First World Food Problems - To Take-Out or Not To Take-Out

NYC-ers don't cook in their kitchens.

As a typical New Yorker, I'm used to ordering out for every meal.  My stove is basically a fancy metal closet for my non-seasonal clothing.  But no more.  Since I've been Snatched-ing it's seen more action  than Pamela Anderson's vagina.

If I'm not cooking up a batch of brown rice for the week, then I'm likely roasting some veggies or hard boiling eggs.  Unfortunately, all this culinary activity has left my poor sweaters homeless, forced to squat on the narrow strip of floor surrounding my bed.

The kitchen sink, once sparkling from disuse, is now a continually shifting skyline of crusty pots, pans and Ziploc containers balancing precariously over discarded avocado rinds and carrot peels.  Sure, it sucks to be in a constant state of dish-washing, but the positive effect on my bank account (and waist line) make it almost - almost - worth the pruned fingers.

Still, it's been a serious challenge following my Snatched nutrition plan and hitting my calorie and protein goals.  Who'd have guessed it would be so difficult to cram down 2200 healthy calories?

I'm a spoiled New Yorker when it comes to dining options.  Why bother cooking when there's every type of ethnic food just a phone call and delivery boy away?  But now that I'm counting every calorie and gram, take-out has suddenly become the devil.

It doesn't help that my previously tame OCD tendencies have blossomed into full out crazy now that I've hit my mid-40s.  The thought of ordering Chinese food while on my Snatched plan literally sends me into a panic.  I picture myself huddled over that white take-out container with a pair of tweezers, separating and meticulously weighing out each ingredient on my shiny new digital food scale, wondering if I should pat down the steamed chicken to get rid of the extra water weight, and then tossing everything back together to make sure I have an accurate calorie count.  I know, sick, huh?

Anyway, It's now the end of week 3 (of 6).  Thanks to my high daily calorie goals I'm rarely hungry, unlike some of my fellow Ninjas (that's how clients are referred to at MFF) who seem to be starving all the time.  But I'm also bloated and gassy as hell thanks to all those damn veggies.  I've learned to quietly and stealthily release while sitting in the subway and then immediately turn to the person next to me with my just-sucked-on-a-lemon face as if to say, "Did you do that?" thereby deflecting blame away from me.  I'm not proud of it.

The workouts have also gotten progressively more difficult each week.  Exhaustion is my new normal.  I'm resigned to the fact that my muscles will perpetually remain in ache mode.  At least the trainers have the decency to wear tight, skimpy clothing.  So even while I'm heaving for breath and just about to vomit up the protein shake I just guzzled an hour earlier, I'm also ogling their tight asses and muscular thighs and drooling like a cougar at a frat party.

On the bright side, my clothes are beginning to loosen up and I no longer have to do the "suck in" to button up my work pants.  And although my weight loss has plateaued over the last few weeks, I still see major shifts in my body shape.  The man boobs are starting to deflate and my flat ass is starting to get some J-Lo curve.  So I'm sticking to the plan and getting through the next 3 weeks by visualizing the plate of stuffing and gravy I'll be sucking down come Thanksgiving Day as my reward for finishing my Snatched journey.

Sweating with the Stars but Puking by Myself

If you read my earlier post, you know that I'm elbow deep in the midst of a full body makeover via Mark Fisher Fitness.  I know some of you could care less about my fitness life, so to keep slightly on topic, my Snatched in Six Weeks group includes none other than Lin-Manuel Miranda, Tonya Pinkins & an old colleague of mine from back in my NYGASP days, Heather Hill (who just happens to be in the current Broadway company of Phantom).

Yup, I'm glute bridging with Tony winners, bitches.

It's difficult to describe MFF and the Snatched program because it's just so...well, not like any gym I've ever worked out in before.  And trust me, after criss-crossing the country for years on one-nighter bus-and-truck tours, I've hit just about every grungy gym and cruisy YMCA between here and Yakima.  Yeah, that's a real city and sadly I've performed there TWICE!

But to quote an article from the Huffington Post, the MFF workout is "...a combination of theater camp and marine basic training..."  And if you've never been to theatre camp, well, let's just say there's lots of gay dudes, top hats and nudity involved.  Oh, and show tunes.  So yeah, it's not for everyone.  Example: at a recent Ninja Essentials class I attended (they refer to all us members as "ninjas") the trainer - probably the only straight guy in the room - asked us who was going to watch the football game over the weekend.  Crickets.  Then the guy next to me shyly spoke up, "I think you're talking to the wrong group."

I've just finished up week two of my six-week Snatched program.  And yes, my pants are a little looser and my neck is a little less stumpy, but the past two weeks haven't passed without a few challenges, mainly in regards to diet.  Actually, "diet" is probably the wrong word for the nutrition program I'm following since "diet" usually conjures up the image of a big, empty plate of sad carrot sticks huddling together for warmth.  

With five intense workouts a week, the MFF team asked me to consume a whopping 2600 calories a day.  I know for most people (and me before I started Snatched) quantifying calories is like watching those annoying guys who break dance on the subway for money - you ignore them and just hope they go away.  But let me put a greasy face on that number for you: 2600 calories = 5 Big Macs.  And a banana.  Sadly, Big Macs aren't recommended on the Snatched program.

After about a week and half of literally gorging myself to near-puking levels, I finally spoke up and asked the nutritionist if we could perhaps dial that calorie count down just a notch.  So I'm still grazing all day like ol' Bessie out in the field, but I now have a more realistic goal of 2200 calories a day.  

A typical day of eating looks like this:

Breakfast - banana w/ peanut butter, 2 whole hard-boiled eggs, cup of Greek yogurt w/ fruit and sunflower seeds
Lunch - large bowl of turkey chili, roasted brussel sprouts and brown rice
Dinner - grilled chicken and asparagus w/tomato salsa
Snacks - protein shake w/ almond milk, a couple slices of beef jerky, some mixed nuts, a protein bar and an apple

I'm obviously not starving.  And after two weeks, I'm 10 pounds lighter.  Only four more weeks to go!

Merrily at the Movies

What marketing genius planned the digital, one-night-only theatrical showing of Stephen Sondheim and George Furth's flawed but beloved musical Merrily We Roll Along to coincide with the first game of the World Series?  And yes, this sports-phobic gay man actually knew that yesterday was the first game of the World Series.  But only because - full disclosure - I had to try and find someone a hotel room in Boston last night.

So anyone not interested in the game - that would be most wives, girlfriends and nerdy gay dudes (moi) - had the perfect entertainment alternative.  That fact alone probably accounts for the sold out showings in every NYC theatre.  Flaming theatre queen (and nerd) that I am, I purchased my tickets weeks ago and invited my friend Dan, another Merrily junkie, to join me.  This was the first Fathom Events showing I've attended, so I was excited to see if the movie theatre format would stand up to a live performance.

Merrily has always been one of those shows that critics have shit on but that Sondheim disciples like myself will defend to the death because of that fantastic score.  Admittedly, it was great to see yet another version of the oft revised book, but ultimately this production left me cold and (I can't believe I'm admitting this - sorry, Mr. Sondheim) a bit sleepy.  Not that there weren't some truly thrilling moments ("Old Friends," "Opening Doors," "Our Time," "Not a Day Goes By"), but for the most part, the rest of the show played like a Mexican telanovela, granted a very sophisticated one.

For me, the acting sometimes felt forced and just a tad over-the-top (i.e. Jenna Russell's Mary in the opening scene, though I quite enjoyed her second act).  Perhaps a result of theatrical performances being magnified and projected in close-up, twenty-feet high on a movie screen?

Mark Umbers' Franklin Shepard was charming and likable and created an unusually sympathetic take on what is often considered the villain of the piece.  He has a pleasant enough singing voice, but his hunched physicality and high-pitched speaking voice in the second act (to signify a more insecure, youthful Franklin) seemed a bit too obvious and completely unnecessary.  He can shrug his shoulders all he wants, but Umbers is just way to attractive to make anyone believe that he was at any time an insecure nerd.

Damian Humbley's performance as nebbish Charlie was a bit one note, though I very much enjoyed his less manic take on "Franklin Shepard Inc."  Humbley's Charlie didn't really seem to take much of a journey, though perhaps that's more a fault of the writing (and/or direction) than the acting.

The ensemble was competent enough, though their main function in this production was to spin the on-stage piano around and strike furniture from the stage.  And the costumes, especially for the 60s era, were just plain hideous.  Did the designer purposely try to make everyone look washed out and clunky in a color palate of black on beige on brown?  And poor Jenna Russell.  I could have cried every time she stepped on stage in yet another brown muumuu.

And why did everyone seem to become more youthful (the play moves backward in time) over the course of the play except for Charlie?  Did he really only own one pair of glasses over 20 years?

This production was hailed by critics and was a huge hit in London, but quite frankly, I don't get the hype.  The less than enthusiastic audience in my theatre seemed to tolerate the evening rather than truly enjoy themselves.  And I doubt the movie theatre format had anything to do with the chilly response.  Plenty of people were hooting, hollering and clapping during the Les Mis movie.  Though I did see a showing in Jersey, so scratch that.

Or maybe it was just the annoying queen seated behind us who could not stop commenting and loudly sighing to ensure that everyone was painfully aware of how miserable he was and how much he hated Merrily.  Why would you pay for a ticket to a movie of a musical you hate?  

To be fair, I should probably place some of the blame on the movie director.  All those quick cuts and close-ups actually lessened the impact of several scenes.  One glaring example of bad editing was during Beth and Frank's wedding scene.  The movie director never panned back to show that Mary was singing about/to Frank.  I know it's sort of obvious in context, but I think the constant cuts back-and-forth between Mary and Beth actually diluted the impact of the scene and song.  We never got the visual of happy Beth and miserable Mary both singing to Frank at the same time.

And what was up with the 30-minute "making of" video shown directly before the performance?  I do not need random audience members in a theatre lobby telling me how awesome the production is.  You're preaching to the choir, gurl.  I mean, seriously, no one is buying a ticket to Merrily because Captain Phillips is sold out.  And why would you show extended excerpts from a performance we're just about to watch?  Talk about spoilers.