Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

Girls Gone Wild

Krispy Creme and a Bag o’ Chips!

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Okay – so I’m not perfect.  Yep I ate ’em.  I ate an entire single serving bag of Lays Potato Chips and two (count ’em, TWO) Krispy Creme Donuts last night, right before bed.  That doesn’t count the half a bottle of red wine and vodka martini I drank throughout the course of my seven hour evening.  Lesson learned?  Don’t drink and diet. Ha!

If this is your first time stopping by Ms. Cheevious’ blog, welcome.  We’re in the midst of a weight loss challenge.  You’d never know it would you?  This week I am traveling, so the post is brief and to the point – but let’s face it.  It’s all part of the journey.  If you’d like to see how this challenge began, go to the first post in this series:  I’m a Thin, Light, Lean Mean Machine Don’tcha Know? You’ll get an idea of what’s going on in here. It’s mayhem, I tell you. Pure mayhem.

As to my recent reckless indulgence? No excuses.  It was the end to a very tiring week of travel, conferences, and being “on” 24/7.  What made it even more difficult was that my futile attempts at staying on course (which actually were not futile until last night) were met with comments like “You don’t even have anything on you to pinch!” or “You will blow away!”  Which is ridiculous.  I could wrestle any of them to the ground in about three seconds flat and hold them there as long as I wanted – except for that  little thing.  That tiny little morsel of truth that rears its ugly head just before you grab the other person, slam them to the floor and sit on them, holding them there until they cry uncle (I know you are asking how I conjured up such a vivid description, when little ole me could never do something so “manly.” Think Daisy Duke.  It’s in all of us.  Females all have a little Daisy Duke, even if it’s buried under generations of frumpiness).  It’s that eency weency bit of wisdom that stops you and informs you that “they” probably wouldn’t be too into being wrestled to the ground (not that I am.  No really, I’m not. I swear). 

I am writing from the road to say “All is fair in love and war. And healthy eating.”  Some more personal favorites: “Nobody is perfect,” “You never know what’s coming around the corner,” and “Life is What You Make of It.”  Oh, and another great one: “No one gets out of this alive.” How’s that for a golden nugget?

“Nobody is perfect” is important though.  It is not just a little adage for the day, to post over your work station. It’s the truth.  I am certainly not perfect.  Still, I try.  Don’t you stop trying, either.  Let’s all continue in our delusional states, shall we?  Ignorance is Bliss. Okay, enough of the cheesy cliches.

But, when ya’ gotta have that raspberry filled Krispy Creme Donut, even though you NEVER eat them when you are sane, ya’ just gotta have it.  You know what I mean? HA!

I’ll weigh in and resume my pristine, precise and orderly communication next week.  But here is to YOU.  It’s a bumpy road out there with long, winding turns, and only those who can maneuver with finesse will succeed while surviving those twists and turns! You can do this thing called life, and you can do it with incredible success.  I know I can, and will – dammit.  So, enjoy the rest of your week!

xoxo – Ms. Cheevious  

OH!  PS) I lost two more pounds after last week’s post.  I’m sure I gained them back this week, but stay tuned.  I’ll let you know more of how I battled my way into my summer suit and became king of the hill next week.  Also, I’m about to provide my entire eating regime over the last few weeks so you can see how it really comes together!  I’m excited for what’s in store! Again – Here’s to YOU!!

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious

The MILF & Cookies Factor

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I am looking at a cover of Esquire Magazine this very moment.  Esquire is a favorite of mine. The writing is razor sharp and cool.  I simply adore it.  I watch my mailbox, and look forward to each month’s edition almost as much as I long for a luscious piece of chocolate after a long day.  I’ve grown so accustomed to reading it from cover to cover, I fear without it my mind would grow dull and stale.  Yet my mind is continually inspired and pleasantly surprised by refreshing turns like, “I always thought he was a deeply fascinating, impossibly singular, sporadically terrifying personality,” when referring to someone as ubiquitous yet equally uninteresting to me as Norman Mailer.

That’s not to mention the fact that they have a column residing at times in the pages of Esquire called “The MILF Factor” (in several editions).  This is where a supposed “hot mom” comments on an article of clothing or some other inconsequential, yet equally meaningful item or subject matter. Of course I was NOT thrilled they didn’t ask ME to comment.  HellO.  Don’t they know who I am?

Perhaps not.

Welcome to my rant about Esquire, women and beauty – and my quest to regain mine.  Beauty, that is (I’ve not lost my Esquire magazine, and I’m not out gathering women – unless of course, I can gather you ’round to listen to me for about an hour or so.  I think it’s safe to say we’ve all noticed how I love to be heard).

It’s not actually “beauty” I am trying to regain either. I think truthful, loving, kind individuals are beautiful. Plus, I don’t believe you can lose your beauty. True inner beauty radiates to the surface. Hard to get rid of that.

Rabbit-trailing again, I did get a highlight last week. Really light. I love it. I also cut about five inches off my hair, and got a fun little “do” happenin’ there.  That said, I suppose I am always striving to maintain what semblance of outward beauty remains. So sue me.

I am trying to regain my thinness.  You may already know this from my last three posts.  I’m starting week four of my quest to get back into my summer suit and look GOOD in it!  Things are going beautifully – not to be redundant.  My results are at the end of this post.  Meet me there in a bit, would you?  Then leave a reply.

Anyhow, I am looking at the February 2008 cover of Esquire, which features Victoria’s Secret models re-creating an iconic pose to kick off their anniversary year. (That’s what the cover says!). Here it is, below:

MILF & Cookies

I haven’t yet figured out which iconic pose they’ve recreated here, but I had one of those “Eureka” or “ahaaaa” thoughts, ‘I need to share this on my blog!”

THIS, my friends, is one of my tricks!  So many women wouldn’t dare have this magazine in their home for fear their men would be “tempted” or they’d somehow, out of the blue, realize  how overweight and un-lovely they are.  But I take images like this cover, or my favorite pictures from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, and I post them on my refrigerator, on my junk food cupboard, and next the the mirror where I get ready in the morning.  My boyfriend doesn’t get weird about it.  That idea is just plain weirdness.  If he were going to be pervy about the pictures instead of appreciating them for what they are – hotness… beauty, then he’d be a pervert already. I couldn’t take the credit for somehow making him a perve. Ewe.  Weird.

And why not?  I mean, why not post these images around my house?  I say, whatever works to achieve your goal, baby!  Whether you are a hot mom “MILF” or just a hottie lady who loves life – only you can achieve your goals.  No one else can do it for you.  Just go for it, and get it done!  I’ll be cheering for you, and thinking really great things – like how great you will look, and how happy you’ll be!

This Week’s Results

And speaking of MILF’s… and cookies…

This week it was quite the challenge to live in the little world called Healthy-MsCheevious-Land (yes, the two can intertwine).  Last Thursday was Valentine’s Day, and my boyfriend took me to my all-time favorite restaurant, Center Cafe.  I saved up my calories all day, eating egg whites and veggies for breakfast and lunch. Then I ate exactly what I wanted for dinner.  I even had a glass and a half of wine.  It was scrumptious.

Then my little friend “Flo” started to call me. You know her too.  She stops by every month.  Well, she wore me out and I felt hungry all the time from having my energy zapped.  But I am a veteran at living and eating healthy.  It’s funny how it all comes back to you when you get serious.  I was able to recognize the signs of my little friend’s impending visit – and based on how I was reacting (emotional, shaky, tired all the time) I knew if I didn’t get some decadent meal served to me by a waiter, I was going to cry.  So, I did it.  Yep.  I ate Mexican food.  I ate cheese and guacamole.  I ate chips and salsa and I drank a margarita.  Hey – I didn’t pig out, I just ate what sounded good – because my endorphins were low, my energy was low and I needed a little somethin’ somethin’. I knew if I didn’t do that, I’d spend every day eating a little more than I should, cheating just a little bit, and that is far worse!

In spite of it all, Flo came over for her monthly visit the night before I was suppose to weigh in – Wednesday night.  Did that deter me?  Did I give up and eat whatever I wanted?  Nope.  I put my suit – theeee suit – on.  And guess what?  It actually fit!  I can take it with me next week on my business trip!  I will continue to lose the weight, because I’ve not yet reached my goal.  As a matter of fact, this week – I stayed the same.

Start Date:  Thursday January 31, 2007
Height: 5′ 5″
Goal: 125 lbs
Beginning weight:  136 lbs
Weight after week 1:  132.5 lbs (02.07.08)
Weight after week 2: 130 lbs (02.14.08)
Weight after week 3: 130 lbs (02.21.08)
Net Loss / Gain this week:  – 0.0 YAY!
TOTAL Net Loss:   6 lbs  WOO HOO!

So, no weight loss this week.  But none gained either, and what a great week it was!  I have no regrets for how it played out this week.  It’s all about the journey, and remember: Ya gotta LIVE.

But don’t stop there!  Tell me – how do you plan to do it – conquer your world?

[digg=http://digg.com/health/The_MILF_Cookies_Factor]

 

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Blog content copyright 2013, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

That’s Amore I Tell Ya’

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Ahhhh Valentine’s Day.

Cupcakes

The treats, and sweets, the flowers, and the pink stuff.  All that pink.  Everywhere.

It’s a day you either LOVE (because you are either coupled up and in love, or you are altruistic about the holiday no matter what your circumstances), or HATE (because you are either coupled up and not in love, or you are alone and sick of this thing being shoved in your face every year).  It sounds extreme, I know.  There may be an in-between in there somewhere, but who wants to broach that?  “Oh, I think Valentine’s Day is just FINE.”  If I said that, my post would be finished right here. That might appeal to some of you non-readers, I admit. But what else is there to say after “just FINE?” And besides, how boring would that be? It’s much more interesting to veer toward the extreme.

candy dipped cookie sticks - valentines day

Welcome to my V-Day post.  In case you are new, it’s also the start of week 3 in my pursuit to get back to my old healthy self and lose a few extra pounds in the process.  It began with the post, “I’m a Thin, Light, Lean Machine Don’tcha Know?”, and then after week 1, I lost 3.5 pounds, and chronicled it in the post, “Junk Food My Arse – Really!” My results for this week are at the end of this post, and they’re good. You won’t want to miss ’em.

The Day of Love

Every time I hear the word Amore – I remember the song (sing it with me here) “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!”

What I want to know is who thought up those lyrics, and what kind of drugs were they on?  Just think about it.  Did they actually think that the moon hitting your eye like a big pizza pie was at all usual?  They must have, or they wouldn’t have said it like it’s inevitable.  So is being hit in one’s eye (with a big or little or any kind of pizza pie), good, then? Or bad? Is love good or bad? Here’s to true sadomasochism and the thought that love hurts – but we love IT (love – whether it hurts or feels good, that is). There are a couple of other alternatives to a drug induced rhyme.  Here are a few:

1) He/she was in a writing slump.  I hear it happens.
2) He was a very poor lyricist, and just couldn’t think of anything to rhyme with “Eye” – not a single thing besides Pizza Pie.
3) He was an exceptional lyricist, and it just takes an intelligent mind to really “get” the true meaning of the lyrics.
4) He made a bet with friends, colleagues and the record label that no matter what the song said, it would sell.

I’ve got my money on number three or four, if drugs are ruled out.  I am assuming here that “love” or “amore” in this context is suppose to be viewed as a good experience, as most of us know it to be.  Although I also know from experience that love can be painful, treacherous, harsh, and extremely confusing.  I guess being hit with a pizza in the eye could be an extremely confusing or painful experience, as could falling in love.  Well, anyway.

Webster Defines “amore”:
Pronunciation: ə-ˈmȯr-ā
Function: adverb
Etymology: Italian
Date: 1739

1 : with love, devotion, or zest 2 : in a tender manner —used as a direction in music.

Not Any Amore

After that long-winded (or carpal tunnel induced) hook, I’ve got to be honest with you. This post has nothing to do with Love or Valentine’s Day.

HELLOOOO, PEOPLLLLLE!  I am getting my life (my body, more specifically) back!  I can’t be dwelling on chocolate and candy and all of that, when I have more important fish to fry – or steam – or broil.  I know the title of my post says “Amore”  but I lied.  Sorry.  It was a trick to get you in here.  


What I REALLY want to dish on are social “mores” (typically pronounced mohr-ays) and how they apply to me on my quest to stay fit and healthy.  I know – BOH – RING.  But indulge me here.  I am getting really good at this whole “mores” thing. 

Webster defines Mores as such:
Pronunciation: ˈmȯr-ˌāz also -(ˌ)ēz
Function: noun plural
Etymology: Latin, plural of mor-, mos custom
Date: circa 1899
1 : the fixed morally binding customs of a particular group 2 : moral attitudes 3 : habits, manners

The other night my boyfriend and I made dinner plans with a friend of his.  At this stage in the game (when we had dinner, I’d been on my quest for just two and a half weeks), I try to refrain from eating out. It takes me some time to get things under control and to be disciplined enough to be able to or even want to finagle things so that I can eat out without a worry. Don’t get me wrong: I always customize my orders at restaurants.  Without fail.  I am not joking.  Even the Lumberjack at Denny’s.

Our dinner plans were set for 7:30 pm.  This is late for an everyday, back-on-the-bandwagon kinda health chick like me.  I eat lunch at about noon (unless I’m too busy too notice, but that rarely occurs), and I eat something like carrots or pickles or something as an afternoon snack each day, so by 7:30 pm on most days, I’ve eaten my entire dinner and am feeling fine.

We went to dinner, and I was starving.  This is the first RED FLAG in the world of eating healthy.  Anyone savvy, who knows how to eat right, knows if you let yourself get hungry enough, you’ll eat things you don’t even like – like cold artichoke or hummus without bread. And at a fabulous Italian restaurant like the one we dined in, it’s inevitable that you’ll be served warm, fresh baked bread the minute you sit down. 
We arrived at the restaurant, and I was determined to be good.  Now, I define “good” as “good to myself.” I don’t usually care what others think about me, as long as what I am doing is not causing them real harm.
I’ll cut to the chase.  I had to be proactive.  If I didn’t get some food quick, I was going to eat the entire basket of bread sitting before me.  So, I ordered some steamed vegetables and a glass of water.  As soon as it arrived, I began devouring it.  Our friend was running late, but arrived as I was finishing off my last brussel sprout.  It was delicious.  She said, “Oh, you guys already ordered?”  My boyfriend and I were immediately apologetic. We knew it is just not really acceptable to order before your dinner guests arrive.  “We’re sorry!  She was going to faint!” my man said.  I felt bad, but it was really not a huge deal. As I thought about it later, and pondered it throughout the rest of this week, I decided that it’s because of my willingness to break with tradition or social mores, that I am successful.  And I don’t simply mean in my pursuit to regain my healthy eating lifestyle.  I’ve been successful in loads of ventures in my life, and I think it’s because I am willing to do things that are just outside of the box.  Just one toe over the line.
So – my encouragement to you this week:
   
If you are single: Forget about the Amore of Valentine’s Day.  Love who you are, and the beauty in life you can experience daily.  Enjoy every moment.
If you are overcoming something in your life, or challenged in some area: forget about the social mores.  Don’t concern yourself with what other people will think. Any amount of success requires focus and determination, and as long as you are doing no harm to another – you’ve got every right to change the social rules.

12.MyValentine.1301.SW.WDC.14feb07If you too are slimming down:  Be courageous!  Get creative when it comes to dining out or socializing.  Have your friends invited you to dine out? Exercise your freedom to eat your dinner early at home – within your control. Then show up for a soda or lemon-water and enjoy the company of your friends while they indulge in every form of decadence known to man. It really won’t kill you. The point is, don’t feel obligated to do anything you haven’t planned or aren’t ready for, and begin to make things happen for yourself – no matter what societal “rules” or “mores” exist. Only you can make it happen.
OH!  I almost forgot!!  My RESULTS for this week!
Start Date:  Thursday January 31, 2007
Height: 5′ 5″
Goal: 125 lbs
Beginning weight:  136 lbs
Weight after week 1:  132.5 lbs (02.07.08)
Weight after week 2: 130 lbs (02.14.08)
Net Loss / Gain this week:  – 2.5  YAY!
TOTAL Net Loss:   6 lbs  WOO HOO!
Hey, if I can do this, you can do anything you intend to do.  Enjoy life today!  You are so very worth it.
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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

 

 

Junk Food My Arse – Really!

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Ever feel like you’re just a cog in the wheel of the world, and relegated to doing things the same old way, day in and day out?  Ever think that the wheels on the bus really do just keep going round and round?

That’s how it is at times for me.  My boyfriend is one of those tall, lean, super muscular types that has always been athletic and active, and has never had to diet.  Welcome to my nightmare.  I was all set before I met him.  Well, in the health and diet department, at least.  He introduced me to the joys and delicacies of salami from around the globe (which I never would be caught dead eating before), served with fresh baked tuscan bread and olive oil.  Oh, and the incredible wines that we love to drink!

Don’t get me going! I’ll gain weight just typing this. But if I even think the words “diet” or “cut back,” or “slim down,” I may as well just say “fuh-get-abou-dit!” around our house and just eat the stinkin’ salami.  Heck, if he doesn’t mind the rotund little sub-human species that appears before him after a few years of eating like he does, why should I even try?

If you’re new to this blog, welcome.  Enter with caution.  You will get the hard cold truth, the facts about things in life and the world – as discovered and submitted by my crack team of research experts (yeah, right), and hopefully you’ll laugh a little.  Cuz my life is just one big joke. HA!

But you see I’ve been on this quest to get from this:

lt hip 013108

That’s my left hip / waist up there.

Stretch marks and all.  I have no secrets, I know.

To this:

Dance - 03-small
That’s me on the right. But it doesn’t
really matter.  The red leather pants
are mine as well, and I use to fit in
them just as nicely!

The truth is, I stay fit for ME.  And this is the start of week 2 of my “thin thinking, lean, mean machine” approach to fitting back into my suit.  I started last week as documented on the post I’m a Thin, Light, Lean, Mean Machine – Don’tcha Know?.

I also want to clarify exactly why I am trying to lose weight.  But I won’t do that here. To find out, you’ll have to read this whole thing.  It’s near the end.

Last week I left you with the notion that I have GOT to lose 11 lbs.  I have a business trip coming up and have to fit into my suit!  It’s a brand new, gorgeous suit.  Now comes the good stuff.  HOW I am doing it? I’ll give you a hint:  I am a lifer with that weightloss group you thought was only for old, fat, frumpy women.  Well, guess what?  It’s not, and I’m not.  It’s just smart.  Hello Weight Watchers.  Yep. They’ve saved my life – or at least saved me from having to buy entirely new wardrobes – more than once.  It’s true.  I even go to meetings when I can.  If anyone wants to get details on how I do it, you can go here to see everything I ate, as well as the “before” pictures of both hips, and that suit.  Ich.

I have to say, there is this whole mental thing that happens when I try to eat healthy.

Take the Super Bowl, for instance.  My boyfriend and I were spending time at our house in Moab, Utah. We don’t really know people in Moab.  We planned to watch the game on our own.  My boyfriend knew this was weird for me.  I like people, and I like to be social – especially when there is a big event that everyone gathers together to watch.

So, in the morning of the big game he took me out to breakfast.  Remember – I am watching everything that goes into my body.  So, when our choices were limited to Denny’s or the Steakhouse that serves breakfast, I knew I’d be in trouble.  In L.A. I could go to any number of restaurants – even Mel’s Diner on Sunset – where ordering something like steamed vegetables scrambled with two egg whites would seem commonplace to them.  As a matter of fact, they’d have it on the menu.  I held my breath and thought to myself, “We are not in Kansas any more Dorothy.”  Besides, I knew it might be my only chance to see beyond the walls of our house on Super Bowl Sunday.  So, off we went.

As I looked at the menu, I mentioned how I couldn’t decide if I should eat the amount of food I would normally reserve for lunch, and then have my yummy egg whites and grilled vegetables at lunch. Then it happened: Peer pressure.  Holiday pressure.  Non-dieter pressure.  Pressure from someone who has never dieted in his life.  “Why don’t you just enjoy the day? It’s Super Bowl Sunday! We can grill some great stuff and make some really good Super Bowl style food (translation: junk), and you can start again tomorrow.”  I knew he meant well.  He is so sweet.

I was forced to explain how it really works.

“Realize this,” I began, knowing full-well he knew he was in for a lecture of sorts. “If I live my life like that: eating junk food, or the holiday food of choice, or whatever – every single time there is a holiday, just because there is a holiday, I may as well forget about ever eating healthy, staying thin or living a healthy existence.  Think about it.  There is some occasion every single month, usually several times a month.  Birthdays, client meetings, Super Bowl, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Fourth of July, business lunches, weddings, you name it. I have to decide I am a healthy eater – no matter what the occasion – and only allow myself to eat that stuff, like nachos, when  IIII really want it (emphasis on I).  Sure, it always tastes good, but I have learned that I will never succeed if I live that way.”

He quickly agreed.  Poor guy.

But he ordered the “lumberjack” which consisted of two sausage links, two strips of bacon, a slice of ham, two eggs, hashbrowns (the processed kind), two pancakes with butter, and an order of white toast with butter (and jelly, of course).  Talk about will power.  Mine, I mean.  Come to think of it, I didn’t even flinch. I didn’t even realize I’d taken an inventory of his meal until just this moment.

I ate oatmeal with splenda.  Yum.

I didn’t really crave anything on his plate.  I wasn’t jealous or wishing I could have pancakes.  I’ve also learned that all of those decadent, yummy, fattening foods are always around.  They will find me, believe you me, no matter where I go or how much weight I lose.  But I tried to remember the last time I ate and ordered whatever I wanted from the breakfast menu at Denny’s.  If I tried to remember that two or three years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to recall.  I would have laughed and thought with a distant memory of that greasy taste in my mouth, how it must have been in high school or something. But the sad thing is, as I looked at my boyfriend’s entire table of food, I realized I’d just ordered the lumberjack myself about two months ago. This is why I am here now, trying to lose 11 lbs.

How easy it is to slip into the land of “I can eat whatever I want and still look fabulous” mentality.  I decided a few years back, and I am quickly regaining that resolve, that I will always have to work at being thin and fit, and that’s just it.  If I decide I have earned the option of looking frumpy after reaching seventy, then I will cross that bridge, as they say.  But even that thinking gets you in trouble.  I can just see it.  With that mentality, I’ll reach my seventieth birthday and head straight for the market to buy myself all the favorite foods I’ve kept myself from eating: pizza, manicotti, filet mignon with real butter, giant baked potatoes with real butter and real sour cream, nachos with beans and ground beef and cheese smothered all over them, enchiladas, with cheese and sour cream, and oh so much more.  I’ll decide that my three-times-a-week yoga class can now be replaced with baking days. I’ll bake my delicious Russian Tea Cakes (all butter), my chocolate chip pecan cookies that have Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate in them, and my fudge and peanut brittles, and every other kind of decadent sweet I can think of.  I’ll say it’s because I’m older now, and I’ve earned the right to bake food for my kids and grandkids (if I ever have them).  But in reality, I’ll be eating most of it myself, because hey – I earned it.

So, I’ve decided to plan to go out like Audrey or Katherine Hepburn.  Slender, lovely, and full of style.  That’s my plan anyhow, morbid and narcissistic as it sounds to speak of how I want to look when I die.  It’s more about how I want to live.  When I get older, I don’t want to lose my breath trying to lift my sausage thighs up the stairs, or to bend down and pick something up.  But I’m so young and so far from being that age, you say? Well, now is the time to set patterns and lay the ground-work for how it with be then.

So NOW is the time – okay, last week was my NOW – but I have begun. 

Here are my results after week 1:
Start Date:  Thursday January 31, 2007
Height: 5′ 5″
Goal: 125 lbs
Beginning weight:  136 lbs
Weight after week 1:  132.5 lbs (02.07.08)
Net Loss or other:  – 3.5  WOO HOO!!!

Now as to the reason I am on a quest to lose weight, and even more important, why I feel compelled to explain it again?  Well, some of you out there are wondering (I know this, because I am clairvoyant) what in the world I am doing trying to lose weight.  You think I’m as thin as I need to be, and I thank you for the good thoughts toward me.

My response? Only I know where I need to be.  I am not, nor have I ever been anorexic.  You will see this when you take a look at what I eat in a week!  I vowed long ago to never let my weight get to the point where others decide it’s time for me to lose it.  By then, it’s so far gone, it’s extremely difficult.  I know.  It happened to me after I gave birth to my youngest son.  Oh – about six years after.  It was way past my time then, and took several weeks and months of hard work and dedication to get to where I wanted to be.  I will not let that happen again.  I know the signs.  It happens slowly.  Five pounds in a year, or so.  But it doesn’t stop until you get tough on yourself and reign things in.  So, I’m doing it.  End of story.  But again, thanks for caring!

I’m on my way to a renewed me.  What about you?  What are you doing to get healthy this year?

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Register to receive these posts by email and get my eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” for FREE. Registration is on the right side bar of every blog post. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

I’m a Thin, Light, Lean, Mean Machine – Don’tcha Know?

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There I said it. It’s out there in the universe, swirling around now. I’m a thin, light, lean, mean machine.  That’s me!  Well, it will be soon.

Today I put a suit on that I plan to wear on a business trip to Florida in late February.  I embarrassed myself.  Just two and a half years ago this suit fit me and looked pretty stinkin’ good.  Not so this time. Blech.

So, I promptly took it off and hung it on my bedroom door as a reminder.  I proceeded to take three sheets of 8.5X11 paper and write messages to myself.  I wrote one that says “Don’t eat ANYTHING. You must fit in your suit! You need to lose it!” (it’s on the junk food cupboard) and another saying, “Thin & Lean is IN & Beautiful!!  Thin, Light, Lean, Mean Machine!!” (that one is suppose to get me amped up, and it’s above my desk), then one last one says, “The weight needs to come OFF! and you are the ONLY one who can do it!”  (that one is on my bathroom mirror).

So – I’m going to document my losses here.  I am good at this. I can definitely lose weight when I put my mind to it.  Don’t worry.  I am a health-nut dieter, not a basket case with OCD and anorexia. I’ll be good, I promise.

This all begs the question:  What do you do to get yourself back on track, both mentally and physically?

Tell me about it! I’d really like to hear, especially if you are trying to get slim once again as well!

Here’s to the new US in 2008 – or should I say, renewed US?  After all, this won’t be new – it’s more like a long lost friend who’s come back into our lives!  What a fantastic feeling!

So today – here I am at ground zero.  I have lost no weight.  My goal?  At least 11 lbs.

Stay tuned for the adventures of the Lean Mean Ms. Cheevious.

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

How Ms. Cheevious Got Her Groove Back

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“I have a funny story, right?” my British gal-pal said on the phone.  “We were all talking at the office the other day about what to do this weekend, and one of the girls in the office said she was going to Temple Bar.  It reminded me of that time a couple years back when we went to Boa, and then went with that guy – remember?”  I remembered.  I could also hear my girlfriend’s laughter in her voice.  It sounded like she was going to cry, it tickled her so.  “I told them, ‘I’ve GOT to tell you a funny story!  My girlfriend Lisa Jey and I went there one night – and Lisa Jey thought she was one of the ‘sistahs” – remember that?”  Why did she keep asking me that?  I remembered.  I laughed too. I was a crack up, I’m sure.

Here’s how it went down: (and no, I didn’t say ‘it went down’ to sound like I am a rapper or hipper-cooler chick than I am – that’s really how I talk, okay?) Basically, my friend Sheila (I’ve changed her name to protect her innocence.  Lord knows she needs it! ha ha) and I are the best of friends.  We are like sisters.  We get asked it all the time, too – whether we are sisters.  But she’s got this great British accent, and if there is some type of food I won’t eat – like bread or butter – she eats it, and still remains thin. Sometimes I hate her for that.

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Me (left) and my “Sistah” “Sheila”
Pretty lucky to be asked if we are sisters, eh?

I was scheduled that fall to fly out to Los Angeles to work on Soul Train’s Lady of Soul Awards, no less.  Just before my trip, Sheila got a sizable promotion or bonus or something at work.  I’d also just sold a piece of real estate and made a sizable profit.  We agreed we’d celebrate together when I was back in LA.

Sheila picked Boa, a wonderful steakhouse in Santa Monica with a very chic atmosphere, replete with bistro tables all in a row (and very close to each other), and a fantastic wine list.  About a third the way through dinner, a gentleman sat down at the table next to us who was obviously on his own.  He wasn’t bad looking either.  He had dark skin – so immediately I pegged him as potential for Sheila. She likes dark and handsome guys.  I wasn’t sure, though, as he seemed a tad-bit old for her.  She also likes younger guys.

Well, after we’d polished off a bottle of wine, I couldn’t help but strike up a conversation with this guy. He just sort of kept glancing sideways at us, and our tables were so close, he may as well have been sitting with us.  Once the introductions were out of the way, and after a couple more cocktails, we learned our new friend, Kevin Sullivan was a fairly well-known director.  His most recognizable directorial project was probably “How Stella Got Her Groove Back.”

We talked about lots of things, and were getting along swimmingly (it’s the closest I’ll ever come to being British – using that sort of vernacular), when our bill appeared, and it was apparently time to move on.  We were discussing options when Kevin said he’d been to a club nearby that plays live music, and it was pretty cool. He even offered to drive, as he’d not been drinking.  I’d worked all day with the Lady of Soul gals, and one of them mentioned she was going to Temple Bar as well.  I thought it sounded great.

We walked into Temple Bar, and immediately we could see that we were in Sheila HEAVEN.  If there was ever a place where all the people from the hip-hop and R&B communities hang out, THIS was it!  Sheila and Kevin seemed to be getting along a little better than before (they were arm in arm now), so I took my cue to do some of my famous Ms. Cheevious social fluttering.  I took my drink and proceeded to try and blend in.

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Sheila & I getting our
Groove on at a Christmas
Party One Year

The bar area had a dark atmosphere, with black wooden booths in the bar area, and red velvet accents.  I strutted past the booths, with guys and their girls lounging around looking at me as if I were on exhibit at the zoo.  I have to say, I am extremely white.  I have long blonde hair, and I live in Colorado most of the time.  This doesn’t mean much, accept for the fact that it contributes to my whiteness.  There isn’t much opportunity for sun bathing in Aspen.  So, on this particular night I was whiter than usual, and I felt it.  I could feel the gazes of the “brothers” on me, and their women too.  I struck up conversations with perfect strangers, and even shared a drink (by this time, I’d switched to water) with one group.  I decided to continue fluttering.  There was a wide opening to another room where a lot of people were crowding near the stage.  They had live music that night, and the band was exceptional – the kind you might only hear in LA or NY.  ‘Ooooh!’ I thought tipsily, ‘They’re good! How fun!’ as I proceeded to inject my whiteness into the sea of black beauties and groupies in the crowd.

Sheila and Kevin stayed toward the back of the room, as the lead singer jumped down  into the midst of the crowd.  I am a sucker for an exceptional vocal talent, and he had it.  He sang those R&B runs and his voice went all over the musical landscape – but with incredible finesse.  He was good looking too.  That didn’t hurt, as he tried to get the crowd of mostly women excited about his song.

Then it happened. He started to do this scatting thing back and forth with a few select little cuties in the crowd, and somehow – don’t ask me how or why – it must have been the alcohol – I decided I needed to get up there and vie for my turn at the mic.  ‘Why not?’ I reasoned with myself.  ‘I was a singer!  I use to practice this kind of stuff all the time, and I was good too! Plus there was that time I ROCKED scatting with the guy at Nic’s Martini Lounge in Beverly Hills!  This can’t be that different!’  No matter that I’d not sung professionally, or even practiced in several years – or the fact that I was somewhat inebriated, and probably not even speaking clearly. I was determined!   So, I careful maneuvered my way toward the area where this hot R&B vocalist was doing his “thing” and watched, smiling, waiting for my turn.  The other girls nearby bounced with me to the beat (See?  How white is that?).

He was singing this one line, something like “I said, tell me what you are looking for???”  And then he would put the microphone in front of a few of the faces in the crowd, who immediately backed away.  I was right there with him, and ready to go. So, when he repeated his line to me, “I said TELLLL me what you are LOOOOOKING  forrrr?”  I leaned in and – in my mind and in my heart I sang as hip and cool as Mariah Carey.  I could hang with the best of them, as the words “Much betttttter!” came out of my mouth.  Only the sound that actually came out was not what I’d envisioned for myself on my big lucky break.  Here I was scatting back and forth with this guy, and my voice felt like it was stuck in tar.  I couldn’t make it move fast at all!  Plus, I missed quite a few notes!  But I gave it my ALL.  I tell ya, it was an exhilarating experience, and now I know what it feels like to sing very badly in public!  It was hysterical!

After it was all over, and my singing partner had moved on, I turned to one of the girls next to me and exclaimed, “Oh my god! That was so bad!”  And she kindly said, “Girl! You held your own!  You were right on!”  Which led me to think that everyone in that place was drunk anyway, and none of it really mattered!

I meandered back to Sheila and Kevin.  Sheila had a mocking smile on her face, and as soon as I got close enough, she said, laughing, “What were you doing?  Do you think you’re a sister now or something?” I just laughed and threw out some cliched response, but the truth was I had a blast, and it’s one of my favorite memories to this day.

So what can we all learn from this boys and girls?  That if you aren’t willing to take chances or risks, you could miss out on the spice of life?  Yes.  But more than that, if you’re in need of getting your groove on, or you’ve been living a suburban existence, or perhaps you’ve just been working too hard –  make a trip to Temple Bar in Santa Monica.  I did.  I’d been living in Colorado, and hadn’t been out singing in a very long time. It’s how I got my groove back!

 

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Blog content copyright 2007, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.