Tag Archives: exercise

5 Ways Having Kids Makes You Fat

Dieting SUCKS, so there’s usually some triggering event that convinces someone to start eating better.

For a friend of mine, it once was getting thrown out of a roller-coaster line by an attendant twice her size. For me, it’s been arguing with my five-year-old about not actually being pregnant. Because she insists that the last time my belly got SO BIG, she ended up with a baby sister.

the-only-honest-people-in-the-world.jpgShe doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just that toddlers are painfully honest without any grasp of the social ramifications. Like how she keeps playing with grandma’s upper arms because they’re so “fun and squishy.” Or like the other day, when my daughter grabbed a handful of my postpartum belly and asked why it looked like that.

“Because you lived there for year,” I told her. “Your sister too, before you’d even taken down all the staples from your posters.”

She was understandably confused, and I’ll admit leaking a twinge of bitterness into my response. Even though I should know better, because kids say ridiculous, rude things all the time.

It touched a nerve, though, because my jeans are indeed getting tight. I can still CLOSE them, thank you very much, but it’s not super comfortable and results in some sideways flare-out. My husband looks mildly panicked every time I frown at my muffin top, because it could mean all the chocolate is about to vacate the house.

The weird thing is, I actually lost the baby weight from both of my pregnancies within six months. You see, I’d grown up hearing countless women talk about how they used to be so skinny and had such fast metabolisms until they had children and then never managed to regain their pre-pregnancy figures again.

Since I didn’t have a fast metabolism to begin with, the threat of permanent explosion seemed imminent. So I hopped right onto a diet and exercise program as soon as I recovered from childbirth. I knew I had to unleash a Tony Horton-style dictatorship onto those rioting hormones before they swallowed me whole.

And I conquered it LIKE A BOSS. Why? Because I was prepared to fight that estrogen-soaked battle of making people, but knew nothing of the parenting lifestyle’s insidious creep.  It turns out, you still can’t let your guard down once pregnancy is over, because having kids makes it really, really easy to put on weight.

So I’ve been thinking about why this is, and have decided to warn prospective parents about what they’ll be up against:

1-  Kids have really small bodies

Once you have children, you’ll never take a normal, grown-up step again.

See, most of your free time is spent in their company. That means if you walk anywhere on foot, you’ll have to take them with you, usually while holding their hand.

And kid bodies are very small, which means their legs are really tiny. They can’t walk at a grown-up pace. If you try to walk like a normal person, the child will trip on the sidewalk, smack their face on the ground, begin screaming and make everyone stare at you in horror like you’re a monster who won’t wait for your kids.

So, you’ll have to start walking at the pace of someone with ten-inch legs. It’s slow, even without accounting for them being mesmerized by the mysteries of sidewalk grooves or the life-freezing eurekas of passing thought, both of which will occur approximately every 15 seconds because kids really don’t care about getting somewhere on time.

Clearly, strollers would seem to be the obvious answer here, except they mean sacrificing the exercise your pent-up toddlers so desperately need. I’ve seen far too many √ľber-fit moms pushing grumpy, pudgy 8-year-olds in strollers to think strollers are a good idea once the kiddos can walk.

2.  Kids take ages to get through everyday activities

You’ll take seven hours to cross the street and LIKE it!
Things that used to take 30 seconds now take 10 minutes, if not half the morning. Things like just putting on shoes and walking out of the house.

You used to just grab your keys and walk out the door, but now you’ve got to clean up, change someone, and lace their shoes up, assuming that locating shoes doesn’t become it’s own drawn-out detective saga, or that said child isn’t naked, which are both wildly optimistic assumptions when parenting.

Remember how I said kids get mesmerized by sidewalk cracks? Apply that same principle to eating a meal or exiting a vehicle…

You’ve unsnapped their car seats, you’ve opened their door, and  you’re now standing on the side of the car while they stare blankly into space. “Okay sweetie, time to get out of the car,” you say.

So they take a step forward and start messing with the parking brake. Thirty seconds go by and you’re telling them, “Don’t mess with that, sweetheart. It’s time to get out of the car now.”

And then they step onto the doorframe, hold the back of the front seat with one hand, then stare at the ground with all the intensity of someone trying to solve the Palestinian crisis. They just keep standing there, as you look at your watch.

It’s all you can do, at this point, to not scream, “GET OUT OF THE DAMN CAR,”  except you’ve read about how vitally important it is to never, ever rush a child through trying to do something. Because rushing your kid means being impatient, which makes them feel incompetent, eventually destroying their self-esteem and leaving them sobbing in the women’s bathroom a decade from now, right after their pole-shifts, wondering where it all went wrong.

If only frustration burned calories.

3.  Because kids want to eat garbage

Before I had kids, I used to go to the farmer’s market to find fresh, seasonal produce with which to make elaborate meals from scratch. In fact, my insistence on unprocessed food was once a bone of contention with my Hot-pocket-eating boyfriend (later my husband).

I assumed I’d keep my lifestyle up after the kids were born, neither envisioning how much less energy I’d have, nor my frustration at seeing a thousand carefully-prepared meals splatter against the wall.

Or how desperate I’d be to keep the kids from rioting. Ideally, I’d love to feed the kids healthy food, all the time. I do still try, but it’s hard to keep throwing money and time at meals that end up in the garbage when literally every television channel and store display is flashing cartoon utopias of brightly-colored garbage that’s so much easier and cheaper.

You’ll also find yourself in the grocery store with a wound-up kid and a dozen reproachful eyes, just waiting for the looming meltdown, while knowing you could either put a stop to it all with a 50 cent treat, or hold your ground through yet another public episode of overwhelmed-mom-with-the-tantruming kids.

The struggle is real. And sometimes I cave.

4.  Because kids don’t eat much

You know how you finish your lunch because you paid for it and you don’t want to throw your food away, only to get hungry an hour later and have to pay for something else?

Yeah, kids don’t worry about that. They don’t care what you just spent on their dinner when you’re eating out and will push it aside then literally start throwing a fit about being “so hungry,” 20 minutes later.

You’d think a few rounds of “Well, you should’ve eaten your dinner then, because I’m not not getting you any more food” would fix that, but they’re surprisingly stubborn. Because kids always plan roughly five minutes ahead of wherever they are now. They don’t remember how hungry they ended up being last night and won’t apply that lesson to this evening. Sometimes I’m amazed the human race is still around.

Even when they DO eat, it’s frequently only a tiny bit. I’ve watched my daughter suck the chocolate out of a croissant, pick the croutons out of a salad, lick the parmesan off pasta, and pick the Shake-n-bake coating off pork chops before loudly declaring that she was done.

My husband cleans up our kids’ leftovers like a champ. It just sucks too much to spend your hard-earned money on a meal that ends up only two tablespoons lighter, so my husband takes one for the team by polishing off the rest. Problem is, I’ve noticed him pushing the kids to order something he really likes an awful lot.  Which makes sense, because you may as well order something you like if you’re going to end up eating most of it… except it’s a slippery slope from being thrifty to eating an extra, fatty meal because you “have” to.

Most of these meals, I notice, involve a lot of melted cheese. On the plus side, he’s really been leaning on our 3-year-old to practice her silverware, because who wants to polish off a meal someone’s massaged with booger-hands?

5.  Your own habits start to backslide

So… you find yourself ordering increasingly empty-caloried garbage in hopes that your kids will possibly eat it, then polishing off said garbage so you won’t feel like you just set your wallet on fire.

You find yourself keeping a few more boxes of cookies around too, because it’s so helpful to have little rewards handy for when your kids finally pick up all their Legos and use an appropriate receptacle to pee into.

And after a while, that kale & quinoa salad isn’t looking so appetizing to you either. I’m not sure it ever really did, but it’s a lot easier to lie to yourself without all this peer pressure.

You get used to meandering along, taking 45 minutes to do what used to take you 10.

You’re the reason my pants don’t fit, you little bald monster!
Plus, you may be eating a few more chocolates now, because it’s the only vice you’re still allowed. I mean, after you’ve put all that drinking, swearing, and watching violent movies aside, what else can you do?. Who doesn’t want to stuff their face after 300 hours of Caillou?

Either way, these are some of the health pitfalls to watch out for after you move into a lifestyle with kids.

It’s tough, but I’m sure we can overcome it: start following an exercise program and letting the kids get hungry enough to choke down some well-balanced meals. Remind my husband to stop ordering out for pizza or bringing home fast food before we’re shelling out for whole new wardrobes of pants…

Wish me luck ūüôā


Getting Fat and Dealing With French Condescension

I haven’t been keeping up with my blog for the past few weeks and ho boy, did¬†the comments, postings and emails blow¬†up. It’s like that old episode of I Love Lucy where Lucy lets everything pile up on the chocolate factory, only I wasn’t seeing the chocolates threatening to avalanche because it was all happening in the mystical, invisible¬†land¬†of the internet.

lucy.jpgSo, today I literally tackled 4000 emails. They weren’t entirely my blog’s fault because I also spent half the day unsubscribing from various marketing assembly lines, which was a dragon whose slaying was long overdue.

I mean, what else was going¬†to happen to an openminded, very curious (likely undiagnosed attention-disordered) ¬†woman like myself? SURE, I’d love¬†to learn about the world of cycling and how runners should eat. How about the mysteries of ancient civilizations and Abraham Lincoln’s private letters while we’re at it? Of COURSE, I want to hear about whenever your breakthrough mascaras that will change my life forever go on sale (shockingly perfect¬†eyelashes -> ? -> perfect life!) And WOW, you’ll tell me whether I have a fire, air, earth or water personality¬†with your free quiz if I just enter my email that you promise not to share with anyone? (So weird, because Six Flags over Georgia keeps telling me about their promotions, though I’m almost positive I never asked).

frenchsnob.pngAaaaand on top of that, I started taking a French class with my mom and working out early in the morning, which screws up my powerfully creative middle-of-the-night writing time more than you’d expect. You see, mom and I thought I would be nice to do something together, like take a French film class. Except she’s a retired French teacher and I… well, I learned some French from hearing her speak it when I was little and later studied it in school, but I haven’t used it in quite some time. Picking a class that would neither bore mom¬†to tears nor be ridiculously over my head was a true¬†challenge.

So, I took a placement test and according to the Alliance Francaise, I’m an Advanced Intermediate, but it hardly feels that way when I’m watching French war films from the 60’s, paying extremely close attention to everyone’s body language in the desperate hope¬†¬†of figuring out a gnat’s wing of context, and reading out French dialogues in class while feeling about as ashamed as I’d imagine feeling after¬†just peeing on the public floor. (Why do they have to talk SO FAST!?)

The entire class is in French, including the instructions, and while I understand about 87% of it, I nevertheless¬†have to hear myself answering the teacher in cavewoman grunts while watching her look at me with that pained, patronizing expression that means she’s pretending that I don’t sound like an idiot so I won’t get discouraged. When it’s just too rough, I occasionally break into English again, whereupon she looks mildly startled by my capacity for abstract reasoning, as though she’d assumed¬†my aching attempts at normal French conversation reflected my general aptitude. This must be how blind people feel when others shout at them in slow, simple language. Or immigrants, when natives assume that their fractured grammar represents how¬†their whole brain operates.

Eh, I complain because it’s entertaining, but I’m actually enjoying this class a great deal. I like being forced to learn something new. You see, I spend most of my time around toddlers, and while I love my kids to pieces and cherish the time I spend with them, it’s not exactly an intellectual challenge, right about now. For example, I spent the bulk of¬†today’s¬†afternoon helping my 3-year-old practice writing her name, which consisted of her randomly scribbling on a paper then looking really proud of her alphabet mastery. Essentially, she was me in French class, except she’s blissfully unaware of how far off she is, whereas I can’t help but catch every micro-condescension in my French teacher’s eyes.

But in addition to taking the French class, I’ve also started waking up early to work out. You may be wondering why, given my obvious night-owl tendencies…

You see, I decided to start exercising more and eating better after my five-year-old started asking me if she was going to get a new baby sister.

“No,” I told her. “Daddy and I are happy with two girls. We aren’t going to have another baby.”

“But your belly is sooo…¬†BIG. Like when you were making Bridget.”


“No, I’m not having another baby.”

“But it’s getting BIGGER and BIGGER!”

Frankly, I think she’s being a bit of a weight Nazi, because I’ve only put on around ten pounds or so.

Maybe 15. Okay, maybe it’s 15 and I happen to think 15 pounds from skinniness is a little premature to start asking your mom whether she’s¬†pregnant. Still, I read something about how only yoga pants and toddlers tell the truth and figure if your belly is getting big enough for your kids to notice it, it’s probably time to jump on it before it becomes a larger issue.

And it could be worse, given that¬†she’s also been asking her dad if he’s making her a baby brother, since she assumes¬†women make girls while¬†men make boys. Which makes primitive sense, assuming¬†you don’t fully understand the process.

So, I’ve recently embarked on a P90x exercise routine in the mornings, because doing it anytime later throws off my entire¬†day, as well as a bold attempt at eating better. The whole process has made me reflect on how much easier it is to get fat and out of shape once you have kids.

I plan to talk about it in my next posting.









I Don’t Think Babies Know They Are Cute

One of Bront√ę’s many unsuccessful attempts to be intimidating.

I found this post in my drafts, nearly forgotten, and decided I didn’t want to forget the epic tale of Bront√ę’s first heist. So I’m throwing it in now,  even though it’s out of sequence:

If babies had any idea how cute they are, they would work that angle for all it’s worth. With a face like that, a well-timed smile could get people to sign over their cars or houses. Ever seen someone accidentally make a baby laugh by ripping paper or doing some other random thing? It thrills people so much that they will repeat that same action over and over  and over again until it quits working with no less enthusiasm than a laboratory chimp banging a lever for cocaine hits.

Yet babies seem oblivious to their Incredible Powers of Cuteness. You can tell by the look on Bronte’s face as she sits in my lap in the photo. She is defiant, even territorial. Her face says, “Don’t even THINK of trifling with me. I will MESS YOU UP.” Clearly, she not only means to intimidate but also has utterly no idea how tiny she is.

“I’m making new friends and learning how to socialize. I’m so NOT ripping off this other kid.”
Huggies commercials would have us believe that babies lead a simple life of babbling, crawling, and blue-peeing, but there is so much more going on in those cherubic little heads. Take the photo at the right, for example. This scene is not what it appears. Little babies making friends, you might think… babbling, socializing, mirroring one other. But this is actually a rare snapshot of Bront√ę’s first heist. See the plastic keys between them? Plastic keys are a very high-value item in baby currency, and the ones in the photo belong to that other kid.

I watched this entire scene unfold while working out in one of those mother-and-baby exercise classes. Bront√ę, on the left, was given a bunch of fun stuffed animals to play with, but apparently some plastic keys caught her eye. So, she cozies up to the little baby key-owner (let’s call her “Betty”) and starts making cute faces. Bront√ę takes her right hand and starts wiggling her fingers in Betty’s face while her left hand reaches over to the keys, grabs them, and smoothly slides them under her own blanket. She then continues to play with Betty until Betty gets distracted and turns away, at which point Bront√ę returns to her blanket, pulls out the stolen keys, and starts playing with them.

Really?? If Bront√ę had just grabbed the keys, right off the bat, I would’ve assumed she is too young to understand the concept of ownership and was just happily responding to primary colors, but this was clearly deliberate.  She saw something she wanted and cooked up a plan to steal it, using sleight-of-hand with her finger distraction, and had the wherewithal to put the keys away for later use, only digging into them once the owner had left. This was a multi-step plan. Aren’t babies supposed to have an attention span of about 30 seconds?

Watching this play out, I was equal parts impressed and frightened. On the one hand, Bront√ę’s problem-solving abilities must show great intelligence, but on the other… well, she pulled off a multi-step robbery and is not even six months old. Holy crap! What kind of shenanigans am I in for when she gets older and more cunning??

I guess I will have to tackle that as it happens, and in the meantime, try to raise her well enough that she channels her talents into positive endeavors instead of ending up a mafia godmother. Or drug empire kingpin (queen pin?).

I will leave you with this adorable photo of Bront√ę’s aunt reveling in the cuteness of a baby with mouse ears. Bront√ę, on the other hand, felt the overalls and mouse ears were not doing much to bolster her “street-smart” image.

Bronte is certain she would be far more intimidating without the ridiculous hat.
“I am certain I would be far more intimidating without the ridiculous hat.”

Bridget Makes it Through an Entire Exercise Class Without Screaming

Bridget holds it together.
Bridget holds it together.

Today is a banner day. It’s the day Bridget made it through an entire exercise class without screaming.

I’ve been taking her to work out with me at Herself Moms, in Roseville (there is also a Sacramento studio). I also took Bront√ę until she started crawling around so wildly that it was no longer feasible, and she still remembers it fondly.

I highly recommend it. When you have a newborn at home, you really need to get out of the house. I know, I know… you’re absolutely exhausted and it feels like going to an exercise class might be the final¬†Jenga¬†piece that tumbles the entire¬†structure, but trust me. It’s good for you.

Its healthy to get out and be with other people. Classes like these are also designed to help get you back into shape after pregnancy without injuring you (cause squeezing a watermelon out of your body takes a toll). You get emotional support from other women who know exactly what you’re going through, and this place is even pro-breastfeeding. Seriously pro-breastfeeding. I mean, if your baby cries, you can whip your boob out and feed your baby without anyone batting an eye.

Some moms even hang around afterwards to nurse their babies in a circle while talking about whatever issues they are having. I get the feeling tribal women used to do this and it helped them emotionally handle the rigors of parenting. Now, we too often end up isolated at home, dealing with the stress by ourselves.

But possibly the best thing about this place is that if your baby throws a fit, it’s okay. You’re in a room with lots of newborns that periodically throw fits, so you don’t have to be embarrassed by or feel self-conscious about your baby acting up. Mamas constantly stop their exercise routine to nurse, change, comfort, or walk around the room their babies.

That being said, Bridget was special. Julie, the owner (who is a lot of fun), has seen a lot of babies in her line of work, and she said Bridget was one of the most temperamental babies she had ever seen. I think it was two weeks before I got to exercise much at all.

But she slowly got used to it, and today… she made it through an entire class without screaming. I couldn’t be happier. I’m also much more sore than usual, having had to actually do proper exercise¬†this time.

I had to take a picture to capture her moment of triumph. Bridget may look like she’s relaxing, but she’s also working out. She’s doing a plank and modified cobra while skillfully working an acupressure point on her thumb.

Date Night Unexpectedly Becomes Anti-Vegan Propaganda

Tom Cruise plans to hang off the outside of planes well into his 80's.
Tom Cruise plans to hang off the outside of planes well into his 80’s.

Since my folks have graciously offered to watch the girls for an evening a week, every Friday is date night for John and I. This is a fantastic arrangement I would recommend to all parents, if possible, because it lets our kids regularly spend time with their grandparents and gives us a weekly break.

Let’s face it: as much as you adore your children, they are a lot of work and consume a huge amount of attention. Taking an occasional breather helps you be a better parent and strengthens your relationship. It’s good to spend some quality time with your partner without being on constant alert, in perpetual hyper-vigilant parent mode.

Our routine usually consists of dinner and a movie. We recently signed up for MoviePass to save a little money, and I am getting no kickbacks for¬†endorsing them¬†(though I would be very open to kickbacks. Did you hear that, MoviePass?). Anyhoo, John and I have different film tastes, so we take turns picking¬†the movie each week. One week will be a romantic comedy, the next a superhero film, the next a crusty British period drama, and the next a bank heist… you get the idea. This system has served us well. Not only do we spare ourselves endless bickering, but we also end up sometimes loving the movie our partner picked, which we would probably never¬†have otherwise seen. For example, we saw¬†Trainwreck last week, and John thought it was hysterical.

This week was John’s pick, so we saw¬†Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation.¬†It was a lot of fun, even if a couple scenes crossed the line from improbable to ridiculous, but I’m not here to talk about the relative merits of that movie. No, I feel the more urgent topic here is the dramatic difference between¬†how Tom Cruise and Alec Baldwin are aging.

I realize some people think Tom Cruise has aged out of the Mission Impossible series, but while I was watching the movie, I couldn’t help but think,¬†Holy crap, that man is in his 50’s!¬†He looks freakin’ incredible! He is in amazing shape, and only has¬†a few fine lines about¬†the eyes. I believe he could easily pass for a man in his early 30’s.

On the other hand, time has been less kind to Alec Baldwin. I hate to pick on the guy, because I think he’s a wonderful actor and I loved him on¬†30 Rock.¬†But he could easily play¬†Tom Cruise’s father (a father with distinguished good looks, but his father, nonetheless). So, I googled their birthdays to find out¬†the¬†actual age difference between them, and¬†holy crap,¬†Alec Baldwin is only four years older than Tom Cruise. Not enough to merit a generational difference, to be certain. Tom¬†is 53 and Alec is 57.

What makes this all so surprising for me is the fact that, in my opinion, Alec used to be so much hotter than Tom. Because of intellectual property issues and copyright law, I can’t just post a bunch of early Alec Baldwin photos, but google him. The man was an Adonis… the type that could make you forget your name with a single¬†intense flash of those smoldering blue eyes. He started off ahead of Tom, so we can’t just dismiss the difference¬†to superior¬†genetics. At this point, Alec is still pleasant looking, but slap an abrasive personality on those looks instead of his confidant charisma, and no one would look at him twice.

Tom, on the other hand, is a damn fine-looking man, even if his couch-leaping Oprah antics make him seem a bit insane. I found myself wondering what the hell he does to stay in such good condition after so many years. After all, his iconic Risky Business dance took place in 1983. That’s more than¬†thirty years ago. Most current hot guys weren’t even born yet.

The easy answer is that Tom is super rich and can afford plastic surgery, botox, dietitians, and personal trainers. True, but isn’t that also the case with so many¬†other celebrities? Like, for instance… Alec Baldwin? Not all A-listers¬†are faring as well as Tom, despite their special access to perks.

There are a countless number of different diets touted by the media, nutrition¬†experts, and various stars. You’ve got low-fat, low-carb, Paleo, vegetarian, vegan, anti-gluten, anti-dairy, Dukkan, Atkins, calorie restriction… they are not only different, but mutually exclusive. Countless fitness and beauty magazines feature gorgeous celebrities on the cover, who answer detailed questions about dietary preferences and exercise habits in the inside articles.

The problem with these interviews is that the celebrities are so often in their early to mid twenties. Young bodies can be pretty forgiving. In college, I knew loads of people who looked terrific despite living off Top Ramen, takeout pizza and six-packs of cheap beer. Lifestyle choices simply hadn’t caught up to them yet.

So to figure out the best way to cheat time, I want to read about the regimens of folks who still look incredible after¬†their contemporaries have started¬†resembling a melted-candle version of their former selves, not the fickle food fads of babies. Take veganism, for example… maybe it’s the way to go, but it scares me. There aren’t enough examples of people who remained vegans for decades. Maybe it keeps you young, or maybe it just makes young people skinny while nutritional deficiencies add up like termites munching at your very foundations until the whole building collapses by midlife. Pamela Anderson isn’t looking so hot these days. Michelle Pfeiffer looks good, but she’s a recent convert. Maybe veganism is a lot like tanning: it looks great now, but you’re gonna be sorry twenty years later.

Maybe Tom has figured out the fountain of youth. At the very least, I decided to do an internet search of Tom’s and Alec’s set and fitness regimes, hoping that the differences might reveal some answers…

Most of what I found about Tom’s diet came from sketchy sites with lots of misspelled words, as though the author was neither a native speaker, nor had the means to employ one. Hardly the sort of person that has a special pass to celebrity secrets. All the info I could glean from more reputable sources consisted of:

  1. Tom using his buddy David Beckham’s plan, which consisted of a 1200 calorie diet made up of lean proteins (chicken and fish), fruits and vegetables,
  2. His personal chef cooked for the cast of¬†Mission Impossible, Cast member Simon Pegg said they ate things like,”incredible stews and chorizo, these dates that were stuffed with peanut butter and sprinkled with coconut.” And apparently, cast members would “break” by eating chocolates left on their hotel pillows: “They would ask each other¬†‘Did you eat your chocolates?’ But Tom never did. Tom is disciplined to a T. It’s amazing.”
  3. He works out a lot.

Hmm. Not a ton of information to go off of here, but the lean meats, fish, and chorizo suggests Tom is definitely not a vegetarian or vegan. His refusal to touch hotel chocolates suggests he stays away from refined sugars, and I didn’t notice any refined carbs on these lists. The chorizo and peanut butter suggest he doesn’t avoid fats… could he be Paleo? Dates and coconuts are sweet, but they are natural sugars. Dairy wasn’t mentioned. The Beckham method of meats, fruits and veggies would fit into the Paleo system.

In contrast, let’s look at what Alec has been eating. Apparently, he was vegetarian for many years since he was married to Kim Bassinger (famously vegetarian). This isn’t looking good for vegetarians, though we really have no idea what kind of vegetarian Alec was. For all we know, Alec was eating french fries and ice cream all day, which would still make him a vegetarian.

Alec married an inappropriately younger woman a few years back, which made him more conscious of his physical condition. He lost 35 pounds, saying he avoided added sugar and started using soy milk. Maybe the soy milk speaks to his previously veggie lifestyle. At least he agrees with Tom about the evils of added sugar.

On Alec’s exercise he has apparently lost a lot of weight for his young wife using pilates an yoga, in contrast to Tom’s resistance training (more Paleo-inspired clues). I’m partial to yoga and pilates, since I do them myself and have seen great results, but again, Alec’s physique is no match for Tom’s. Alec’s neck is now wider than his head.

Based on this admittedly limited data, I’m going to have to award¬†a point to the Paleo team. Or at the very least, I have to conclude that a well-balanced carnivorous diet beats out a sloppy vegetarian one. I’m anxiously awaiting what life lessons can be gleaned from next week’s flick.