living in this glamorous yet filthy city.  I also realize that in moving here myself I am part of the problem, i.e. supply and demand.  But none of that logic offers me even the slightest bit of solace as I brainstorm about where to find the tiny furniture I’ll need to furnish the $2,000 a month studio “apartment” (closet) I’ll be spending my late 20’s in when I know that somewhere out there, not so far away, there is a 3,000 square foot loft being occupied…by DIRT!  Man I love New York.

A studio in my price range…no designer attached to this one.

 

 

Remember College?

Remember college?  Showing up that first day on campus feeling excited, unsure but fearless in the face of your new life laid out in front of you like a brochure, grand stone buildings and fall leaves on the ground, parents dropping off boxes, tearful and jubilant farewells.  Everyone you meet a potential new friend.  Staying up all night discussing the world, confident that your views were as developed as they’d ever be, open-minded but surefooted in your still green beliefs, things based in hearsay but lacking in experience.  College was the best of both worlds, where childhood lack of responsibility meets adult freedom and the world is like a buffet of options to pick and choose from.  A new best friend, a new lover, a new one night stand; a new major, a new club, a new direction in life.  Never knowing that life couldn’t possibly stay this free, feel this limitless.  How could we know that it wouldn’t always be this easy to start over, this easy to make friends, find soul mates, fall on our faces and have the youthful resilience to get back up again, put ourselves out there at the mercy of the world and risk the pain that may ensue for the triumph of finally (possibly) getting it right.  Back when failures and disappointments were still the exception, and not the paralyzing rule.  Before we understood that life wasn’t always the perfectly crafted result of planning and preparation, doing the right thing (most of the time) and just really wanting something.  If you try hard, if you go to church every Sunday, if you do the work and be a “good person”, you’ll get the life you always knew you’d have, the one you wanted, the fulfillment of the American dream that you were promised before anyone knew that it would cease to exist before you even got your shot at it.  Yes college.  The last hoorah.  Does life get better after it?  In a million ways, of course.  But is there ever again that same sense of open-ended hope, of limitless expectations free of the fear of having fallen short before?  Without the understanding that things just might not look better in the morning after a good night’s sleep like mom used to say?  I liken myself in college to having had an almost weightless existence, though it seemed heavy with importance at the time.  And while back then it was – relatively speaking – it now seems to have been worry-free and rose-tinted after years of living in the “real world”; a harsher place with no safety net, no smorgasbord of consequence-free choices to make, no pool of potential friends and suitors to choose from, the realization that you might end up somewhere that isn’t where you planned.  It was standing on the edge of a cliff and believing the only possibility was to take off in flight and never to fall.  I remember college.  Fondly, and wistfully.  If only we had known when we were in it, we might’ve appreciated it a bit more, taken the hard parts less seriously, relished in that buoyant existence just a little more.  But I’ll settle for having lived in it, truly, and for remembering it for exactly what it was; college.

Winter is Bull Shit.

Deciding to make the move from LA to New York was easy.  The only deterrent was of course the extreme difference in weather. Luckily for me I waited until global warming had really gotten a foothold before planting roots on the east coast, and my first New York winter was a breeze.  It snowed maybe twice but its heart wasn’t in it.  I didn’t even bother to buy real boots.   So you can imagine my dismay when this winter decided to stop being polite and start getting real.

Now as a general rule I don’t like the temperature going below my age.  I understand this means I’ll have to retire south or west in the coming years and that’s fine.  I’m prepared for that; Florida and California await.  But in the mean time I have to pull on one of my baker’s dozen matching scarf and hat sets, zip up my ankle length down coat and huddle around my hair straightener in the mornings because my landlord refuses to heat the apartment above the legally required 45 degrees.  In my misery I’ve compiled this list of reasons why cold weather is bullshit.  Please enjoy.

• Not only does wearing gloves make it impossible for me to text while walking, it also makes me feel like a creep.  I attribute this to both MJ and OJ.  Thanks a lot guys.

Giving gloves a bad rep for decades.

 

• Seeing people standing outside voluntarily.  Girls in their matching spandex ensembles clutching their little mats chomping at the bit for the Yoga center to open.  Are you kidding?  Go home!  Don’t arrive 15 minutes early!  Ugh.  And cigarette smokers.  If they applied half the will power to quitting as they do to standing outside in 15 degree weather every hour with a frozen hand and a grimace they’d be all set.
• Scantily dressed women at bars and clubs making me look like a frumpy old spinster because I decided to skip the peep-toe stilettos in favor of my super warm and practical down lined rubber boots.  It’s okay fellas, we’ll see who gets the last laugh when you catch the cold she’s inevitably incubating.
•  The absolute devastation of checking the temperature, finding that it’s an unfathomable 15 degrees out, then seeing below it in fine print that it “Feels Like” -2.

Wha?!

 

 

• Not being able to find a suitable explanation for why the “Feels Like” temperature isn’t just the god damned temperature.  Just be up front, don’t ease me into my harsh reality.
• When the skin on my face freezes and I lose control of my expressions.  Sorry hot guy, that was meant to be a coy, come-hither smile but based on your reaction it did not turn out the way I’d expected…
• Feeling guilty and then over tipping the delivery man when I open the door to collect my dinner only to find that his tears have frozen to his cheeks on the brisk bike ride over.  You signed up for this man.  Stop judging me!
• The fact that everyone on the East Coast inevitably becomes less attractive for four or five months of the year.  Being bundled up doesn’t hide the fact that we’re all pale, doughy lumps of cold, bitter sadness.
• Logging onto Facebook during those same unattractive months and seeing photos of all of my west coast friends smiling on the beach looking tan and thin.  How thoughtless.

The one positive of all of this is getting to see dogs in their winter coats.  It is a daily glimmer of hope in what has otherwise become a quest to get from one door to the next as quickly as possible without getting a nose bleed.  Winter is bullshit.

 

That Sh*t I Don’t Like

Rap music has taken a turn in the last decade or so.  It is ridiculous and shameful, where it was once entertaining and at times even thought provoking.  Song titles like “Diced Pineapples” and lyrics turned catch phrases like “dat sh*t cray” have completely depleted my faith in hip hop.  That being said, a recent “hit” has really struck a cord with me, and has inspired me to hop on the band wagon.  And so, with slight shame I give you a list of that sh*t I don’t like:

• When a bum asks me for change on my way into a store and then looks at me accusingly when I walk out having just bought something after claiming I had no change to spare.  Look I paid with a card ok!  And just when I’m trying to decide  between explaining this to said bum and going to the ATM to avoid his accusing glare, I realize that he’s a vagabond and I just keep it moving.

• When I open my fridge only to find that my roommate has removed all of my vegetables from the crisper drawer, jammed them on top of our other groceries in a haphazard fashion and replaced them with a 24 pack of beer.  This drawer is labeled Vegetable Crisper!  Now my lettuce is wilted and your beer is none the crisper.

I guess I’m the one mistaken here..

• When my phone’s auto correct makes me look foolish.  Why wouldn’t taco be in the dictionary?  Now my friends think I’ve invited them to something called Taxi Night, and no one has RSVPed yes.

• When no one notifies me that we’ve run out of toilet paper in the apartment I share with two grown men.  It’s like, I know you were using it when it was here, so the fact that you don’t seem put out by its absence is both confusing and foul.  Now when I wander into the bathroom half asleep in the middle of the night, I’ll not only fall into the bowl thanks to you leaving the seat up, I’ll then find that I’m also stranded without an escape route because no one could be bothered to shoot me a text when they used the last square with no intention of replacing it.  Uncouth.

• When I try to get into shape.  Seemingly all things that are bad for you are easy and enjoyable.  All things that are good for you are difficult and often an “acquired” taste, be it food or habit.  I want to look like an Olympic decathlon competitor, but I also want to go to happy hour every day after work, then sit on my couch consuming fatty and sugary food and drink.  Guess which wish has been prevailing…

• When someone prefaces a statement with “No offense but…” and then says something horribly offensive.

• When I’m trying to hail a cab, holding like three heavy bags in a dress and looking hella frazzled, and some kindly cab driver pulls up next to me and rolls the window down, leaving me to foolishly reach for the door handle only to find that its locked, and they’re demanding to know where I’m going.  In that moment, somehow I know that there is no right answer to this question.  I won’t be getting into this taxi, and no proposed destination could change that.  Why did you stop for me old man?!  And why won’t you take me to St. Marks and Second Avenue?  You are literally a cab driver.  What else do you have going on right now?!?

• When I order delivery and the restaurant provides two or more sets of plastic utensils, as if implying that the amount of food I ordered is not fit for one person alone.  As if I didn’t already know and come to terms with that.

• Carson Daly.

Guess the jokes on me cuz this guy’s rich.

It feels really good to get all that off my chest.  For the curious, the song that inspired it all can be seen and heard here.  Sorry in advance.

 

Headphones In

It seems to be a part of New York City’s culture that most people my age or younger walk around with their headphones in.  It just makes sense with all the commuting we do on foot.  I liken it to listening to the radio in your car; we just don’t have cars and we also need an excuse why not to donate to whatever song and dance act is collecting duckets on public transit between stops.

To avoid having to make small talk with my co-workers, I’ve found that continuing to wear my headphones at my desk once I arrive at work keeps me safely in the grey area between antisocial and highly focused.  Even if all I’m doing is tooling around the internet, I keep my headphones in and my eyes locked on my computer screen while making sure to change my facial expression regularly from intense stare to frustrated scowl to pleased grin to keep up the illusion that I’m working on accomplishing things.

If only…

It’s not that I’m not a social gal, anyone who knows me will agree that I chatter constantly with trusted friends.  I just prefer to keep my private life separate from my professional life as best I can in times like these.  With an election just around the corner and barely up to speed citizens itching to proclaim their political opinion to anyone that will listen, I find it best to keep my thoughts and opinions to myself, and also to block out the sound of others’ sharing theirs.

And so, lately I’ve found a nice mix of songs that is both laid back and upbeat enough to keep my energy level up at my desk as sometimes working and more often pretending to can take a lot out of me.  Here’s what I’ve been listening to these days:

1. Starstruck – Santigold
2. West Coast – Coconut Records
3. Young Blood – The Naked and the Famous
4. Dreams – Fleetwood Mac
5. Walking On A Dream – Empire of the Sun
6. Midnight City – M83
7. Barely Breathing – Duncan Sheik
8. New Work – JJ
9. Everybody Wants to Rule the World – Tears for Fears
10. Tongue Tied – Grouplove
11. Black Balloon – Goo Goo Dolls
12. Let the Drummer Kick – Citizen Cope
13. Garden Grove – Sublime
14. Life On the Nickel – Foster the People
15. Lina Magic – 3D Friends
16. Washed Out – New Theory
17. No Excuses – Alice in Chains
18. Amber – 311
19. Soul Meets Body – Death Cab for Cutie
20. Not Over You – Gavin DeGraw
21. Someone Great – LCD Soundsystem
22. Sometimes – Miami Horror
23. Sweet Disposition – Temper Trap
24. This Place is a Prison – The Postal Service
25. Clocks – Coldplay

And so whether it be avoiding discussions on what used to be considered a private, taboo topic of conversation in public, or simply actually doing your job, I hope you find these songs as helpful in your work day quest as I have!

Sssshhh

 

Class It Up America

I enjoy watching football.  Despite all the things I hear in this day and age about the irreversible damage to players’ minds and bodies, I am able to push that from my mind and watch hoping that everyone stays healthy and safe, and just enjoy one of my favorite pastimes.  But this weekend, while watching an NFL game draw to a close, I saw something that disgusted, disappointed and confused me.  And it wasn’t the actions of a player, a coach or even a ref this time; it was an entire stadium of “fans”, a home crowd coming together to cheer for the same thing, which is usually something that gives me chills and makes me love sport all the more.  Sadly though, this cheering was unprecedented, unwarranted, unethical and just downright despicable. 

The Kansas City Chiefs played the Baltimore Ravens on Sunday, and in the fourth quarter of the game Kansas City’s starting Quarterback, Matt Cassle, went down with a head injury after a huge hit.  As he lay on the field, medical personnel surrounding him after what was very clearly a serious injury to the home team‘s QB, the fans started cheering!

I have over the years seen a home crowd cheering for an opposing team player injury, and when that happens I shake my head, pray for the safety of the player on the field and wish that fans wouldn’t be so senseless, so classless.  This is a game, and that guy lying injured on the field is a person, with a family who cares about him who is watching – probably in that crowd – and he could be facing a life threatening or career ending injury.  At that point team loyalties should fly out the window and your human compassion should come into play, no exceptions.  On the flip side of that, when I see a home crowd cheer for an opponent’s player when they are able to get up and walk off the field after an injury, or when its confirmed that they are at least conscious and going to be ok, my heart swells for American sports, the love of the game, the good things that come from athletics, team sports and sportsmanship.

But in my more than 15 years of watching and participating in organized sports, I have never seen a home crowd cheer for an injury to one of their own.  I was completely blown away with the idiocy behind it.  You want to boo a player for making a mistake, by all means.  Chant his backup’s name when he makes another error, be my guest.  But to see a player on your own team down on the field with a clear head injury, in an era of football where the massive brain damage to long time players is well documented and heavily debated, and to actually cheer for his plight rather than pray that he, as a human being, is going to be ok, is absolutely shameful, disgusting, immoral, senseless and completely classless. 

I don’t know anyone from Kansas City, but I hope this and any other media outlet covering the topic reaches at least one Chiefs fan who was at that game and participated in showing an utter lack of humanity.  I hope it makes them really think about what they’re doing when they watch a sport or a game or a competition of any sort, and to really consider the people in those uniforms and the fact that their sole life purpose isn’t to please fans on the football field, it is to provide for their family, to provide entertainment, to do it in as healthy and safe and elite a manner as possible.  I hope I never see something like that again, in any sport, under any circumstance.  Class it up America.

Chiefs Lineman Chastises Fans for Sickening Behavior

Kansas City Fans Cheer for Cassel Injury

Captivating NYC Headlines

Like many busy New Yorkers, I get most of my news from the headlines that run in the back of our city’s taxis.  This week a few gems stood out, and made me question what exactly qualifies as “news” in one of the world’s largest and most important cities.

This week in NYC’s headlines:

Peacock Spotted Roaming Around Queens

I’m no expert, but I feel that maybe Queens’ journalists should be covering other things.  As riveting as this headline is, someone had to have gotten murdered in Queens that day.  At the very least a driver distracted by the sight of said peacock had to have veered off the road into something.  Dig deeper.

Ramadan Bacon Incident Not A Hate Crime

I don’t know about you, but when I hear ‘bacon incident’ I immediately assume hate crime, discrimination, conspiracy!  So this is a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.

Britney Spears Does Not Have Cold Feet About Wedding

Is this really a headline?  Is any interesting statement followed Yoda style by the word ‘not’ really a fair headline?  It’s one of journalisms’ cruelest tricks.  They lure you in with what seems like an hot bit of information and then snatch it away from you just as you think you’ve got something good.  Maybe let me know next time Miss Spears does something out of the ordinary.

3 Million Bees Seized In Queens “Sting” Operation

Wow. Love the play on words.  Slightly concerned with not one but two ridiculous animal related headlines in Queens this week.

U.S. Open Ref Accused Of Murdering Husband

The story isn’t strange so much as the fact that they felt it necessary to tell us the murderer’s occupation is…

Random Thoughts: Olympic Edition

The Summer Olympics have come and gone, captivating us with their drama, six-packs and overly enthusiastic parents.  Rather than writing daily, I found myself glued to the nearest television, totally enthralled in the spirit of the games.

I thoroughly enjoyed watching these games, certainly much more than the Winter games -who are those people? I can’t see their faces behind all that Northface apparel and watching them makes me shiver.  That being said, I couldn’t help but note that I had a very limited grasp of the rules, policies and general spectator know-how.  I will share my random observances with you tonight, in my triumphant return to regular blogging!

First: Ryan Lochte is hot. 

He is not built like a normal swimmer, and I mean that in the best way possible.  Facially, he makes Michael Phelps look like Sloth, the basement creature in the Goonies.  When the cameramen were kind enough to let me gaze into his aptly blue eyes, I found myself lost in fantasies about buying a home somewhere in the suburbs, fixing it up a la the Notebook and spending our days on our front porch sipping mint juleps…just sayin.

Swoon.

Second: Seemingly no one has ever been as miserable as the Russian gymnastics team. 

Did anyone tell these girls they were participating in the pinnacle of their sport, the Olympics?!  They seemed to alternate between weeping and scowling at all times.  Not a very relatable bunch.  It’s hard to be sympathetic or happy for a troupe that looks like they want to kill you but could have a hysterical breakdown at any moment.

Third: I never knew whether I was watching a quarterfinals, semifinals or actual event. 

I cheered along like crazy wondering why the athletes weren’t more into it, then come to find out the race meant nothing but that I have to sit through the exact same race in a day or two!  Maddening.  I also never knew when I was watching the last lap in a swimming event.  Nevermind the fact that they pretty much disclose the distance in the race title; I only recently learned that one down and back is 100 meters.  I realize now that the one thing that these Olympic games have made all too clear is that I am a complete idiot.  But moving on…

Fourth: The “choreography” between crazy jumps and flips in gymnastics – floor exercise especially – are the most ridiculous bunch of moves I’ve ever seen.

Just stick to the cool stuff and please stop jerking your hands around on front of your face like you’re trying to swat away a swarm of fruit flies.  You look ridiculous and the music you chose is abysmal.

Fifth: Jamaica takes springing seriously. 

I don’t understand why they are so much faster than all other nations combined, but it’s clear that other country’s runner need not apply.  The U.S. held their own in a few events, women’s especially, but for the most part the races were a formality. It seems unfair that Usain Bolt’s last name should be so appropriate…

Sixth: I’ll never not think a diver is going to nail their head on the diving board.

I think this one speaks for itself.  How close does their head come to the edge of the diving board every time?!  It makes me so incredibly anxious as I am still haunted by the Greg Louganis incident.  (While this clearly happened several years before my birth, I – like so many of us – watched the Lifetime Original movie chronicling the life and horrific head hitting incident of American diver Greg Louganis).

Seventh: Announcers are annoying and sound like idiots.

It seemed like the announcers’ only two activities were either telling me that a performance I was marveling at for it’s unrivaled perfection was complete shit for reasons I simply did not see or understand, or trying to convince me that “everyone” referred to an athlete by a completely ridiculous nickname that I’m sure no one has ever called anyone.  The least creative was probably U.S. swimmer Allison Schmitt, allegedly monikered as”the girl they call Schmitty”.  Are you joking?  The most offensive and lease probable has to go to U.S. gymnast Gabi Douglas, who they claimed was known around the gym as “the Flying Squirrel”.  Smh.  There was also “Air Maroney” – mildly convincing given the athleticism of the gymnast in question, McKayla Maroney, but still completely lame.  I wish there was some feature that would mute the announcers without blocking out the noise of the crowd…something to look into.

Eight and Final: No one I know or have ever known is at all athletic when you stack them next to Olympic athletes. 

Sorry guys, we are all pathetic slobs.  Sometimes I freak out just imagining the kind of dedication, focus, physical fitness and mental discipline that is demanded of these athletes.  When’s the last time they has dessert?  A soda?  Alcohol!?!  I hope they are all spending the next month or so just completely wildin’ out on snacks, booze and other such degenerate activities.  Have you ever seen so many women with six-packs?  Is that something that is required by the Olympic Planning Committee?  I’m going to muse about it over a bowl of gelato.

As sad as I am to see the Olympics go, I am keeping cheerful knowing that football season is right around the corner and with it comes a ton of noteworthy observations and rants!

The Flat Ab Challenge – Day 5

Day 5 I decided to cut loose and reward my hard work.  A foolish mistake in retrospect, but all part of the journey of discovering that the reward is not “cheating” with junkfood, but feeling good and looking good.

The day started out the same as always, my hunger was under control as were my cravings, but my body was still aching from the 12 hour work day the day before.   I was mildly invigorated by the promise of a little leeway on my meal plan as the weekend had finally arrived, but I opted for a BluePrint Green Juice to start the day – it’s kind of become a welcome habit.

But by the time lunch hour rolled around I was itching for a number of unhealthy treats.  Burritos, pork dumplings, sandwiches, barbecue; you wouldn’t believe what sort of tricks my mind was playing on me.  I settled on what I thought was a reasonable compromise: a Caprese Panini (fresh mozzerella, tomato, basil, arugula, rosemary and olive oil on focaccia).  I ended up eating just half of it and picking at the mushrooms and sausage in my sweetheart’s pasta dish.  They were sauteed in butter and garlic and tasted divine.  I was careful not to eat any pasta to stay somewhat on the right path, but then I washed it all down with a 100 calorie mini bottle of Coke – totally bad for me and completely un-flat belly friendly, but nothing beats the sweet carbonation of an ice cold Coca Cola.

I was pleased with myself for not eating to the point of extreme fullness and discomfort, so after a while I decided to further indulge on half a slice of chocolate chip Puddin’ Cake.  Gluttonous to say the least.

It didn’t take long for the stomachache to set in, followed shortly thereafter by feelings of regret.  I instantly wished I had never strayed from my meal plan; my stomach was finally starting to look good and I hadn’t suffered my usual nightly stomachache all week.  As I chugged water hoping to sooth my upset stomach, I vowed not to stray again so foolishly.  The cheese on my sandwich – while delicious – was surely at least partially responsible for my stomach issues and in retrospect was not quite as satisfying as I had remembered.  I immediately decided to change my weekend plan of cutting loose with my meal plan, and happily set my mind to stick with it while allowing myseld reasonable exceptions that have no negative side effects, i.e. a serving of crackers with my soup, or even a couple cookies to satiate my sweet tooth.  When I made those exceptions on Day 4 there were no negative side effects, and with a vigorous lifestyle and an intense workout to offset the extra calories my belly shouldn’t be too negatively affected long term.

I set off to the gym come evening feeling pudgy in the belly area from my splurge at lunch and eager to work it off.  I started out with my usual ab workout, 600 crunches of varying sorts, and then ran four miles at a pretty nice pace.  I stretched out well and then did weight training – leg day.  Squats, leg lifts and various toning machines, then another 600 crunches to close out the night.  I felt amazing afterwards, like the damage done at lunch was undone.  I opted for sushi again for dinner, this time with brown rice, and felt good about the day despite my deviating from the meal plan.  It turned out to be just what I needed to keep me on the right track longer term.  Day 6 will be a real test as I’ll be joining friends for dinner at a delicious but not at all healthy restaurant, likely followed by drinks.  We’ll see how well I manage to stick to my guns in the face of a menu boasting various grilled cheese and mac and cheese selections, many of them truffle related…

The Flat Ab Challenge – Day 4

By Day 4 of my Flat Ab Challenge I was feeling like a new woman.  My abs already showed a noticeable change and my unhealthy food cravings had all but stopped.  My appetite had decreased to what I assume is how normal humans feel, thanks to me cutting my portion sizes down from obese to reasonable. 

Work was busy from the minute I stepped foot in the office at 9:30 to the minute I left at 9, and before I knew it, 11:00am rolled around and I had yet to have my breakfast.  I quickly escaped work for the closest juice bar and gulped down my BluePrint Green Juice, again having trouble finishing the whole thing but soldiering most of the way through.

The rest of the day was a blur of work, broken up by a quick salad for lunch (romaine, grilled chicken, carrots, mushrooms, cranberries and Light Italian), and a snack of almonds and raisins late afternoon to sustain my extra long day.  I also grabbed a Naked Protein Smoothie for an on-the-go source of protein when I started feeling fatigued late in the day.  Half the bottle – which is actually one serving – was plenty to fill my stomach and keep me going somewhat strong in 85 degree humidity and unrelenting NYC sun.

After speed walking around, up stairs and down again in the heat for nine hours or so, my legs and I agreed that I would be taking the night off of the gym Day 4.  My lower body was aching and throbbing and my head was fuzzy with names, addresses, numbers and figures.  I needed to kick my feet up and have a good meal, so that’s just what I opted to do. 

I walked in to my apartment and immediately put on a can of soup to simmer. I then decided to treat myself to some Trader Joe’s Social Snackers with dinner. My favorite delicious butter crackers, made with unbleached flour and I think very much earned.

I gobbled down my dinner at lightning speed – ill advised I know but it couldn’t be helped – and rested my aching bones with a tired, bemused smile on my face.  Who would’ve thought that after less than a week 8 plain crackers would be an indulgence?!  I ate cake for breakfast on Sunday for heaven’s sake.  Not proud of that…

I vowed to do a full double ab workout and some at-home toning exercises before the night was over, just to be thorough.  But, before I did that, I allowed myself my first real dessert of the week! Two chocolate chip cookies which I walked downstairs and across the street to fetch, therefore justifying part of the un-flat-belly food I was about to consume.  To my credit, I ate only two of the three in the packet, which four days ago wouldn’t have even been a consideration. 

At the end of the day I went to bed feeling good about the state of my stomach at this point in the Flat Ab Challenge.  I allowed myself a few rewards on Day 4 because I felt I’d reached a point where I wouldn’t be eating them to fulfill an unhealthy, maniacal physical craving, but to enjoy my meal with an out-of-the-ordinary addition or two. A new concept to me entirely, but I’m growing quite fond of moderation, as are my abs. I know the weekend will be the true test of my will power, and next week will hopefully bring with it some more dramatic physical changes, which I’ll be documenting for you to see with your own eyes.  Stay tuned!