2011 2nd Annual Ass-Off

Yes, the time has come again for (drumroll)... my Annual Spring Ass-Off.

Last year, I went with the scary and possibly carcinogenic Chinese diet pill: Guangzhou’s Super Slim fruit capsules. All the little foil wrappers were in Chinese and Russian. What I said:

I’m on day four and I pretty much haven’t slept since I started these things up, so I’m beginning to think this shit has something in it besides kiwi, konicing nut (does this actually exist in nature?) and sweet potato fiber. My friend Nina from Argentina says we must persevere despite the fact that her husband is wondering why she’s cleaning the bathroom at three in the morning (also, isn’t Argentina known for having the highest rates of cosmetic surgery or something?) (ed. note: nah, that's Brazil).

For the record, I also let Nina talk me into buying a pair of those embarrassing Skechers Shape-Ups (previously mocked here) that purport to tighten and tone without having to go to the gym. They are actually pretty comfortable, and also a walking testament to my own credulity and vanity.

So far here's my report on the mysterious Chinese "fruit capsules": pants are getting looser and I’m eating well--I just don’t have much of an appetite. Also, I haven’t slept in days, have a colony growing in my cotton mouth, and I'm probably on the verge of a major coronary. Will I have to head to a methadone clinic by next month? Stay tuned.

This year, I'm forsaking the pharmaceuticals (although that shit did kind of work), in favor of spring training with my twelve-year-old coach. This morning was our first run and my peeps actually had the NERVE to measure my butt beforehand so we can chart my progress, or lack thereof. They all gathered in the bathroom for the blessed event (after that religion post, I'm feeling temporarily cured of my agnosticism, btw).

Anyway, the run. According to my trainer, what I do doesn't actually qualify. Our trip round Prospect Park consisted of the pasha sprinting by me with arms in the victory position, stalking me while playing assassin, and the stifled snorts of other runners as they overheard the kid saying shit like:

"Mom, there are 80-year-olds passing you."

and

"I didn't think it was possible to run that slow and still be moving."

and

"Clocking in at one mile an hour."

and

"Feel the burn," "You can do it," and "Your butt is melting away already."

Fuck him right in his fucking pretty Bieber face. That's right! I said it, little man. Justin Bieber. Actually, that's what the younger has been calling him of late. He calls her Chucky, which she thinks stands for Chuck E. Cheese. 

As a sign of my commitment, I made the not-Bieb run through the Nethermead and the Veil of Cashmere with me. And it's a miracle we made it out alive because there are some sketchy-looking ornithologists in those parts.

His feedback: You need to run faster. A lot faster if you want to be bikini-worthy anytime soon.

Now I'm thinking I need to cut back on my carb intake too, which is just too painful to even contemplate. How do people LIVE without baguettes and pasta. Forget it, I'll just eat less. That's the ticket.

If this plan fails, I can always go with my fall-back option, reported last week over at Gothamist: Inject Hormone From Pregnant Ladies' Urine to Lose Weight.

Well, we certainly have plenty of supplies around here but... really? Apparently so.

Women across America "are streaming into doctors’ offices and weight-loss clinics" and paying upward of $1,000 a month for syringes and a supply of the pregnancy hormone hCG, the NY Times reports in a fascinating article about the diet trend. 

"From an anecdotal point of view, physicians all around the country have seen people losing a tremendous amount of weight with this stuff, and you cannot afford to ignore that," says society doctor Lionel Bissoon, who cannot afford to ignore the $1,150 he gets from each patient who starts up his hCG program.

Okay, open post on ass-offs. Are you doing one of those tot lot bootcamp classes? Wearing those frightening new horny-toed shoes? Speed walking by me? Which gym do you like best these days? Any favorite kick boxing/yoga/pilates instructor? Weigh in, peeps (figuratively).