Flabby Arm Girl

I am an Exercise Science major. Do I love it? No. Do I like it? Most days. One of the prerequisites for my major, which I unfortunately overlooked, is Jock 101. The Exercise Science major has the following demographic. 45% are BYU athletes, 55% could be BYU athletes.

Do I have anything against jocks? Generally no. I have yet to meet a fellow classmate who I whole heartedly detest. The thing about it is being in this major is a reminder every single day that I am an uncoordinated nerd who should be writing an anthropological thesis instead of studying the physiological development of skeletal muscle.

I had a lab today entitled "How Fat Are You?" (The department tried to make it sound more scientific by calling it "Lab 3: Body Composition"). I would say I have a generally healthy body image. I would be lying if I said I never have those "whale days". Those days where I consume so much chocolate (amongst other supremely healthy food items) that I begin to feel as if a whale might mistake me for a possible mate. BUT I do really love my body. It is magnificent how many wonderful things it does every single day. One thing I have always found funny about our society is how one shouldn't ever talk highly of their body. If you receive a compliment about your body, you must immediately point out something that is amiss or insist the complimenter is mistaken. One must also never point out to another that they are looking heavier than normal. Other cultures are so much more open about this aspect. I think it is because those of other cultures don't have this twisted American ideology that worth is directly tied to weight. Whoops! Getting off topic...this is not a commentary on skewed societal ideologies.

My lab is taught by a graduate student in Exercise Physiology. She is also an extreme swimmer who told us at the beginning of class that she has 9% body fat. As she was explaining how to to measure a skin fold with a caliper, she decided she needed someone to help her demonstrate. She began to scan the room for a possible subject.

Soccer player. Soccer player. Football player. Swimmer. Swimmer. Aha-the black sheep.

Instructor: "Ah. You-blue t-shirt girl. Could you come up here please?"

All of my fellow classmates swiveled to look at the person she was referring to. I looked behind my praying she was referring to someone else. Alas, no one was behind me :(

I walked grudgingly to the front of the classroom.

Instructor: "Aw you have the perfect arms for this (aka, your arm resemble an oversized bat wing). Please turn your back to the class.

I waited for the dodgeballs to mercilessly pound the back of my head, but instead something much worse happened. My instructor pinched my arm fat with a caliper and then proceeded to jiggle my arm around.

Instructor: "Now most of you will have to be more aggressive in grabbing the fat because there might be as much on your partner's arms. If there is, you should be able to jiggle it a bit like I did to loosen the layer of fat from the muscle"

I walked back to my chair hoping my arms would fall off.

I know I am supposed to be in this major, but sometimes I really, really wish my classes didn't emphasize the art of arm fat jiggling. Who knows though. Maybe zombies will attack someday and me and my flabby arms will take flight while the muscle bound athletes get their brains eaten.

Lobotomized

I have occasionally wondered how different I would be if I had a lobotomy. Would there actually be much of a difference? After today, I have come to answer that there would be a huge difference. My lobotomized self would likely have more common sense. I would probably just sit around and drool instead of deciding to cut my own hair with the kitchen scissors.

This is not a new event unfortunately. In my desperation to have the trendy new side bangs for my high school graduation, I took the kitchen scissors and ensured I was the hottest human at graduation. Which is obvious from this stunning photo

Please notice those impressive chunks of hair emphasizing my cool factor. If I wasn't so amazing at school, then I would probably pursue a career in hairdressing with an emphasis on bang cutting. (Just a quick update on my academics: I have to take my nutrition test tomorrow and abnormal psych on Monday. I dare you to ask me how much studying I got done yesterday while watching Dr. Who with Sel)

Moving on to today's incident. Last night, I had a dream I kept trying

to cut my hair with a pizza cutter while Sel explained how his high school girlfriend was abusive. After I woke up, I continued to think about my dream. Not even an AMAZING pancake breakfast cooked by Sel or scarring all my students with my favorite lecture on gender could make me forget about it. I knew what I had to do and there was no denying it; I had to chop off the end of my braid with all of it's evil split ends. After taking my hair out of it's braid, I realized my hair was lopsided. I decided to try and make it even which led to this:

and some of this

I am a genius

Sel called me just as I was about to chop off my bangs in the similar fashion to how I cut my American Girl Doll's hair. These are the thoughts that went through my head

"What if I don't tell him what I just did and just keep my hair in an eternal ponytail?"

"I bet he won't even notice if I don't tell him...hopefully...probably.."

"Maybe, he will be so impressed with my abilities that he will ask me to cut his hair in a similar fashion"

Sel wouldn't stop laughing and told me I HAD to take a

picture or he would divorce me. Okay, he didn't actually say that last part, but he was pretty insistent. Since he thought it was so funny, I thought I would give him a special little token to treasure. I am thinking of making it into a necklace for him for Christmas (P.S. He still hasn't noticed it is on his pillow yet :)

Is there a happy ending to this story? You betcha. I drove to Great Clips after my field trip with my friends from the Utah State Mental Hospital and Cassie fixed me all up. This is how our conversation went

L: "Hi. I need my hair cut."

Cassie: "Great! Sit down... That's funny...did you know you have a huge chunk of hair missing back here?"

L: "What?! Are you serious? Does that normally happen?"

Cassie: "No..."

L: "That is just so, so weird!"

I think she thought I was crazy. Maybe I fit in better with my friends from the mental hospital than I ever imagined.

The Chocolate Moon

Every month I am struck with the task of suppressing "the creature". Before I discuss the difficulties of suppression, I shall discuss what the creature actually is. The creature is difficult to define as it can change not only psychologically, but physiologically at any given moment (anyone else ever every realized how annoyingly similar these words are? I have.) After extensive study of the creature, I have compiled its nature into two very broad categories

1. Banshee Stage- while physically docile, the specimen will often take to laying on the floor and moaning about the end of the world. The creature will also threaten 3-4 times within a ten minute period to cut out its organs. This moaning should not be taken lightly. The creature must be told the following things within 2 hours of the onset of moaning to prevent dire flooding repercussions:

"You are exceptionally beautiful even though you haven't showered and are laying on the floor like a pathetic lump"

"Everything you are complaining about is completely rational and I greatly sympathize with you"

"You are gorgeous and I like your oversized night shirt"

"You don't have to go to class. What you are suffering from obviously prevents you from doing so"

2. Shewolf Stage: This is the most dangerous stage for the creature to be in. Physical and emotional harm will occur to anyone who knowingly or unknowingly upsets the creature. The creature is most vulnerable and, therefore, aggressive at these points. Extreme caution should be taken. Luckily, the shewolf stage has very specific physical manifestions indicating the dangerous stage the creature is in. The shewolf will be unshowered, have unkempt hair, will be wearing a hideous smattering of bagging clothing, and its eyes, oh its venomous eyes, will actually be spraying its victims with hydrochloric acid.

I was bitten by this most atrocious disease when I was 13 and have been desperately searching for a cure ever since. In the many years I've spent studying this debilitating disease, I have found an extremely helpful suppressive chemical: Theobromine. It's street name: Chocolate. When the full moon of death hovers over me, normal food turns to sawdust in my mouth. My very cells reject normal nutrients and I am left ravenous for the sole energy provider. I begin to question why things not made of chocolate even dare to exist: chairs, traffic cones, books. All are simply taking up valuable chocolate space. The creature slowly begins to emerge unless I ingest massive amounts of chocolate. My meals begin to look like this

Breakfast: Coco Puffs with Chocolate Milk

Lunch: 1/4 lb Heath Bar Fudge

Snack: Kit Kat Bar

Dinner: Licking the dark chocolate off the bottom of granola thins

Dessert: Drinking a gallon of hot chocolate and then resorting to simply snorting the coco up your nose for quicker chocolate uptake

My parents, my sister, the Milks, Sel, and my roommates are all the unfortunate eyewitnesses to my condition. Please comfort them (especially Sel) if you see them around :)

If you happen to be suffering from similar Creature symptoms, I must adamently recommend theobromine. There is hope! You are no longer required to seek the help of Severus Snape for a cure! You will be free to snog in the Hogshead anytime you want once you eat at least a pound or two (or six) of this a day.