There’s that scene in the Devil Wears Prada where Andi is scared she’s turning into a Runway girl. Y’know. Only eats one cup of salad a day, spends more on clothes than on rent and refuses to be caught outside of the house without 4 inches of support in the form of Louboutins.
Well, I’ve been bitten by that bug.
No, really. I’ve learned from the past four months of working at one of the most high fashion magazines in the world that a size 2/4 (aka me) is actually considered overweight in this industry and to avoid being dubbed the ‘smart fat girl’ when I interview for fashion jobs I need to get myself into a gym ASAP and skinny down to my pre-college emaciated self.
For those of you who know me the fact that I’ve become regular gym go-er (coupled with the great blackberry debacle of 2009) is really a sign of the apocalypse but keep in mind this is for my future. Really, it is.
Usually my idea of exercise means eating fat free dip with my chips instead of the full formed goodness—-but now it breaks my heart a little bit to pass the chips aisle at the grocery store. And while it’s been fun to bring white bread and McDonalds into the W office and watch the fashion waifs salivate I’ve decided it’s time to part with my tired and true ways and actually start watching what I eat.
I know, right.
Anyway, in my brief dalliances with the gym in the past I’ve been strictly a cardio girl. An hour on the elliptical (once every three months) the occasional pilates class and there was my brief love affair with bikram yoga…but now that I’m serious I’ve started throwing weights into the mix. Yes, I mean business.
Behold, some of the scariest devices I’ve ever seen (keep in mind I’ve spent the past few weeks researching a story about skin tightening lasers.) After thirty reps of doing a series of things that defy the laws of nature and gravity it generally hurts to breathe.
So far this gym kick has lasted for a week. Usually my kicks only last for two (does anyone remember that time I tried to crochet?) but hopefully this one sticks. If it doesn’t I give you permission to mock me.
No I don’t.
