Detox
Do you ever get sucked in by infomercials? I do. There have been several that have gotten me--usually exercise equipment (Taebo; the bun & thigh rocker; some crazy small exercise ball I can't even remember the name of but popped within a month). I always want to believe whatever the cheesy exercise guru of the moment wants to tell me. "Tighter abs!" "Rock hard buns!" "Get fit while having fun!"
So when I met Tony Horton, it was instant love.
I was sitting in the nail salon, having a pedicure while sitting in one of those giant, comfortable massage chairs that they let you control. Having nothing to look at (other than my toes, of course) I ended up zoning out while staring at the giant flatscreen TVs mounted on the far wall. The program they had tuned to? Nothing other than an hour-long infomercial for Mr. Horton's newest program, 10 minute Trainer. A series of 10 moves in 10 minutes! You'll have a hot bod in no time! He's trained CEOs and grandmas with this routine, and look at 'em now! Who doesn't have 10 minutes!
Even the woman scrubbing on my feet knew it was a bad idea, shaking her head and clucking at me as I stared, mesmerized. Of course I bought it. (I won't say how much I paid for it. But at least I found the best price I could.)
This weekend, I finally decided it was time to bust out Tony's advice. One handy little thing he included, in addition to the videos, tension rope, door attachment and weight belt, was his "10-day lean jean program." It's essentially a 10-day diet and exercise regimen designed to provide you with the optimal balance of proteins and carbs that will maximize a short but intense workout period. He touts it as a great way to kick off a healthier eating and exercise routine. And so, like any good lemming, that's what I'm doing.
I'm into Day 2 of what I'm calling the Detox program (I've noticed that people react a little more favorably when you pose it that way instead of calling it a "diet"). I made it through Day 1--surprisingly--without having terrible pangs of hunger. There's something to this balance of carbs and proteins. I stood at a colleague's desk for 15 minutes and didn't once have an urge to grab one of the Dove dark chocolates out of her goody bin. I will say that once I got home at the end of the day and made my dinner, I started to crave everything except the food I was making--the banana on the table looked good, the box of crackers was calling my name, that last soda that I didn't get around to finishing before I started... But I resisted.
This morning, however, was different. The breakfast meal on the card was nothing less than my very first ever protein shake.
Worst. Thing. Ever.
This thing is so nasty that I'm still trying to choke it down almost a full hour later. In theory, it shouldn't be so bad... ice, milk, strawberries, vanilla flavored protein powder. But really, I think that powder gives it this extra barf factor, like licking the erasers after scrubbing a particularly dirty chalkboard. Seriously. I don't know how competitive athletes can drink this stuff. The worst part of it is, I think there is one of these things on the diet at least every other day.
It's going to be a long 10 days.
So when I met Tony Horton, it was instant love.
I was sitting in the nail salon, having a pedicure while sitting in one of those giant, comfortable massage chairs that they let you control. Having nothing to look at (other than my toes, of course) I ended up zoning out while staring at the giant flatscreen TVs mounted on the far wall. The program they had tuned to? Nothing other than an hour-long infomercial for Mr. Horton's newest program, 10 minute Trainer. A series of 10 moves in 10 minutes! You'll have a hot bod in no time! He's trained CEOs and grandmas with this routine, and look at 'em now! Who doesn't have 10 minutes!
Even the woman scrubbing on my feet knew it was a bad idea, shaking her head and clucking at me as I stared, mesmerized. Of course I bought it. (I won't say how much I paid for it. But at least I found the best price I could.)
This weekend, I finally decided it was time to bust out Tony's advice. One handy little thing he included, in addition to the videos, tension rope, door attachment and weight belt, was his "10-day lean jean program." It's essentially a 10-day diet and exercise regimen designed to provide you with the optimal balance of proteins and carbs that will maximize a short but intense workout period. He touts it as a great way to kick off a healthier eating and exercise routine. And so, like any good lemming, that's what I'm doing.
I'm into Day 2 of what I'm calling the Detox program (I've noticed that people react a little more favorably when you pose it that way instead of calling it a "diet"). I made it through Day 1--surprisingly--without having terrible pangs of hunger. There's something to this balance of carbs and proteins. I stood at a colleague's desk for 15 minutes and didn't once have an urge to grab one of the Dove dark chocolates out of her goody bin. I will say that once I got home at the end of the day and made my dinner, I started to crave everything except the food I was making--the banana on the table looked good, the box of crackers was calling my name, that last soda that I didn't get around to finishing before I started... But I resisted.
This morning, however, was different. The breakfast meal on the card was nothing less than my very first ever protein shake.
Worst. Thing. Ever.
This thing is so nasty that I'm still trying to choke it down almost a full hour later. In theory, it shouldn't be so bad... ice, milk, strawberries, vanilla flavored protein powder. But really, I think that powder gives it this extra barf factor, like licking the erasers after scrubbing a particularly dirty chalkboard. Seriously. I don't know how competitive athletes can drink this stuff. The worst part of it is, I think there is one of these things on the diet at least every other day.
It's going to be a long 10 days.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home