Guinea Pig

Guinea Pig #37: Boudoir Photo Shoot

Bride on a Budget — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 19:50:00 GMT

When I saw Anthony Parazo’s booth at the Spring Wedding Show, my attention was immediately drawn to a little black book of alluring photographs. It sat demurely beside his wedding photography portfolio, and was full of sexy and romantic images that looked like they came out of a glossy fashion magazine. Ruth, his wife and business partner explained that in addition to offering wedding photos and head shots, Anthony also does “boudoir” photo shoots.

Hearing the word “boudoir photo shoot” may remind you of the over-coiffed “Glamour Shots” that were popular in the 80s and 90s, or maybe even that iconic George Castanza photo from Seinfeld, but let me assure you that that these photos bore no resemblance at all!

In the name of science, I decided to participate in a boudoir photo shoot. I’m not much of a girly-girl, and I literally did not own even one piece of lingerie, so I figure if Anthony can bring out my inner vixen, he can do the same for anyone.

Procedure:

The first step was a professional makeup application by Anthony’s makeup artist, Jessica. I was going for a natural, dewy look (nothing too heavy or smoky, mostly because my boyfriend doesn’t like it when I wear a lot of make-up), and Jessica transformed me from being nervous and tired into the best possible version of myself. I can honestly say I have never looked so good.

After the makeup application, the shoot began. I changed in and out of three different outfits, and posed in three different rooms of a beautiful home in Rosedale. At first, being semi-undressed in front of strangers was a little unnerving, but the crew’s professionalism put me at ease, not to mention the fact that if anyone was uncomfortable, it was Anthony, since he was the lone man in a room full of women. The other thing that made me relax (despite wearing some sexy shapewear – no easy feat) was seeing how well the shots were coming out. It was an instant confidence-boost.

Analysis/Results:

A few days after the shoot, Anthony sent me the proofs and my jaw literally dropped. The photographs were absolutely stunning and exactly what I was hoping for: seductive, but not at all slutty. A few of the photos would be excellent as head shots, while others, where my back is to the camera, are more artistic.

Conclusions:

I thought doing a boudoir photo shoot was going to be uncomfortable and nerve-wracking, but it was actually a lot of fun. It's amazing how a professional photo crew can make you feel relaxed and beautiful, even while you're wearing next to nothing. The best part of the experience was despite meeting me only days before, I feel like Anthony really captured my personality. Take a look at the gallery and see for yourself!

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Photo shoots are $850 for individuals and $350/person for "marathon" shoots (4+ people), and include a professional makeup application. Couples' shoots are also available. Each package includes a 10-page 4x6 album with retouched and enhanced prints.

For more information, visit http://www.anthonyparazo.com/.

Written by: Erin Jackson

Guinea Pig #36: Wine Tasting

Scotch Mommy — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 13:02:00 GMT

The Problem
I like to drink wine, but I’m definitely not what you’d call wine savvy. I don’t know the difference between pinot and plonk, but oh, how I wish I did! And not because I aspire to be a wine snob. Au contraire! But I would like to be able to hold my own in a discussion about vino, and also, not feel like a complete moron at a restaurant when the server splashes wine into my glass for me to taste and approve and I have no clue what I’m supposed to be tasting for or approving of. In the end, I hope to learn enough to throw a fancy wine tasting dinner that will impress even my most cultured of friends.

The Hypothesis
The best way to learn about something is to try it—and when it comes to wine, this seems like a particularly good idea. So I book myself in at two wine tasting events: a media preview of the Green Evolution eco-friendly wine tasting dinner at Globe Earth restaurant in Toronto and the Vintages Classics Taste & Buy at the Royal Ontario Museum, also in Toronto.

Variables
The media event at Globe Earth happens a few weeks before the Vintages tasting, which is a good thing: the Vintages Taste & Buy will feature some of the most highly rated vintages offered by the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO) and my husband and I will be on our own when it comes to interpretation of flavour. The event at Globe Earth will be smaller and, given that it’s a media event, will be designed around questions and answers. Also, I’m keen to learn more about sustainable, organic, and biodynamic wines. (And indulge in some afternoon cocktails without feeling guilty!) I’ll learn the ropes at the media tasting, before being thrown into the vinophile flames at the ROM. It’s win-win all around.

Procedure
At the media event, I learn something extremely alarming: after tasting wine, the most accepted thing to do is spit it out, into a silver spittoon. “Um, no,” I say. “I just can’t do it.” This is actually not as big of a problem as I anticipated. Non-spitters are certainly welcome to swallow as much wine as they want, but ultimately, it’s probably wise at a large scale tasting like this one (there were dozens and dozens of types of wine on offer, enough to make one extremely drunk by the end of it all, which is simply not done at media events; okay, fine, it is, but not by this journalist) to have a small sip, and then dump the rest into the spittoon. I have to admit, every time I go near the spittoon, I shudder inwardly. And no matter how much everyone else tries, they simply don’t look elegant horking wine into a silver bucket. But maybe that’s just me.

I learn a lot about the process of making biodynamic, organic, and sustainable wine, and I also learn how to properly taste. Proper wine tasting involves all the senses. First, one checks out the colour and clarity of the wine, once it’s poured into the glass. Red wine is not simply red. It might look purple, ruby, garnet, or even chocolate brown-ish. And white wine hues vary from pale gold to deep straw. You can also tell the age of a wine by checking out its colour: older reds will look orange-tinged at the edges, as they slide down the glass. And an older white will be darker than a young one.

Next up is smell: swirling wine around in a glass actually does do something. In fact, to unleash the aroma of the wine you’re drinking, you’re supposed to swirl the wine around in your glass for up to 12 seconds, so some of the alcohol is vaporized and the natural smell of the wine is freed. (Note: never wear white to a wine tasting. All the spitting and swirling makes it a perilous endeavour.) After you’ve swirled, you’re supposed to really get your nose into the glass and take a good, long inhale, almost like you’re smelling a flower. Then be still for a moment and take note of your first impressions. Apparently, you’re not supposed to edit. Think you smell cat pee? Fair enough. Oak, berries, tobacco, wild cherries, cedar, leather, vanilla and citrus are some of the more pleasant odours you might encounter in a well-swirled glass of wine.

Finally, time for a taste. Take a small sip and hold the wine in your mouth. Roll it around a little so it touches all the taste buds. The wine tastes strongest when it’s first in your mouth and you can take note of first impressions, but you probably shouldn’t try to boil it down to one flavour, like citrus, or cherry, right away. When the wine is mid-palate, you’ll get a clearer impression. Don’t force anything: just taste. Slow down. Don’t think about the end result, which is, for me, a healthy swallow of wine. (And, for others, spitting it out. Ugh.) Note any fruits and herbs you taste. Then prepare for the finish: how long does the flavour of the wine stay on your palate after you swallow (or spit)? Does it leave you wanting more, or is there a bad taste in your mouth you don’t particularly want repeated? At a formal tasting, you’d take note of all the flavours and impressions you encounter. I plan to do this at the Vintages tasting next week, but at Globe Earth, I focus on chatting with the vintners and taking advantage of the one-on-one time I’m getting.

Analysis
I’m prepped and primed for the Vintages event, but my husband and I still can’t help feeling a little overwhelmed when we arrive. The room is packed to capacity with vinophiles who really look like they know what they’re doing, sipping, swirling, and, of course, spitting, and then, making intelligent comments, oohing, ahhing, or grimacing. How will I know what to say about which wine? My husband and I try to come up with a plan of which wines we’ll taste first, but are unable to decide, so we simply go with white first, and red next, which is apparently what you’re supposed to do. If we knew which wines were heavy and which ones were light, we’d probably do the lights ones first, but we don’t, so we’ll save that for next time—we are wine tasting neophytes, after all.

The event is super busy, so I’m grateful I attended another tasting first to learn the ropes. (Although I’m sure the product consultants pouring the wine would be happy to answer questions, I feel too self conscious to hold up the lineup.) I need to be confident, I tell myself. It’s just wine, and all I have to do is taste. This is fun! It’s not school. So we sniff, swirl, take note of top notes, end notes, bottom notes, long finishes, short finishes and more. One of the best things about tasting wine—if you swallow, that is—is that the more you taste, the more relaxed and unselfconscious you get. We examine our wine for colour and clarity, and are even able to successfully differentiate older wines from newer wines. We even take some pretty comprehensive notes. Although, as the night goes on we do start to feel slightly squiffy—in a good way—and not really in a note-taking mood. But that’s okay! We’re enjoying ourselves thoroughly, and really taking the time to appreciate the amazing wines we get to try. There’s also food to pair with the wines, so we don’t get too tipsy: we enjoy small portions of steak frites, pork belly ravioli and bok choy, pea risotto with lamb, and a selection of cheeses. In the end, we decide it’s well worth the $95 price of admission. Learning about wine is fun—and makes for a great date!

Conclusion
Our favourites are the Chateau Le Gay 2005 from Bordeaux, which we think tastes dark, fruity, and delicious. We also adore the Bruno Giacosa Falleto Barolo 2005, which we thought tasted like berries and spice.

Although it might be some time before I feel like a true wine expert (if ever!), I did learn how to properly taste wine without feeling foolish, and also gained a greater appreciation for exactly what goes into a good glass of wine. I also learned not to judge my impressions or edit myself when tasting wine. I’ll definitely be attending another wine tasting, and may even take a course or two. And I’m absolutely going to throw a wine tasting dinner, and put my own fun spin on it, with blind taste tests and little trivia games. (No spitting allowed!)

Information on tastings:

Vintages/LCBO
www.vintages.com
416 365 5767, 1 800 266 4764

Lifford Wine Agency
www.liffordwine.com
416-440-4101

Written by: Marissa Stapley Ponikowski

Guinea Pig #35: Tummy Laser Treatments

Scotch Mommy — Tue, 04 May 2010 19:40:00 GMT

The Problem
After two pregnancies, I’ve lost all the baby weight, but have some stretch marks on my lower abdomen, as well as slightly loose skin, which is making me feel self conscious when I’m less than fully clothed. Things aren’t so bad, I suppose—until I bend over and my skin suddenly resembles that of a Shar Pei dog. I don’t want to lie down and take this! (Nor do I want to roll over, beg, or fetch and take this!) What I want is to spend this summer poolside in a bikini playing with my kids, winking suggestively at my husband, and flaunting my post baby figure. No t-shirts or cover-ups for me!

I’ve tried crunches, hot yoga, and stability ball exercises. And although I briefly flirted with the idea of attending a boot camp-style fitness program, I think I’ll try non-invasive cosmetic intervention first. That’s just how I roll. No pain, no pain. (Even if the treatment I end up getting hurts, it can’t possibly be as painful as 6am wake-ups and partial curls on wet grass while being yelled at by a power-mad instructor twice a week.)

The Hypothesis
I know this much: I don’t want to go under the knife. So I turn to Google and learn that certain laser treatments involving infrared light and bipolar radiofrequency energies can actually stimulate the collagen underneath the skin. The collagen then grows and remodels, become more concentrated and presenting as tighter skin. No early morning partial crunches or self-esteem crushing involved! I call Dr. Vera Madison, a Toronto-based cosmetic practitioner who is known as a laser expert. This is important, because a laser used by an inexpert hand can cause burns and scarring. No thank you! Dr. Madison also has a realistic outlook on the capabilities of anti-aging and skin tightening treatments. I make an appointment.

Variables
Dr. Madison checks out my tummy and tells me that I should probably consider at least a few crunches to build a bit more muscle, in order to support my newly tightened skin, post-procedure. Sigh. Okay, fine. Also, she tells me my stretch marks, which are all on my lower abdomen, and thankfully, will likely be covered by my bikini bottoms, will be difficult to eradicate completely because they represent a profound alteration of the skin on a very deep level. I guess when a stomach gets stretched to about a zillion times its original size, something has to give. So unless I want to do something drastic, it looks like I’m stuck with the pale lines. I think about something my midwife told me: that I should be proud of my stretch marks because they tell the stories of giving birth to my children. And although I kind of wish I could find a way to tell my birth stories in a little more of a verbal rather than physical way, I decide to go with it. At the very least, my faint stretch marks—which really aren’t that unsightly and are probably only noticed by me—are going to be on a much smoother, tighter canvas.

Procedure
Dr. Madison uses the Syneron laser on my stomach and abdomen during my first visit, to stimulate the collagen below the skin. My skin will look tighter immediately, Dr. Madison tells me as she applies a thick layer of lubricating gel to my stomach. The gel will provide a buffer for the slight heat and pinch of the laser. I brace myself, but it doesn’t hurt. Each click of the laser causes a slight feeling of pinching pressure, but it’s absolutely nothing major. (And certainly nothing compared to childbirth!)

Dr. Madison does one half first, painstakingly moving the laser head over every millimeter of skin. She then takes a mirror and shows me the difference between the treated side and the untreated side. It looks kind of strange, having one side of my stomach tighter than the other, but I’m impressed! She completes the procedure and I look at my stomach and abdomen in the mirror again. I can already see a difference in the tone and texture of my skin. I consider going to Stiches and buying a crop top, but decide not to get too crazy just yet.

My next treatment, two weeks later, involves the Syneron Refirme Skin Tightening treatment, which is an attachment Dr. Madison uses on the Syneron laser head. It’s the same procedure: a layer of gel and then about an hour of slight pinching and pressure while she carefully moves the attachment over my stomach and abdomen. This treatment also produces an immediate tightening result, but Dr. Madison tells me the collagen under my skin has been stimulated in a way that will make it continue to grow, change, and remodel over the coming weeks. If I do crunches in combination with whatever magic is going on under my skin, I’ll be bikini ready in no time. This sure beats boot camp!

Analysis
After both treatments, my skin feels a little tight and warm and is slightly pink, too, for a few hours. But there’s absolutely no pain, peeling, or downtime involved. I noticed improvement in the tone and texture of my skin after the first treatment, but my stretch marks remained basically the same. Dr. Madison prepared me for this, though, so I wasn’t too disappointed. However, after the treatment involving the skin tightener, my stretch marks seem to fade slightly, and the difference in the tone of my skin is even more dramatic.

Conclusion
I liked how relaxing the treatments were and also enjoyed seeing slight improvements in my skin tone every day, lasting at least two weeks, following the tightening treatment. I’m supporting my newly toned stomach and abdomen with exercise, including daily crunches, yoga, and power walking. I feel like a new woman and think that unless a person looks very closely, they’ll never be able to tell I’ve given birth to two children. The story of their births is still my lovely little secret!

Data:
Dr. Vera Madison
Madison Clinic, www.madisonclinic.com
21 Imperial Street at Yonge and Davisville, Toronto, Ontario
Telephone: - 416-944-8296,
Syneron laser and Refirme Skin Tightening: approximately $300–$500

Written by: Marissa Stapley Ponikowski

Guinea Pig #34: Glycolic Acid Facial Peel

Guest Blogger — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 17:56:00 GMT

The Problem:
I was walking down the street recently with a fellow mummy friend; we were both feeling less than yummy that day. “My skin,” my friend told me, “feels like an old piece of flannel.” “Precisely!” I exclaimed. I’d been searching for the right way to describe my dull, uneven, bumpy skin for ages. Well, not quite ages: about a year, to be precise. My skin condition changed for the worse around the time I came down from the high/low of two pregnancies in less than two years, the births of two beautiful, healthy babies, and a whole heck of a lot of breastfeeding. I’d been unsettled by the redness, breakouts, and newly discovered fine lines. Where had I gone wrong? I’d glowed during pregnancy, and for a long time afterwards, too, the product, I believed, of my love of motherhood. Ha!

My skin, apparently, does not love motherhood. Lack of sleep, exposure to the elements during long afternoons picnicking and playing at the park (rain, wind, or shine) and hormonal changes had likely contributed to turning my formerly youthful skin into a dried and aging husk of what it once was. And at 31, I refused to give up on my quest to be mistaken for the children’s hot young nanny whilst pushing my alarmingly huge double stroller (that seemed like a good idea at the time) down the streets of my family friendly Toronto ‘hood. I would be a yummy mummy if it killed me, I decided.

Hypothesis:
After my walk with my friend, I came home, plugged the kids into Treehouse—don’t judge me, television can be a mother’s best friend—and called Dr. Sheldon Pollack (http://www.derma-surgery.ca/meetdr.asp), cosmetic dermatologist, to ask for some advice on rejuvenating my tired-looking skin. He recommended the Neo-strata Glycolic Acid Peel ($150) as a quick way to get the results I was looking for. “These are simple, effective treatments that improve and maintain skin texture and appearance, over decades, with extremely minimal risk,” he told me. “What I love about these is that they seem to deliver more results than I would have expected for such a simple procedure.”

Variables:
The treatment has been called the “lunch time” peel, because it only takes twenty minutes, and there’s apparently no downtime, save some minimal redness and sunburn-like peeling, and a potentially adverse reaction in people with ultra-sensitive skin. (Dr. Pollack does a spot test to make sure.) However, I was still apprehensive—remember that Sex and the City episode where Samantha gets the peel and ends up showing up at Carrie’s book launch wearing a beekeeper’s hat to hide the angry redness and horrific peeling? Remember the way the girl’s screamed in terror when she lifted her veil? I did not want that to be me. But Dr. Pollack assure me he’d be gentle, so I decided to place my trust in the professional. He’s one of the best in his field, after all. He recommended I use a night cream with glycolic acid for two weeks preceding my appointment, to prepare my skin for the treatment. It stung a little, but also started to even out my skin tone already, which was worth the minimal discomfort.

Procedure:
On the day of my appointment, Dr. Pollack evaluated the condition of my skin—he refrained from saying it looked tired and flannel-esque— and prepared my skin by cleansing it gently. Next, he applied the glycolic acid solution with a brush. There are different levels in the Neo-strata system, and Dr. Pollack used the weakest one on me, explaining that we could work up to a stronger solution in future treatments.

The solution caused my skin to tingle, and the tingling eventually increased to a slight burning sensation, but when Dr. Pollack asked me to evaluate the pain I was feeling on a scale of 1-10, I really couldn’t go any higher than a two. About twenty minutes later, just when I was beginning to think I might have to move my pain number up to a 3, and possibly beg for mercy, he removed the solution and placed cool, soothing cloths on my skin.

Analysis:
I was a little red afterwards, so Dr. Pollack applied some Dermatop solution, which calmed things down right away. Ten minutes later, I was out the door and walking down the street without feeling the need to cover myself under some sort of helmet. I looked normal. Better than normal. When I got home, my husband looked up from the newspaper and said, “Wow, your skin looks amazing.” He’s not really the type to notice the subtle nuances of a woman’s skin condition, so I took it as a huge compliment. “Patients are always receiving unsolicited compliments on their skin and love the feel and look that the peels provide,” Dr. Pollack says. And truly, my skin did look great. It was completely smooth and soft. And the next day, it was glowing, too. A tiny bit of peeling followed over the week, and I was careful, as always, to wear lots of sunscreen, but any peeling wasn’t noticeable and was easily amended with moisturizer. I felt youthful and vibrant, and it just kept getting better as the days passed.

Conclusion:
Dr. Pollack recommends a peel treatment every six weeks or so and says improvements will steadily increase over time. “There is no limit to the number of treatments that you can have,” he says. “I have women in their 20's through 70's all coming for these with no interest in stopping. Compared to a spa facial, which costs about the same, these peels deliver much, much more, including evening out the skin tone, decreasing blemishes in acne-prone skin, a smoother look and feel of skin, and the promotion of collagen formation in the skin. Also, I have seen remarkable improvement of acne scarring, but this is after 12-18 months of peels.”

I booked my next appointment, and don’t plan to look back on my days of less than perfect skin.

Data:
Toronto Cosmetic Skin Surgery Centre - 416-961-7731, http://www.derma-surgery.ca/
200 St. Clair Avenue West, Suite 218
Toronto, Ontario
Telephone: 416-961-7731
Glycolic acid peels cost $150 + GST.

Written By: Marissa Stapley Ponikowski

Check out our other beauty related Guinea Pig articles:

Guinea Pig Experiment #27: Argan Oil Scalp and Face Treatment
Guinea Pig Experiment #22: Reiki
Guinea Pig Experiment #23: Therapeutic Waters

Guinea Pig #33: Hula Hooping - Aradia Fitness

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 18:00:00 GMT

The problem:
I was in a bit of a funk. I had put my regular workouts at the gym on hold ever since the holiday season, and I was looking for something new and stimulating to get my booty shaking.

Hypothesis:
Sure, I’ve tried hula hooping before... When I was nine years old and failed miserably at it in my backyard. If I kept the hula hoop on me for longer than two seconds, I was happy. I was a bit skeptical that I would get the hula hoop around me and not have to pick it up off the floor. I doubted hooping would be much of a cardio workout, but since I had been to Aradia Fitness before and really enjoyed the pole dancing class, I was willing to give it a try.

Variables:
I play it solo at the gym, opting not to go to the group classes. I like to keep my cardio and toning exercises to the typical treadmill and free-weights work out. But, perhaps a modern take on hula hooping is just the group class I’m looking for.

Procedure:
I arrive at Aradia fitness in downtown Toronto. It occupies a spacious room atop a salon, and hula hooping will be done in the same room where nine poles await the pole dancing class. I sign in, and the lady at the front desk introduces me to Martina, our hula hoop instructor. Martina is very sweet and she knows how to work a hula hoop around her body. When she does it, it seems natural. I wonder if she’ll think I’m totally hopeless at this. I head into the workout area; there are two different groups of hula hoops backed up against the wall – the big hula hoops and the smaller ones. I go for the smaller ones, thinking those are the safest for beginners. I’m wrong. Martina informs me that the bigger and heavier the hoop, the slower it rotates around your body. And, as the hoop circles your waist, it gives your intestines and organs a firm rhythmic massage.

It doesn’t take long for me to get the hang of it. In fact, I manage to get the hoop to circle my waist a couple of times before it hits the ground. I’m impressed! So, after a few exercises to warm up, Martina shows us where to place our feet and how to move our hips and waist. Within minutes we’re bumping, gyrating and sweating as our entire bodies are getting into the workout. I’m surprised at what a good cardio workout this is. My body is moving the entire time to keep the hoop off the ground. There’s a real technique of pushing and pulling your body, and isolating the chest. The harder and faster you move, the smoother the hoop circles around you and the more you sweat.

Martina shows us not only how to hoop around our waist, but also how to move from side to side, walk around with the hoop, swing it around our wrists with our hands above our heads, and for the really brave ones, around the neck. At the end, you incorporate all of these moves to make a dance out of hula hooping.

Analysis:
I was surprised at the instant jolt of pain in my muscles, which shows they had been thoroughly worked out. After an hour, I was left with the pleasant burn and strain of a good muscle workout.

Modern hoopdance is a combination of belly dance, hip hop and rhythmic gymnastics. You don’t need a natural ability, but with practice you’ll be able to swing the hoop around your thighs, hips and chest. No matter the skill level, hooping allows you to move your body in very graceful ways.

Conclusion:
I was pleasantly surprised with how much fun I was having hooping. I didn’t feel stupid when my hoop fell, because I managed to keep it going for longer than I expected. Learning that there was more to hooping than just moving your hips around was well worth it. I think hula hooping classes are a great way to strengthen the core muscles and tone the body while getting in some cardio. Hooping also allows you to increase your flexibility and coordination.

Data:
Hula Hooping classes:
Aradia fitness - 416-901-2848
721 Queen St. West, 2nd floor, Toronto.
Hula Hoop Dance class cost: $17 + GST

Written By: Lori Harito

Guinea Pig Experiment #32: Colour/Style Makeover By A Superstar Stylist

Sporty Vixen — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 15:33:00 GMT

Problem:

I don’t have a hair stylist and have been on the prowl for a good one for ages! I’ve been disappointed with the style, but happy with the colour… liked the style, but looked like Pepe Lepew colour-wise (even though I did say mention toning down the highlights)… and I’ve also ended up at another salon getting my hair re-done after a hair stylist guinea pig nightmare. Could this be the end of my hair stylist drama?

Hypothesis:

When you go with a stylist like Superstar Hair Challenge – Season 1 winner, Jason Lee, you would figure that I would finally find some hairstyling happiness.

Variables:

With me being a suburbanite and having most of my hair dramas by stylists in the big T.O., you would think that I would try to stay in the “burbs” to find my own style out there. Would the commute on my day off be worth it? Will the stylist that took the title in a reality show actually be able to give me the look I’ve been dreaming of? Or, will I look like an “Avant Garde” nightmare? Ok, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic, but I take my hair very seriously!

Procedure:

I was welcomed into the salon with huge smiles from everyone on staff. Could this be the condescending look that all the salon staffers have given me in the past? My mind goes back to where I could just hear the giggles when I’d leave from a nightmare hair sesh.

Wait, this time it actually feels genuine. There was no apprehensive feeling anymore. All the salon staff were very accommodating, laughing and I felt relaxed and happy while waiting for my appointment. My eyes made their way to the stylist’s chair where a young woman, with awesome hair, was getting her hair done by Jason.

The lady was just finishing up her new look and it looked absolutely amazing, of course her hair probably was amazing when she arrived. But I was impressed by the amount of time he took to ensure the cut and style suited her and was what she was looking for. You could just tell that she felt like a million bucks.

Soon enough, it was my turn on the chair. Instead of the typical “What are we going to do today,” I was instantly tuned into the look he was giving me – like he was analyzing my hair, and was creating an image of a style/look that would suit me.

We actually chatted about what my turn-offs about my hair are and what I was looking to achieve with my hair. For me, it was about the colour. I was tired of the plain, dark hair that was just covering up the few grays that I have. He could tell that I wanted something more and we both knew that my base colour was way too dark for me. OMG – we’re on the same page!

The next thing we discussed was the look I wanted, colours I wanted to avoid and the style that we both thought would suit my wavy hair. I couldn’t believe someone was actually analyzing and caring about the way that I wanted my hair to look. He knew I didn’t want to lose the length of my hair, but wanted something different. I was also afraid to layer my hair because of the nightmares others before him had done. He actually mentioned that I have the best of both worlds. I have curly hair and I could also have straight whenever I wanted to. I actually had to trust him. He knew what he was talking about and he had me convinced I would be happy with the finished product.

After highlighting my hair with foil, and covering those pesky grays, I found myself looking at a very fresh colour that addressed my issues and looks very natural on me. The “old” base colour is no longer ruling my hair.

Out came the scissors. This was the part I was most worried about. I’ve got the hair that is curly, and sometimes hairstylists go scissor happy with layers. This time is different. Jason told me he wasn’t going to cut a lot of layers into my hair, he wanted to just cut a few in for definition and bounce.

After a suspenseful moment of “I don’t knows” while hairdrying, I found myself glancing in the mirror again.

Analysis:

Right away when I looked in the mirror, I identified that instead of a completely different me, I found a style that complimented my natural hair’s beauty. The colour was very warm, natural and had a lot of definition in it. The cut falls into place naturally – not a lot of upkeep is required. I’m still able to style my hair quickly and I feel that I can do a lot with it. It’s also easy to tie the hair up the same as I’ve always done for my athletic ventures.

Conclusion: Do I feel like a celebrity? You bet! Thanks to Jason, I feel like a star.

Written By: Jennifer Pynn

Check out Jason Lee's weekly Ask An Expert blog posts!

Have a question for Jason? Don't be afraid to ask, send them to askanexpert@slice.ca

Guinea Pig Experiment #31: Double-Sided Tape

Beach Babe — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 18:20:00 GMT

The problem:

I have a shirt and a dress I love to wear when going out but both are low cut. The shirt is beaded so the weight of the beads makes the top droop forward exposing everything. My issue with the dress is that it's silk and the straps fall off too easily!

Hypothesis:

After years of trying to pin my shirts and dress straps to my bras, something stronger (and less damaging to the fabric) is in order: double-sided tape. If I use the tape as directed, and tape it from my skin to my shirt and stick the shirt to my chest, then I should be free from accidental exposure.

Variables:

I tested out the double-sided tape with: a) the dress at a friend’s wedding and with b) my beaded top while out for a friend’s birthday. There would be dancing involved at both these events, as a result my body temperature would likely rise. So I would be hot and moving around lots. Note: I am not mentioning the specific tape brand I used as I didn't compare it to others on the market.

Procedure:

The procedure to applying double sided tape seems simple enough at first, but it can be quite challenging depending on the outfit. First, it says your skin must be free from oils and powders. The tape I was using also recommends you place the tape on the “inside edge of clothing” first then “remove protective liners and press clothing to skin.”

With the dress I was wearing, I had my dress on, stuck the tape to the inside of my dress by the seams along my chest (I only used a piece of tape about 3” long) - then peeled the protective liner and stuck it to my skin where I wanted it. No problems here.

With my beaded top, I was also already wearing my top when I applied the tape. I had a bit more trouble this time around, and ended up wasting a piece of tape because I couldn’t get it to stick where I wanted. I decided to stick it to my chest first and then press the shirt to it, that didn’t work either. So after a few trials and errors I got my shirt stuck to my chest in the right places.

At the end of the night I pulled the tape off my skin. It hurts coming off the skin, a little more than a Band-Aid would, but it came off my clothes easily and damage free.

NOTE:The package advised you don’t just peel or pull it off (I should have read that first). It says the tape can stick and to “roll tape away from skin.”

Analysis:

When I used the double-sided tape the first time (wearing a dress at my friend’s wedding) I absolutely loved it. I danced the night away without so much as having my dress even move on off my chest. I could dip, jump, twirl, and it didn’t move. Also I was dancing so much I was sweating. It started to peel at the edges a bit by the end of the night, otherwise it held up its end of the bargain.

I had the same results the second time around when I wore my beaded top out. My shirt stayed in it’s place for the whole night.

But, here’s the downfall to this tape – it left me with red puffy lines the next day where I had put the tape. It looked like someone burned lines into my skin. The tape I used recommends you do a skin sensitivity test first – I did not do this, and probably should have. I have heard it can rip your skin if you’re not careful.

It has a whole host of WARNINGS:

“Do not use on sun burned skin… Anyone can develop a rash or blister… Remove if you experience a burning sensation… Adhesives may cause your skin to become lighter or darker. More prevalent in women with dark skin… Not intended for use on delicate fabrics.”

See these pics of the marks on my chest below... they did clear up after 2 days.

Conclusion:

The tape works as promised, but left me with a rash. The first time I didn't notice any red marks, but the second time I did and I got a little freaked out and swore I’d never use it again. BUT, the redness may have been reduced if I followed the directions on how to remove the tape.

I will likely use it again though, and risk more rashes. It works so well and I don’t want to go back to pinning my dresses. But the red lines on my chest were bad enough that if I wore something low cut the next night you’d see them… not good. I was also fortunate it did not give me worse of a rash or scar.

If you're going to use it, definitely use with caution and test it out on an area of your skin first.

Written by: Beach Babe

Guinea Pig Experiment #30: femMED Hair, Skin, and Nails Vitamins

Guest Blogger — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 15:38:00 GMT

The problem:

Chewed up, thin, and otherwise gnarly nails. Full disclosure: other than a three-week period in the late 1990s when I stopped biting my nails to prove that I could, I’ve never had nice fingernails. My nails bear the brunt of my stress and are the most reliable barometer for what kind of pressure I’m under. I’m tired of feeling like I have to hide my hands and though I’m fairly confident I can’t go from short and scraggly to long and manicured (I type all day!), I do want to be able to be confident that my nails look neat and healthy.

Hypothesis:

A months’ worth of femMED vitamins designed specifically for my woes is in order. If I take the Hair, Skin & Nails supplements as prescribed for one month (and abstain from biting my nails), I’m hoping to see results.

Variables:

This experiment was conducted during a particularly stressful time. Work was busier than ever and the holiday season was in full force. This was definitely a time when my nails would normally be quite ragged.

Procedure:

The procedure was easy and straight-forward. I took two pills a day (in the morning and at lunchtime) and I began to see results after the first week. For the first couple of days of week 1, I couldn’t see much of a change, but by the end, it was like I magically grew beautiful, strong nails overnight. Seeing the initial results made me even more determined to follow the regimen exactly, and based on my success with the supplements, I wasn’t even tempted to bite my nails. When they got too long, I trimmed them with nail clippers and used a file. For me, this was big progress since my previous method was to just chew them off without giving it a second thought.

After the first week had passed, I graduated from clear coat (which I was wearing mostly to protect my nails) to buying nail polish for the first time in years. I went a little overboard, purchasing a sparkly purple, a vivid pink, and a classic red, in addition to a base coat that would further strengthen my nails.

For the last three weeks, my nails continued to grow, and I enjoyed having pretty painted fingernails. Though I was mainly taking the supplements to fix my nails, I also noticed that they made my skin brighter and my hair felt softer as well. Even though I hadn’t switched shampoos, it felt like I was using a salon brand. My hair was sleeker, shinier, and didn’t get tangled after a shower.

Analysis:

I went into this experiment a little bit skeptical. I’ve always thought the best way to improve your nails is to use any of the specially-designed polishes to target the problem. What could be a more direct approach then applying something on your nails? I thought taking a vitamin was a less direct and probably less effective solution, so I was truly amazed by the results, particularly how quickly my nails grew and how much stronger they became.

Before taking femMED supplements, I had short, scraggly nails, and just 7 days into the regimen, I was painting them for the first time in over a decade. I’ve received lots of compliments on my nails, and am now converted. Based on the success of this experiment, I’m going to take better care of my nails and paint them much more often.

Conclusion:

Anyone can benefit from femMED Hair, Skin & Nails supplements, whether you’re a chronic nail-biter looking for a little help growing your gnarly nails out, or someone who regularly paints them. I noticed a difference in my nails, as well as in my hair and skin, so the supplements delivered results as promised.

Data:

The supplements typically cost about $30 for 60 capsules, which is a one-month supply. They can be purchased at major drugstores or http://www.femmed.com/.

Written By: Erin Jackson

Guinea Pig Experiment #29: Spynga

Beach Babe — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 16:00:00 GMT

The Problem:

I needed to find something to compliment my running. Getting back in the shape of things after the holidays, I started running again but realized I need to mix up my workouts, especially in the winter. I also wanted to find something that would give me more strength and flexibility, especially for my core and legs - which are considerably weaker than my cardio system.

Hypothesis:

Cycling is good for the butt and legs, while yoga is good for strength, core, and flexibility. So if I did both, then I would hope I'd get what it is I need to compliment my running and make me a better runner. I took a Spynga class at Spynga, the Yoga and Cycling Studio in Toronto. What is Spynga? Spinning + Yoga!

Variables:

I'm in moderate shape - having gone from peak fitness to injury, to slacking when I could have been getting back in shape, to further weakening over the holidays. Too much shortbread, stuffing, gravy and mashed potatoes. All in all, I needed to get my butt back in gear and had started up running again, but lack any core strength or stability in my thighs. I was in for the 45min Spynga Flow class, one of the studio's most popular, with Casey Soer instructing. Spynga Flow consists of 25 minutes of intense spinning on stationary bikes and another 20 minutes of Yoga.

Procedure:

Pack a yoga mat if you have one – or bring a dollar to borrow one from the studio (money goes to charity), pack your running shoes, and workout clothes. I went straight from work, so had to prep this in advance.

Once at the studio, they have cubby holes to place your belongings and change rooms. Then pick a bike - with it being my first time I was helped on how to properly set it up and tailor the height of the bike seat to my height. Definitely ask for help when doing this if it’s your first time.

Next, I was on the bike and ready to go. I spun and spun, lifting my butt off the seat as often as I could as the instructor took us from moderate to high intensity, back down to low and back up to high intensity in what felt like a punishment to my butt. The instructor was very supportive, cheering us on, and didn't make me feel like a slacker when my poor behind couldn’t take being lifted of the seat anymore and had to plunk back down while others somehow managed to keep theirs high in the air.

Finally after what felt like enough pain, the instructor said this is the last song – and I pushed it as hard as I could – feeling the burn, literally. She had us incorporate push-ups on the bike while cycling as fast as we could, which was surprisingly new to me and effective.

Then it was time for the yoga, "Thank God" I thought. I thought wrong. The amount of stability and core strength it took to do and hold the poses was tough, and I was dripping sweat, collapsing, and doing the beginner version of the poses. But fortunately, the instructor was encouraging and helpful with how to safely position myself so as not to kill myself!

The class was fast paced, and flew by – before I knew it I was lying down on the mat relaxing, deep breathing.

The instructor said she was going to now come along with some lotion and push down on our shoulders to those who want it. It was very relaxing. We were all cooling down, with the lights dim, while focusing on our breath - then the instructor came around and just quickly put a bit of light pressure on my shoulders and I felt my stress go away.

Then we all sat up, and did one "Om" together at the end. I admit, I wasn't expecting to "Om" but I was committed 100% and found that five seconds of meditation to be surprisingly peaceful. I opened my eyes and felt really good.

Analysis:

At Spynga Flow, Soer was very helpful with anyone who was new in making sure we didn't push ourselves too hard in the yoga poses or that we weren't straining ourselves.

And needless to say, I got my butt kicked! I was dripping sweat 10 minutes into the spinning and well into the yoga portion of the class. The next day it hurt to sit down, my butt muscles and abs were quite sore, but a good sore. As someone who just loves to run, I realized how week my core muscles really are.

Conclusion:

The environment at the studio is welcoming, not at all intimidating. Soer and Nisker have found a way to bring a warm yet professional atmosphere to their studio. With chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and wooden floors, you feel as though you're visiting a community of people in a home as opposed to the cold concrete walls of a gym.

I loved this class for the high intense cardio benefit I got at the beginning and then the toning and strengthening benefit from the yoga. Although for me the yoga was very challenging at times, it forces you at the end to really stretch and feel your muscles and focus on your breathing, which resulted in me feeling very relaxed. I went home and nearly passed out on the couch at 9:30pm – I had that tired feeling I used to get as a kid after playing outside all day.

Dare to Do 30 Challenge:

Spynga also has a Dare to Do 30 program starting January 13th where participants get unlimited yoga and cycling classes and counseling on nutrition, exercise, weight loss and more. Dr. David Macklin from X-Weighted: Families is on board with this program helping to teach participants about attainable goals and nutrition. Read my Q&A with Dr. Macklin and Sari Nisker for more on the Dare to Do 30 program here!

To sign up for the Dare to Do 30 challenge contact Sari Nisker at sari@spynga.com

See my slideshow of pictures from the class below -- Special thanks to Sari Nisker for taking the photos for me, as spinning and snapping pics was a little hard to manage.

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Guinea Pig Experiment #28: Pole Dancing a la Re-Vamped

Scotch Mommy — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 15:09:00 GMT

The Problem:
I’ve discovered after a recent break up that I’ve lost my mojo in a major way. I am painfully aware that the thought of consuming two Hostess Cupcakes consecutively generates more excitement in me than Brad Pitt’s washboard abs in Thelma & Louise. In general, I feel pretty grody and even I wouldn’t want to sleep with me.

Hypothesis:
I know that getting back into the routine of my regular yoga classes will help me feel healthier, but is stretching with 10 other women in a room where farting and the odd snooze is acceptable really the key to unlocking my mojo? Somehow, I think not. In the words of that sexual sage Justin Timberlake, I begin to wonder what could possibly help "bring my sexy back".

Variables:
I toss around the idea of burlesque dance lessons but I decide that, as I have all the grace of a three-legged hyena, no matter how much training is involved, Dita Von Teese’s poise cannot be learned. So pole dancing classes it will be. I mean, it’s just prancing around a pole, right?

Procedure:
With visions of molding myself into the likes of Demi Moore in Striptease, I contact Aradia in Toronto and find out if I can join a beginner’s pole dancing class. I’m told yes and that the current crop of students possesses varying degrees of ability, which is music to my ears given my embarrassing lack of coordination.

I arrive for class in leggings and a t-shirt long enough to cover up my jelly belly and meet the instructor, Chona. The room is painted a deep red and there seem to be a dozen floor-to-ceiling brass poles spread across it. The day of my class the air is thick in the city and heavy rain is on the way—so, hot and sticky plus cavernous pole room, equals one point for sexy. The music is switched on and Chona leads us in some stretching exercises. We work on our arms and our legs, we swirl our feet around in semi-circles this way and that, we drag mats over and we work on abs. We strike modified downward dog poses and I begin to question whether I’ll ever see any pole action. Then Chona shows us how to sit up from the mat in a position called the "mud-flap girl", referring to the outline of the girl on the mud-flaps of big trucks. Strike another point for sexy and I can now start to feel the rumblings of my deeply buried mojo. Then she shows us how to get up to standing position in a sultry, striptease way. I see myself in the mirror and I stifle a giggle. At this point we move on to the pole and we’re shown how to walk around it, and how to move our bodies around it whilst facing outward, which involves some deft hand movements. As I move I’m suddenly on my tip toes wearing imaginary heels feeling like I might break into a Flashdance if it weren’t for the other people in the room.

As the other ladies in the class are at a more advanced level than I, Chona spends a few minutes teaching me the "fireman spin." After a few demos, I stand a foot away from the pole, which is on my right, and I grab hold with both hands, I place my left ankle across the bottom of the pole and I propel myself forward into a shambolic half-spin, which sees me crumple to the ground in an unflattering heap. It is at this moment that I develop a new respect for proper pole dancers. Not just the ones that prance around it, the ones that actually use it. I get up and try it again, this time attempting the correct landing, which is not a landing at all, but an upward slide up the pole after I’ve slid down. I half get it, but it’s not until what seems like my hundredth spin when dizzy-ness sets in that I feel I’m closer to getting this one move down. I sneak a peak at Chona and am amazed to see her teaching the others the "diamond", a move that sees her lifting her entire body in a triangular shape halfway up the pole just using her hands and arms. I glance up at the clock and realize that the time has flown and class is over.

Analysis:
Once I leave Aradia, I suddenly feel energized, as though I’ve had an intense workout minus the sweat. I notice I’m walking tall and my belly, after being stretched, curled and tightened, isn’t wobbling as much (it was probably in some sort of paralyzed shock). I instantly pop into a shoe shop, slip on a pair of heels and as I look at myself in the mirror in my black leggings I think, I would date me. Sixty-five dollars later, I’m on my way home with a smile on my face.

Conclusion:
Admittedly, there were moments during the class when I felt I looked an absolute fool and that, given my two left feet, attempting to do anything more than walk in a straight line in public, never mind pole dance, could only end in humiliation and possible injury. But then I realized that after a few tries I actually could pull off the spins and turns. Would I be confident enough to try the moves on a date? Perhaps if it was with a fireman and I were tipsy enough. I did think that after a few more classes I would feel physically stronger and I imagined that having the ability to hold my whole body in the air on a pole just using my arms could only be good news for my self-esteem. So did I get my "sexy" back? Well, it is definitely on its way.

Written by: Anne Marie Kirsten

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Guinea Pig Experiment #27: Argan Oil Scalp and Face Treatment

Scotch Mommy — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 16:32:00 GMT

Problem:
I’m tired of watching the real housewives of New York, Orange County, Atlanta and New Jersey get all the pampering. I need to spend a little quality time on myself, in beautiful surroundings, getting the star treatment.

Hypothesis:
I’ve never had a facial or scalp treatment but it sounds unbelievably luxurious so I decide to set up an appointment at Body Blitz to try out their new Face and Scalp Renewal treatment, using argan oil. Argan oil is the new “it” anti-aging product and is being hailed as “liquid gold” by the New York Times while Elle and Vogue have been raving about it for a year.

Variables:
I am a busy working mom in need of some serious pampering à la Real Housewives. Only problem is, I might just get used to these sorts of spa treatments and will need a whole new revenue stream.

Procedure:
My treatment provider, Anne, greets me and takes me back to the lovely room where she will pamper me for the better part of an hour. For the first part of the treatment, lovely scented argan oil is massaged into the scalp. This is possibly the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced. My toes are tingling, my body is immediately relaxed, and I don’t want it to ever stop. Once my scalp is massaged and my hair coated in oil, it’s wrapped in a chamomile-soaked towel. Then Anne uses an exfoliating scrub on my face, followed by a green clay mask. The exfoliation helps stimulate blood circulation and revitalizes the skin. The green clay face mask draws out impurities and firms the skin.

While the mask sits on my face, Anne moves down to give me a foot massage, rubbing the aching muscles of my calves and massaging the sore points on my feet. She then removes the mask with another chamomile-soaked towel and applies argan oil to my face. While applying the oil, she gently massages all the pressure points. I’ve never had a face massage before but it’s amazing how much tension I was carrying in my jaw. After the face massage, Anne washes the argan oil out of my hair and adds conditioner.

This treatment is billed as tackling the signposts of aging—skin tone, elasticity, hydration, and revitalization—and by the end I sure feel like I am a new woman.

Analysis:
My treatment provider, Anne, is so thoughtful, she helps me as I get off the bed. I’m sure she does it because people are probably so relaxed they appear unsteady. I feel like the gravitational pull of the earth is 10 times stronger than usual. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more relaxed. And I can’t stop touching my face. My skin feels like buttery smooth velvet. If I weren’t so sleepy I would want to head out for cocktails with my favourite real housewife pals at the nearest swanky lounge. Instead, it’s home to the family.

Conclusion:
I might not have a McMansion in the Hamptons, a fleet of black Mercedes, or a trust account for my children, but that doesn’t mean I can’t pamper myself like one of the Real Housewives. Once in a while, I am going to book an appointment for my own personal moment of Zen, where Anne can massage warm oil in my scalp and make my face feel like a million bucks. And in between treatments, I’ll just live vicariously through the Real Housewife ladies.

Written by: Reni Walker

Guinea Pig Experiment #26: Mocha Java Revamp

Sporty Vixen — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 13:56:00 GMT

The Problem:

As with anyone who has ever been dumped, fired from a job, failed an exam, passed over for promotion or disappointed to the point of uncontrollable sobbing and self-flagellation might know, it is monumentally difficult to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. And, if you have ever had to scrape yourself off the proverbial ground after such drama, you are also likely aware that no amount of cheerleading by well-meaning friends and family, nor copious amounts of booze will truly do the trick and get you back on the horse (ok, I promise, no more clichés). Therefore, what is often called for in these situations is an attitude renaissance – a re-birth of your sense of self, if you will. Apart from indulging in mind and mood altering drugs, a safer way to go about this change might be to revamp the body and hope that your mind will follow.

Hypothesis:

As with me, said unceremonious dumping has already had an impact on my bod, with the unintended effect of melting away those stubborn last five pounds I have been meaning to lose. So with a mascara-streaked face, puffy eyes and a slightly less doughy mid-section, I head to the spa to scrub up.

Variables:

We’ve all been to the spa or had a spa-like experience (yes, your aunt Josie painstakingly trimming your cuticles and painting your nails at age 10 counts), but would this qualify as a ‘revamp’? Is having my body exfoliated within an inch of its life, then slathered in gunk the key to ever-lasting Suzanne Somers-style optimism and an Elle Macpherson bum?

Procedure:

Since there can be no messing around with my revamp, I make a bee-line for the Dove Spa where I meet the patron saint of head massages, Fatima. At first, the spa itself seems to possess a sort of ‘Lucid Dream’, ethereal-yet-clinical feel and I forget that I’m not Tom Cruise in the film Vanilla Sky, gearing up to have myself cryogenically frozen. I change into a robe and then wait in a calming, dimly lit lounge where quotes about inner beauty are pasted across the walls. “Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical,” proclaims Sophia Loren, she of the heaving bosom and age-defying animal magnetism. ‘Hmmm, I bet you’ve never been dumped lady,’ I mutter to no one in particular.

When I had scanned the spa’s services on the website I searched high and low yet couldn’t seem to locate a ‘suction-fat-out-of-body and re-sculpt-figure-into-that-of-taut-17-year-old-supermodel’ option. So, after momentarily toying with the bust-firming Treasure Chest treatment and a serious consideration of the colonic, yuck factor notwithstanding, I went for the much kinder sounding Mocha Java Body Wrap and aromatherapy massage.

Fatima then ushers me into an even more dimly-lit room where she tells me about my impending procedures. After I threw on my paper bra and thong and brushing the fear of a paper cut down there aside, I hopped onto the thermal-heated bed. Fatima began by gently, yet thoroughly exfoliating my skin top to bottom (all the better to absorb the calorie-melting caffeine) and then proceeded to apply the chocolate-y mixture in nearly all of my nooks and crannies. The concoction contains a combination of moor mud, coffee extract, caffeine, vitamin E and hemp oil, which is said to stimulate cell circulation and help reduce what I define as the bane of womanhood, cellulite. When I declined to have my mid section seen to out of embarrassment over the squidginess of it all, Fatima kindly offered that she had yet to mocha-java a perfect figure. Did I forget to mention that she also qualifies as patron saint of the recently dumped?

I was then swaddled in what seemed like a warm, tin foil blanket and left to baste. Fatima then moved on to the head massage to end all head massages. Suffice it to say by the end of it I was a blithering fool, no longer capable of speech. Practically drunk from massage, I stumbled into the shower to wash off the chocolate mud - more mud than chocolate, to which I can attest after a sneaky lick- and fell back onto the cozy bed refreshed and ready for my aromatherapy massage. With the murmur of babbling brooks and flute music playing in the background, Fatima skillfully eased out the tension in my limbs, fraught after days of anxiety and depression. My legs, my back, my arms, my shoulders, my hands, my feet – all the parts that had been neglected over the past few weeks were now getting the attention they deserved. I drifted in and out of a lavender-scented haze feeling like I could certainly get used to this doting.

Analysis:

When I left the spa I felt as though I had been medicated. My skin was baby-soft, I was calm, I felt at ease, the knot in my stomach had loosened, I felt fresher, and dare I say, kinda pretty. I felt as though someone had turned the page.

Conclusion:

Now I know that a day at the spa is no replacement for a therapist or prozac, but having myself decadently coated in chocolate and massaged is surely therapy of sorts. For those of us who have carved out quite a home within a depressive funk, it’s not so easy to attack new challenges in a ra-ra, go-get-em fashion, nevermind attempting some sort of revamp. We need to baby-step our way to a new outlook, and going to the spa helped get me up from under the duvet and out through the front door. For an hour or so I allowed myself to focus on the things that make me happy rather than sad. It showed me that even if my emotional inside still had quite a distance to travel, my outside sure could scrub up nicely in a jiffy and bring me back some much needed, if shaky, optimism. Did I leave with a pert, caffeinated bum? No. Did I leave with a new respect for the wise words of Sophia Loren? Yes indeed.

Written by: Anne Marie Kirsten

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Guinea Pig Experiment # 25: Nudist Camp

Sporty Vixen — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 16:36:00 GMT

The Problem:

I need to get over myself. What I mean is, I need to face my body issues head on and deal with them. So, what’s a chub to do? I decided what better way to do this than getting naked in front of a lot of people. Yup, I decided to spend the weekend at a nudist camp! Fresh air, close to the city, and no packing required!

The Other Problem:

Nobody will go with me! People tend to stare at you in horror when you mention it. Now, of course, you can go by yourself but that’s no fun and, quite honestly, nobody will probably believe that you took the dare and went. One of my buddies finally agreed. He’s quite the “tree-hugger” and thinks nothing of doffing his clothes and getting in some volleyball if the opportunity presents itself…with sunscreen, of course.

Procedure:

Do some research to find the nudist camp that suits you and your lifestyle because trust me; there are all different kinds with different atmospheres. I chose Glen Echo Family Nudist Park. Glen Echo has been around for a long time and they cater to family-style recreation. It’s a fairly quick drive just north of Toronto.

You can go for the day or you can rent one of their cute woodsy cabins for the weekend. We opted for the weekend experience.

The hardest part is the ceremonious TAKING OFF THE CLOTHES and walking out into the sunshine in all your naked glory. The beautiful part is that NOBODY CARES!!! Nobody cares what you look like or if you have love handles or back fat. When you are there, it’s the most natural thing in the world to be naked. The only people that seem out of place are the folks that have just arrived and are getting their tour with their clothes still on!

Some people are new and many have been coming to Glen Echo for years. You will find a more mature crowd here, that generation that seemed to really get into the whole “naturalist” thing back in the 60s. They are lovely people that welcome anyone and everyone. My friend and I were asked to join the different activities that were going on. Can you believe I played three rounds of croquet in the buff? Picture that! Okay, actually don’t…

You know how great it feels to go skinny dipping, right? Well, the massive indoor pool and hot tub are a must! They are located in the huge recreation centre. Now, there is “nudist etiquette”: you must always have a towel to sit on.

And you never need to close your drapes. There’s no need to worry that someone may look in and catch you changing or walking around your cabin naked. You’re supposed to be naked! One quick word of warning, though: watch out for the turtles in the outdoor pool; they like to snap at “bits,” which we learned the hard way.

Analysis:

I wholeheartedly suggest that everyone take a day or weekend to just strip down and hang out, literally and figuratively. It’s an experience you won’t forget and you will probably learn something about yourself. Remember the sunscreen as there are parts of your body that have probably never spent a lot of time in the sun. And, of course, bug spray. And, hey, nudists aren’t crazy. At night when it gets chilly, they put on a sweatshirt!

Conclusion:

People need to get over their body issues. We are driven by a society that places too much emphasis on how you look. Let’s get out of the negative and into something positive. Now that I’m married, I’ve asked my husband to go up to Glen Echo for the weekend to relive the experience. He said he would only go if he could carry a very large guitar.

Written by: Denise Meneray

Guinea Pig Experiment #24: Bootcamp

Zach Feldberg — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 18:10:00 GMT

The Problem:
Winter hibernation combined with holiday eat-a-thons from Thanksgiving through Easter have left me feeling less than fit. Sure, I own weights, yoga mats, a yoga ball and various workout DVDs, but those don’t help when you have absolutely no motivation to start exercising solo.

Hypothesis:
If I allow my best friend to pressure me into enlisting in boot camp torture, I face dual ridicule from her and the fitness instructor for missing a session. Guilt alone should motivate me to attend and therefore see (and feel) results.

Variables:
I’m in mediocre shape. My usual fitness regimen includes walking, rollerblading and some indoor floor hockey, but breaking a sweat usually occurs once a week during a half hour of cardio. Due to vacationing in Cuba and a busy schedule, I begin class in the third week, so I have missed the progression from a moderate to an advanced workout. I’m scared.

Procedure:
Preparation for outdoor boot camp is an art in itself. I must lug a gym bag packed with the necessities with me to work: workout clothes, water bottle, runners and yoga mat (NB: Winners stores, in Toronto at least, are currently selling a gym-bag-friendly folding yoga mat for under $20). At 5pm sharp, I bolt from my desk to the washroom where I have to change into said workout gear and dash to the subway to meet Best Friend.

I arrive at BeeLeeve Bod Boot Camp which is conveniently located in the beautiful Etobicoke, Ont. outdoors, directly on my route home from work. Class begins promptly at six and runs for one hour. It’s recommended you leave your ‘cutest whites’ at home. Check.

BeeLeeve owner, model and fitness competition winner Brandi Latimer, is a warm, welcoming and chiseled example that this workout gets results. She unpacks a plethora of fitness equipment I’ve never touched before, including pilates balls and resistance bands. Skipping ropes make me happy. What girl can’t skip for hours while reminiscing of childhood, right? Wrong.

Warm-up is three laps around the park. I’m told that it was two laps until last week and am sad to have missed the four easier sessions. To my amazement, I manage to easily run the three laps and finish first, wondering why the rest of the ladies are finishing afterwards. (This is their third week, after all...)

Circuit training includes push-ups, squats, jumping, lunges and sit-ups. In my third round I feel like I am actually going to throw up, so I stop for a much-needed H20 break. As I catch my breath and wonder why I’m putting myself through this, I begin to realize why the rest of the class leisurely trotted through warm-up laps.

After what seems like a never ending circuit, we start some body resistance exercises. I’m discouraged to find that my arms feel like gelatin, but Brandi’s encouragement goes a long way at motivating me to give it what I’ve got.

By the time we’re into abs, yoga and stretching I know I’ve made it through the first class. I think I deserve DQ as a reward but restrain myself.

Analysis:
The pain I am in for two days afterwards is awful but it makes me feel good. My arms, thighs, abs and sides ache, leaving no doubt in my mind that this is an amazing full body workout.

In subsequent classes, improvements are noticed by both myself and Brandi: The dizziness and nausea from class one doesn’t return and my form is better. The classes do continue to challenge and muscles still hurt into the third week.

Regardless, Best Friend and I get an excuse to hang at least two times per week (though Brandi offers up to four sessions Monday through Thursday), pairing up for relay races and motivating each other to improve along the way.

Conclusion:
The intensity of a boot camp workout gets results (though I haven’t been partaking long enough to see physical results, other boot-campers have). I definitely feel physically and mentally healthier.

My fellow boot-campers range from those who lack motivation (like me) to dedicated exercisers who are there for a diverse, challenging class. If you enjoy being outdoors and are seeking an hour-long, full body workout that is constantly changing and challenging while still being fun, then this is for you.

Written by: Danielle Montgomery

Guinea Pig Experiment #23: Therapeutic Waters

Scotch Mommy — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 13:32:00 GMT

The Problem:
I need a mini-vacation. I find myself staring wistfully at pictures of the Aegean or Caribbean, imagining wading into the warm turquoise waters and feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after a week away. Then, reality hits like a cement truck as it occurs to me that there is a complete lack of luxury and relaxation in my life. My days and nights are filled with dreary drudge: the morning rush, a day of work, evenings filled with tasks, extra-curricular activities, and chores. I need more beauty, luxury, and sensual relaxation in my life.

Hypothesis:
I am in a rut and need to reinvigorate myself. If I take regular breaks to relax and surround myself with refreshing environments, I will be more rested and relaxed. My plan is to bring outer beauty within by lounging in opulent pools of warm waters and sipping chai lattes and fruit smoothies.

Variables:
There are lots of ways I could approach this problem, but I’ve decided on one that includes the least amount of work for me. One of my favourite beautiful places is the Body Blitz Spa in downtown Toronto, and its best feature, in my opinion, is its system of pools that you cycle through for a therapeutic water treatment. Within one hour, I can be rested, relaxed, and refreshed.

Procedure:
After storing my clothes in a locker and showering, I enter the main pool room and slip into the large Dead Sea salt pool to begin my “circuit”. These warm (98°F) waters are said to promote pain relief, improve joint mobility, aid in the elimination of toxins, and replenish the body with essential minerals. I’m sure it does all that, but between the sound of the waterfall and the delicious chai latte in my hand, all I know is that I’m in my version of Heaven.

To maximize the benefits of this therapeutic process, you are supposed to follow the warm pool with 5-10 minutes in the aromatherapy steam room (105ºF), followed by one minute in the cold plunge pool (66ºF). Do not skip the steam room—you need it to raise your body temperature to give yourself a fighting chance of submersing yourself in the plunge pool. Sixty-six degrees is bloody frigid but it provides invaluable health benefits: it reduces body temperature (natch!), improves energy levels, tightens pores, stimulates the thyroid, improves circulation, maintains a healthy heart rate, and tones the body. Of course, you won’t believe how long one minute can go on when you’re trying to submerge your body up to your neck in freezing cold water. After the plunge pool, you’re off to the infrared sauna (90ºF) for 5-10 minutes. The infrared provokes a sweating effect that’s up to three times stronger than traditional saunas, so you get a complete body detox.

From the sauna it’s off to the showers for a rinse and then back into the cold plunge pool. This time, it’s even harder to stay in for a minute but from here you can move on to the hot green tea pool (106ºF), which is the warmest of all the pools in the circuit. Soaking in tea baths has been around for centuries and it’s believed to stimulate the immune system.

From there, it’s another cleansing shower, finished off by another dip in the cold plunge pool. This is where the treatment circuit ends, but I like to finish off with a relaxing lounge in the warm sea salt pool while enjoying one of the spa’s many fruit smoothies.

Analysis:
Anyone who’s lounged in a hot tub for more than five minutes knows how hot and lethargic you can feel afterwards, but this circuit leaves you feeling refreshed and energized. I actually feel like I’ve had a mini vacation and it only cost me $48 (plus tax). For optimal health benefits, I will try to work this into my routine once a month and see if oozing out all those toxins produces any measurable long-term health improvements.

Conclusion:
We’re living in tough times and all work and no play can leave you feeling like you’re one of the Undead instead of the happy, fulfilled individual you want to be. Rather than splurging on a full-on vacation to a tropical and secluded paradise where I can recharge, I spent the better part of an afternoon and little more than $50 on detoxing and de-stressing in therapeutic waters. In this case, a change was as good as a rest.

Written by: Reni Walker

Guinea Pig Experiment #22: Reiki

Scotch Mommy — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 15:12:00 GMT

The Problem:
“Problem” might not be the right word, but a general feeling of malaise or tension seems to fit the bill. Recent upheavals in my life have left me feeling a little out of sorts and the fact that I am a worry wart extraordinaire seems to be clearing the way for my speedy entry into what seems to be an increasingly populated land called Anxiety Disorder.

Hypothesis:
Drugs are out of the question (why trade one issue for another?). Therefore, something natural would be appropriate. Something as soothing and enjoyable as herbal tea, with the effect of the one-two punch of Prozac. Does this exist? Not really, but I decide to give Reiki a try. Reiki is known as a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that is said to promote healing, while tapping into an unlimited supply of life force energy to improve health and quality of life. It is administered by a person trained in the practice who essentially lays their hands on your person. And before your mind imagines all sorts of naughtiness, it’s not that kind of “lay.”

Variables:
How does a straight-talking, rational on the outside, barmy on the inside person stand a chance at making it through a Reiki session without feeling the need to run to the loo mid-way and laugh hysterically at the ludicrousness of it all? How does a street-savvy kinda chick such as moi allow a perfect stranger to actually touch her without instinctively allowing her foot to connect with said stranger’s shin? Enter Reiki Master Vivian Osal.

Procedure:
I find Vivian the way most people find things nowadays, on the Internet. Since having tried hypnotherapy, I am somehow able to park my skepticism at the front door. It also helps that when I arrive she doesn’t greet me by swinging through the doorway in a kimono in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon-style. Such odd things preconceptions are. Anyway, after I make my way to Vivian’s Zen-like, exotic-smelling office I have a seat and she tells me a little bit about herself, what drew her to Reiki, how it has helped her and others and then, of course, she explains what will take place in the session. So far, so sane.

Even after I admit my fear of cats (yes, you’ve read correctly) and rhyme off a litany of ailments in a manner that would put my granny to shame, the lovely Vivian remains composed and tells me that the purpose of Reiki is to clear blockages, whether they’re emotional, spiritual, or physical. She even tells me in what I deem a psychic manner that if I have to laugh, to just let myself. Being down with that, I hop onto the massage bed, but not before I’m made to drink 40 litres of water. Ok, it was just a glass, but not being a natural water drinker as it has no added sugar, I find this slightly difficult.

Anyway, as I lie on my back, Vivian shows me how to breathe properly, or rather how to breathe in such a way as to pave the way for tension relief. This consists of taking a deep breath, holding it for about two seconds, and then exhaling audibly through my mouth. I close my eyes. To start off, Vivian walks me through what she is doing, for example before she touches my ankles, she tells me, “I am now going to touch your ankles.” (Is she warning me because she can guess that I might accidentally give her a knee-jerk kick??) And so it continues with shins, thighs, chest, and belly, with varying degrees of pressure. At the beginning I am hyper-aware of a nagging arthritic pain I’ve had in my ankle as well as an achy part of my back, and I find it hugely difficult not to fidget and then not to worry that I’ve now become a fidgeting wreck. But before long I begin to follow Vivian’s instruction to let thoughts flow in and out of my mind with ease, and I stop focusing on the aches and fidgeting. For what feels like centuries, I float in a seemingly semi-awake state and occasionally experience tingly sensations in whatever area is being touched. The session ends with Vivian saying my name, bringing me back to reality. I open my eyes with a feeling of utter relaxation, which she describes as an energy vacation.

Analysis:
Once I opened my eyes I remained still for a bit and then began to tell Vivian about my experience. I told her that I felt a sense of calmness, something I hadn’t experienced in a really, really long while. She told me that she could feel quite a bit of tension in my ankles and in my stomach (no surprise there for me) and could sense that I was carrying a bit of anxiety. After discussing the experience a little longer, Vivian said she felt it had gone well and explained that after a period of what she felt amounted to physical apprehension on my part, I seemed to let go.

Conclusion:
Reiki may not be for everyone because everyone processes emotional ups and downs or ailments in a variety of ways. I have a friend that enviably seems to let stress and drama roll off her like water off a duck’s back. I, in turn, allow things to fester, which is clearly unhealthy, but is something many people do. My Reiki session was fantastic, if not just for the nuggets of wisdom passed on to me by Vivian. I have taken several things away: the first is that nothing will upset or affect me negatively unless I allow it to, the second is my new favourite saying, “Lean of body, lean of mind,” a nod to all the extra stuff I unnecessarily carry around every day, and the third is, if all else fails, just breathe. So obvious, you say? The growing popularity of Reiki shows us that it’s not so obvious at all. Try it, you’ll see.

Written by: Anne Marie Kirsten

Guinea Pig Experiment #21: Hypnotherapy

Scotch Mommy — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 20:19:00 GMT

The problem:
The recent onset of insomnia and a 25-year-long fear of cats. The fear of cats is not interfering with my daily life (just impacting my ability to accept dinner invitations at homes where said critters roam), but the insomnia is.

Hypothesis:
Figuring that my subconscious is messing with me in more ways than one, and loathe to committing myself to years of psychotherapy, the solution is to attempt conquering my fears and mental gremlins with hypnotherapy.

Variables:
I have been known to enjoy order in my life and participate in the odd bit of control-freakery. I like to check things off lists; execute plans in a systematic and timely fashion; drive at the speed limit and, essentially, colour within the lines. Therefore, the question really is, could I possibly allow myself to stroll down the road of hypnosis where I might compound my fear of cats and sleep by adding to it a new fear – the fear of being made to bark like a dog, moon passersby at the sound of a whistle or speak with a Jamaican accent after counting backwards from 20?

Procedure:
After some online research and comparison shopping, I find a qualified hypnotherapist, Margit Herberger (www.lifeisvaluable.com), who is up to the monumental task of getting my mental house in order. There is some brief correspondence and an appointment is booked. I arrive at Margit’s home office with a hint of apprehension, but very soon I am welcomed into her warm house with a warm smile and the angst begins to ebb away.

I had been told that the first appointment is usually 90 minutes long, allowing for some discussion about why I am there, what I would like to achieve, and then of course the hypnotherapy itself. After answering some pointed questions, I come to realize that it’s actually a miracle that I’m not a complete apoplectic wreck. The last six months for me have seen a move from one country to another, the soul destroying hunt for a new home during an historic market crash, and the start of a new job - all mixed in with a dash of anxiety over whether my South African husband will love or hate this frigid land. We speak about how I feel when I go to bed and the things that I’m thinking about when I can’t sleep, and from there, those thoughts are broken down further. Margit suggests we begin the process of peeling away some of the emotional layers and says that, perhaps if we deal with the insomnia (or fear of sleep as I call it), my other irrational fears (cats) and anxieties will also fall away. I tell her that I, like others, harbor some skepticism about whether hypnosis will work for me, and Margit kindly explains that my making the decision to solve the problem and to try hypnotherapy shows that I am open to it working, which can only be positive.

Let's get things straight: I’m a meat-and-potatoes kinda gal. I’m the person that usually scoffs at any mention of new-agey healing. But I’m also a desperate person. So when Margit pulls her chair closer and begins the hypnotherapy, which in its essence is the process of being placed in a state of complete relaxation, I am ok with it. I realize that all she is doing is speaking to me in a calm manner and that I am conscious and in control, albeit in a relaxed way. She cannot make me do something that I do not want to do or that I would not normally do. So, just like in the movies, I count backwards. After a series of suggestions given to me in a state of seeming wakefulness, it’s all over. I open my eyes hoping and praying I am transformed.

Analysis:
At bedtime, several hours after my hypno session, I have an easy time falling asleep, but I chalk this up to the cumulative exhaustion of the previous week and the fact that it’s Saturday night, which means no pressure to get up early the next day. The real test comes on Sunday night, the night of the week that has consistently provided me with plenty of insomnia-filled hours over the last month. The night where I usually find myself anticipating the week ahead, thinking about all that I have to do in the coming days, while continuously looking over at the alarm clock counting down how many hours I have left to try to force myself into sleep. Following Margit’s advice, I create a sense of calm in my room and dispense with anything that might impede Zen-like feelings or cause sensory overload, such as bright lights and the television news. I read a chapter of my book and suddenly, magically, I’m sleepy. I place my book on the bedside table, switch off the lamp and, after a few breaths, I seem to ease into sleep.

Conclusion:
It might seem obvious to some that reading a book or magazine before bed, avoiding caffeine and drinking a hot cup of milk induces sleep. But I attempted these tricks time and again in the height of my sleeplessness with little or no success. I believe that the sense of anxiety over what would happen to me each and every night, the anticipation of bedtime and how dreadful I would feel when the inevitable insomnia would take hold, needed to be switched off. Through hypnotherapy it seems that the switch has been turned off…for now. It’s up to me to continue to let it function and to continue to look at the world in a rational way. Now, do I have the courage to stand in a room full of cats? Perhaps I could use a second session with Margit after all.

Written by: Anne Marie Kirsten

Guinea Pig Experiment #20: Scuba

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 13:00:00 GMT

The Problem:
My boyfriend wanted to ogle me in a sexy swimsuit during the winter. Instead of giving me one of Bikini Bay’s finest thongs for Christmas, he decided to enroll me in a NAUI SCUBA diver course with the University of Toronto’s Hart House Underwater Club.

Hypothesis:
I will prove to myself (and my boyfriend) that I am SCUBA-worthy.

Variables:
I have been known to crack under pressure, so descending into the deep with nothing but my terror and some clever inventions seemed like a recipe for disaster of Titanic proportions.

Procedure:
The winter course runs Tuesday evenings from January to April. The classroom sessions begin 7 p.m. sharp in the Benson Building at University of Toronto’s Athletic Centre. It’s here where you soak up everything from how to avoid decompression sickness (ouch) to underwater compass navigation (whoa).

The real fun begins at 8:30 p.m. when students don the SCUBA gear in the pool and learn about buoyancy and the buddy system. If you don’t have a buddy, the instructors pair you with someone (possibly one of the super-sexy engineer-types who tend to enroll in this course).

After toweling off, the class gathers at a local pub where students drown their SCUBA sorrows in a pint of Heineken, while instructors swap their tall tales.

The final hurrah is the certification weekend in Tobermory, Ontario. In order to obtain a NAUI SCUBA Diver certification card, which allows you to dive anywhere in the world, students must complete five open water dives off the coast of the beautiful Bruce Peninsula.

Analysis:
This program allows you to master the basics of SCUBA over a longer period of time than the conventional weekend crash course. After 11 weeks of training, my completely sensible fear of breathing underwater began to subside.

However, using a regulator isn’t as frightening as the price tag attached to SCUBA. Expect to fork over $275 (for Hart House members) or $325 (for non-members) for the course.

But wait, there’s more. Depending on how stylish you care to look in front of sea creatures, you can spend anywhere between $300 and $560 on your own snorkelling gear. Also, the Club’s certification weekend can hit the wallet hard at a cost of $285. So, if you’re searching for a cheap hobby, stick to Facebook snooping or high-stakes Tiddlywinks tournaments.

Conclusion:
I subjected my body and mind to the pressures of the deep and survived. When I set my eyes on the spectacular shipwrecks and majestic wildlife, I was hooked. My fears quickly dissolved as I explored an alien world that was beautiful beyond imagination.

Aside from the crime of having to shave my legs every week during the winter and shelling out quite a pretty penny, I thoroughly enjoyed this comprehensive course.

Data:

Toronto:
Hart House Underwater Club
SCUBA Certification Course
7 Hart House Circle
University of Toronto
http://www.utoronto.ca/hhuc/
Hart House Membership Services office: (416) 978-4732

Written by: Stephanie Silliker

Guinea Pig Experiment #19: Cellulite Cream

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 13:00:00 GMT

The Problem:

With a fun-in-the-sun vacation planned in 10 days and no real desire to work out, my dimply thighs aren’t getting any thinner and those dimples seem keen to accompany me on my trip.

Hypothesis:

If I use a fancy anti-cellulite solution, my thigh dimples will diminish so I’m beach-ready and liposuction-free.

Variables:

I don’t think there’s much danger in slathering my thighs in Dior’s Plasticity Anti-Cellulite Corrective Gel, and I’m definitely hoping to see results.

If you aren’t familiar with cellulite, you probably own many pairs of hot pants. Cellulite is a layer of fat under the skin, usually on the thighs and bum, which looks dimply and bumpy because there are fibrous strands of tissue that run between the fat cells and are attached to the bottom layer of skin.

Plasticity promises results and promises that they’ll become more impressive every day. It’s supposed to work both on the skin’s surface and below it, working in three stages: day one you’ll see an instant optical effect. By day eight, you’ll see an intense smoothing effect and by day 30, thighs will be refined and thinner.

I only have 10 days, so I’ll only get to see the “intense smoothing effect,” but that’s all I’ll really need to get me through a week of bikini-wearing. Seeing as I’m not a regular hot pant wearer, the odds of me continuing the Plasticity routine are slim to none anyway. I obviously have to use it regularly to see results so I’m leaving the bottle on my desk next to my favourite thing – my computer. Hey, at least it’s not on my coffee table in front of my TV, next to a bag of potato chips, okay?

Procedure:

After getting out of the shower on day one, I squirt some Plasticity into my hand. It’s kind of orangey brown in colour – not unattractive, but not super glamorous. Of course I will be smearing it on my bum, so who am I to complain? Luckily, it smells pretty good. You can pick up a bit of an alcohol scent but mostly it has a pleasant, subtle perfume.
Dimply is a kind word to describe my thighs so I happily massage the gel into my skin, as directed. Dior suggests doing this once or twice a day.

Analysis:

I’m expecting instant gratification as promised by the “instant illusion of smoother skin” but it doesn’t really happen. A few minutes after the application, I walk by the mirror again and it might just be me, but I think my thighs do look smoother. I’m not sure, though.
On Day two, I apply Plasticity both morning and night. In the morning, I slather, throw on clothes and head to work, so there’s really no time to check out the results. In the evening however, I slather and stare. After the gel dries, there really is a minor smoothing effect. The dimples are not as pronounced. The bigger pockets of fat are still quite apparent, but I didn’t really expect those to go anywhere.

As the week continues, I continue to see instant results and am beginning to think I see cumulative smoothing.

Conclusion:

To be honest, the results are so subtle, it’s hard to tell how well Dior’s Plasticity works, but I will go out on a limb and say that it definitely works. There is something in the drying of the gel that in the least, creates a cosmetic smoothing effect. Eight days after my first application, I think my bum and thighs look less like cottage cheese and more like ricotta (mmmm, cheese) and that’s all I can ask for.

Written by: Vanessa Grant

Guinea Pig Experiment # 18 - Airbrush Foundation

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 12 May 2008 13:00:00 GMT

The Problem:
I want skin that looks flawless, photoshopped and, well, airbrushed.

Hypothesis:
If I get someone to literally airbrush my face, my skin will look high-def TV-ready.

Variables:
Have you ever seen an on-air personality in person? I don’t want to end up looking like I’m wearing an inch of foundation. I want to look flawless in person and M.A.C senior makeup artist, Jane, tells me that airbrush foundation is all the rage.

There are two kinds of airbrush makeup made by M.A.C: one I can apply myself (it’s called Studio Mist but you spray the makeup onto a sponge or into your hand and apply it with a brush) the other, Micronized Airbrush, requires an actual air compressor and some serious training.

I’m totally cool with the Studio Mist idea and I know that after a quick lesson, I can handle it on my own. The Micronized Airbrush method scares me a bit. I imagine makeup in my eyebrows and hair—and a whole lot of it on my face. I want to look perfect but like a perfect me.

Procedure:
Jane and Ricki, an artist at M.A.C’s Queen Street West store in Toronto, are fun and friendly and obviously know their stuff. Jane just returned from doing makeup at New York Fashion Week. She compliments my skin and fawns over my “super long lashes” and I’m sold. She now has my full attention and all my trust. Yes, I really am that easily swayed plus, need I remind you: New York Fashion Week.

Jane explains that there really isn’t any particular makeup that’s perfect for high definition. As long as it’s well applied by a makeup professional, your makeup will look ready for a close up. But there are obviously benefits to airbrush: it’s longwearing, light as air, and actually pretty sheer and natural looking.

After prepping my skin with Studio Moisture Fix and Strobe Liquid to make my skin plump and radiant, Jane adds about 12 drops of Micronized Airbrush formula to the airbrush dispenser cup. If you bought a bottle, that stuff would last years! She holds a tissue up against the edge of my face to protect my hair then I close my eyes and she sprays away. After a quick sweep, she has me check myself out in the mirror. You definitely can’t tell I’m wearing makeup. I just look fresh and clean and have a bit more radiance than my natural skin provides but I could still look more refreshed so she goes in for another sweep. She uses actual concealer to touch up under my eyes and the few spots I have on my chin and Ricki, an airbrush wiz, goes over the spots to smooth my complexion.

To finish the look, Jane contours my face using Mineralized Skin Finish powders, perks up my cheeks with Beauty Powder Blush (a gorgeous, fine-milled sheer blush), gives me smoky grey eyes (grey is the new black, you know ) with Silver Ring and Carbon eyeshadows, Technakohl liner and Zoom Lash Mascara. And she finishes my face with Viva Glam VI Special Edition lipglass in Fergie’s signature shade.

Analysis:
I’ve had my makeup done by a professional before but my skin has never looked like this. It feels and looks light and natural and the rest of my makeup went on smoothly and, despite how much I’m wearing, I look fresh and work-appropriate (which is good because I have to go back to the office).

Conclusion:
Airbrush makeup may not be for everyday but it’s a great option for a special night on the town, photoshoot, or wedding. And you can get a comparable look at home with Studio Mist Foundation, which is easy to apply and feels high tech.

Written by: Vanessa Grant

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Guinea Pig Experiment #17: Podfitness

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 05 May 2008 13:00:00 GMT

Get fit with your iPod

The Problem:

There’s a gym in my building that I never use because I don’t really like working out on machines. I prefer classes because I’m told exactly what to do and don’t get bored. A personal trainer might force me to power through more than 10 minutes before going back upstairs and eating chocolate… but I can’t afford one.

Hypothesis:

If I use Podfitness to download workouts personalized for me to music from my iTunes and narrated by a celebrity trainer, I’ll not only be getting the star treatment but I might actually begin to like the elliptical.

Variables:

Since I’ve never tried Podfitness before, I’m not ready to dole out the cash for a subscription. It’s $60 for 13 weeks. Luckily, there’s a free 10-day trial.

Procedure:

I’ve signed up for the free trial and downloaded the Podfitness program. Now it’s time to choose a workout. I answer questions on the kind of workout I want. I check boxes for Elliptical Training, Mat Pilates, Walking and Yoga as my preferred activities and hope and pray that I get some sort of awesome yoga workout where I have to guess what the moves look like based on instructions I listen to. My primary goal is to shape and tone and I want workouts that are 30 minutes or less (30 minutes is the minimum, unfortunately).

I’m given a choice of trainers and workouts, none of which involve laying on a mat: Elliptical Training with Adam Figueroa, he recommends five workouts a week, Walking with Kathy Smith, six workouts a week, and Walking with Debbee Sharpe, three times a week. Debbee’s is the shortest workout and she only wants me to do it three times a week! But alas, walking outdoors is not the point of the experiment so I go with Adam. He won’t know if I only hit the gym once a week.

Adam trains Bette Midler, Jamie Lynn Sigler and Yoko Ono. I was kind of hoping for Jessica Alba or Britney (Bobby Strom is her trainer and he is available on Podfitness) but my workout is ready to download and if Adam put the wind beneath Bette’s wings, he’s good enough for me.

Finally, I open iTunes and prep my playlist, then click to begin downloading my workout…and nothing happens. I keep getting error messages so I write an email to the Podfitness support team. I get a response the next day from a nice man who tells me that I probably don’t have the right operating system. He is correct but it’s $100 to upgrade so I take my iPod to work. Goodness, this is a lot of trouble already and I haven’t stepped on a machine! Note that Podfitness isn’t just for Macs, you can use it on a PC with iTunes or Zune.

I download Podfitness to my work computer and everything continues smoothly so later on I throw on my gym clothes and ride the elevator down to the gym with my iPod. A friendly guy named Joel tells me that he and my trainer Adam, will talk me through my workout. They even know and say my name, which is a nice, personal touch.

Joel gives me 30 seconds to find an elliptical machine. I am standing on one so I wait while Gwen Stefani sings (the only music I had uploaded to my computer at work was Gwen). Joel or Adam – I can’t really tell their voices apart – instructs me to warm up by setting the resistance to level four and moving smoothly for two minutes. I’m reminded when there’s only 60 seconds left.

Then, if I’m not mistaken, Joel tells me to continue for a three more minutes at a level of three out of ten. I’m not sure if he means resistance or energy level, so I obviously take advantage and set the resistance a bit lower. Joel sure does a lot of talking! When do I hear from Adam?

Joel/Adam, whoever is talking, gives me mini-pep talks while I’m striding. They tell me to keep going and share tips on how to use my legs. After a few more minor level increases, I’m instructed to crank ‘er up to 6 and warned that this should feel slightly difficult. Uh huh. Sure does. Right now I no longer want to be friends with Joel, Adam or Gwen really. She’s singing about making me sweat and I hate her.

The workout mostly continues like this, adjusting my energy level and resistance (I’ve realized that there is a difference and I was, in fact, cheating earlier) until I hear the blessed words “cool down.” The end of my work out is fairly anti-climactic, as Joel or Adam says, “Okay Vanessa. You’ve completed today’s Podfitness workout. Great job.” And then another male voice says, “You’re done. I hope you enjoyed your Podfitness workout. Pat yourself on the back for a job well done.”

Analysis:

I did get a good workout. My legs feel a bit weak and I sweat a lot. I was also more motivated than if I attempted the elliptical alone, but that might be because I had to write this story.

I’m not sure how much my trainer, Adam actually talked to me but having someone instruct me helped keep my attention.

Conclusion:

Podfitness is probably awesome if you’re a runner and lose inspiration and motivation after a few blocks. If you’re someone who is devoted to getting in shape and just needs an extra kick in the bum, this is probably a great investment. I don’t plan on following the five-a-week program, but I would consider trying Podfitness again for different kinds of workouts – running, walking, weights, cardio circuit.

Written by: Vanessa Grant

Guinea Pig Experiment #16: Parasailing in the Bahamas

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 13:00:00 GMT

The Problem:

I’m afraid of heights and I’ve never done anything nearly “extreme” enough.

Hypothesis:

If I go parasailing, I might slightly curb my fear of heights while having a great experience.

Variables:

I’ve already tried to curb my fear of heights with rock climbing (I was still very, very afraid), so I’m pretty sure that although I’m scared, I won’t die. Parasailing is mostly for amusement, it’s not a sport like hang gliding or paragliding. According to Wikipedia, parasailing was developed in 1961 by a dude named Brian Gaskin. Basically, you’re strapped to a parachute attached to a boat, which uses wind to get you airborne for a couple of minutes.

Parasailing is obviously a water activity, so make sure you don’t bring anything with you that you don’t want to get wet. You could go into the water, so it’s best to wear a bathing suit under your clothes.

Procedure:

I’m in the Caribbean (the Bahamas, to be exact), on an island called Half Moon Cay, exclusive to Holland America Line cruise ships. It’s gorgeous with flawless white sand and crystal blue water, so you better believe I want to get up in the air and see the sights from high, high above (despite my crippling fear of heights).

I board a boat with five other parasailers-to-be (only one of which has ever parasailed before) and two boat operators. The operator dude tells us that, yes, we will get wet and explains that there isn’t much for us to do in the way of controlling the parasail. Just have fun, it seems.

The first to go up is a nice lady from the Midwest who seems a little scared. But she’s, like, 50, so I figure I should be brave and just swallow my fear. When it’s my turn to go, my heart is pounding and I wonder if this harness thing has ever just snapped and dropped an unsuspecting parasailer to the bottom of the Atlantic. But I’m brave. I sit on the back of the boat and go up into the air. I’m hoisted above the boat into the air and I’m up with the clouds. I can see the boat and the entire island I was just on. I scream, but no one can hear me. I’m alone and everything is very quiet.

Analysis:

Let me say, however much you’re paying your therapist, it isn’t as valuable as this experience. I’m not religious, but I did feel like I was closer to God in that parasail. Exhilarating doesn’t even begin to describe it. Once you get past the initial thrill of being in the sky (sans airplane), it’s the most peaceful thing you could imagine. After this, the chances of me jumping out the side of an airplane went from zero to one point six percent. That’s pretty amazing. I might even be convinced to go bungee jumping one day!

Conclusion:

Even if you’re afraid of heights, this low-risk activity is completely safe and definitely worth the $90 or so that Holland America charges for parasailing.

Data:

Holland America Line
Cruises can be found online at www.hollandamerica.com
Book shore excursions like parasailing through their website or after you board.

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

If You Build It, I Will Come

Robotic Hottie — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #15: Habitat for Humanity Build

The Problem:

I lack basic carpentry skills… and a fellow.

Hypothesis:

If I volunteer for Habitat for Humanity, I’ll be helping a family gain affordable housing, learn to be handy, and look darn cute in a hardhat.

Variables:

I am not that good with tools. My brother usually helps me around the house, but I did get an A in grade eight shop class and I can put a mean Ikea shelf together given a few hours and an Allen key.
Habitat for Humanity is a non-profit that mobilizes in building affordable housing and promoting homeownership as a means to breaking the cycle of poverty. Habitat for Humanity International spans 93 countries and has built over 225,000 homes.

Procedure:

I arrive at the Habitat for Humanity Scarborough build site at 8:30 a.m. (the toughest part of the day was waking up on a Saturday morning at 6 a.m.) with my friend Alex. It’s a singles build, so each participant has to come with a single member of the opposite sex. We’re given waivers to sign and are directed to a shelf which is stocked with work boots of every size and hard hats.
After some introductions and instructions (we’re told “safety, quality and fun” are the main objectives of our time here), we’re put to work. Since there are about 15 participants, we’re broken up into groups. It’s February, so everyone breathes a sigh of relief when we’re told we’ll be working inside as a snowstorm works its way into a tizzy outside. My group is assigned to a house that’s already been drywalled and primed. Our job is to “mud” (or spackle) the walls. We learn how to properly clean, spackle and sand the surfaces we’ll be working with.
After a delicious lunch, we learn how to use power sanders. Apart from learning the safety and operation procedures, we have actual fun doing the work (who knew?).

Analysis:

Before the day began, I have to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to giving up a Saturday to do manual labour. But when I arrived at the site, it was immediately fun and I realized that I was learning an actual useful trade. Every time you volunteer, you learn a different skill that you can then put to use. I assumed that I’d be doing something girly because I had no experience with building. Instead, our team advisor, Frank, patiently taught us how to properly execute our tasks and showed us how to spackle and sand. Our team leader, Allison, whose day job is leading an IT team, tells me that Habitat for Humanity, “is like a weekly vacation. I sit down all day, so when I’m here, I’m moving around and learning so much. On a superficial level, I’m single and guys are really impressed when they find out that I spend my weekends building houses.”

Conclusion:

If you’re looking for something to do that will not only teach you new skills, but will go towards the greater good, this is an excellent choice. You don’t have to pay for the experience and you spend a day doing good. I mean, what else were you planning to do this Saturday, nurse a hangover? Check it out once and decide if it’s for you. If you decide you like it, there are programs that you can take advantage of to travel all around the world building houses for those in need. And it’s fun!

Data:

Habitat for Humanity
Women Build Program

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

The Cleanse - Part 3

Scotch Mommy — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 14:35:00 GMT

Part 3 of 3: She's Alive!

Day Ten: Sick of the cleanse

I’ve only got two days left. I’m sick of bananas and strawberries and being hungry. If I were better at this, I’d have a meal plan. But I’m not used to meal plans, I’m used to running out at lunch and picking up the closest, tastiest option. Now I think I don’t even want chocolate. I think it would make me feel sick. Darn it all. I just want MY LIFE BACK.

Day Eleven: One more day!

I ran around all day, so I’ve been distracted from not eating what I usually eat. I had my regular breakfast with some organic yogurt and grilled chicken with brown rice and steamed spinach for lunch, though I had to go home for lunch to make it and it disrupted my day.

I went to a concert with a friend of mine and instead of beer, had water. It was cost effective, but less fun than getting drunk!

Day Twelve: This is it

Okay, so today’s the day! I had bananas with organic yogurt for breakfast. I had green tea because I didn’t want to get all crazy with the regular tea. I decided that I’d “break the fast” and go to Subway for lunch. I ordered a whole wheat ham and cheese sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pepper and mustard. I had water after I ate (I learned on the cleanse not to drink with meals) and everything felt fine. In fact, I wolfed that sandwich down as if it were a delicacy!

Then, I bit the ears off a chocolate Easter bunny that I’d been saving since Day One. It was disgusting. About ten minutes later, I felt dizzy, lightheaded, headachy, and all-around sick. I guess I should read about phasing foods back in after the cleanse! Ugh! Stupid chocolate bunny. He looked so tasty. Who knew he was evil? I guess I’m not going to get drunk this weekend. If this is how I feel after eating a bite of chocolate, then I don’t want to know what a pint of beer would do to me.

Analysis:

If you have no toxins in your body, it’s pretty easy to get drunk. While I was drunk, I ate a sugary cupcake, which pretty much threw me back into the land of the sugar. I didn’t, however, indulge in caffeine for a long while. Five days to be exact. I went to get a tall non-fat no-whip mocha and after feeling the headache, dizziness, and nausea that I experienced after drinking half of it, I will not be drinking coffee for a long while. Otherwise, slowly phasing sugar back into the diet has been fine. I’ve decided to cut out white flour and white rice from now on since it was pretty easy for me to switch in the first place. Why not be healthier? As sick of my breakfast as I was last week, I’ve continued with the same breakfast and I still like it. No more banana bread for me in the morning.

Conclusion:

I lost two pounds, not that I was trying to lose weight (I know you were wondering), but I did feel healthier after the cleanse. I’m more aware of what’s in the food I eat, which is a good thing. The million-dollar question is, would I recommend doing a cleanse? The million-dollar answer is: definitely. Just make sure you have someone to do it with, because eating almond butter at home by yourself is a lonely endeavour.

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

The Cleanse - Part 2

Scotch Mommy — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 14:31:00 GMT

Part 2 of 3: Can Nicolle see it through to the end?

Day Six: Parties are less fun when you can’t eat the cupcakes

At the risk of sounding like a whinefest, weekends are the least fun on the cleanse! It was my cousin’s 30th birthday party and everyone was there and ragging on me for not drinking or eating any delicious-looking cupcakes. And being sober at a party where everyone else is kickin’ it with Johnny Walker isn’t that fun, either. My roomie came with me to the party, but we ended up leaving early because everyone else was drunk.

A guy at the bar offered to buy me a drink (that never happens!) and I had to decline because of the cleanse. Man alive! If you’re wondering what I ate, it’s just the same stuff I’ve been eating all along. I did bring some yummy ginger snaps to the party with me for the roomie and me to snack on. That stuff is good!

Day Seven: Brunch at Fresh

The roomie and I decided to meet our friend for brunch and figured that we could definitely find something to eat at Fresh, since it’s where hippies eat. We thought perhaps the pancakes would be okay—we were wrong. The only thing I could order was the Beach Bowl, which had rice with veggies and some herbs. I had to ask that olive oil not be included in mine, though. Since goat cheese is allowed, I had goat cheese on mine and that was crazy. I ate the meal like it was my last supper. I guess it tasted incredibly richer and tastier than the bland food that I’ve been eating.

I had a date planned, but I felt incredibly sluggish. The thought of sitting somewhere for an hour with someone who’d be drinking a delicious glass of wine or beer while I had yet another green f#$@ing tea was too much to bear, so I told the dude I was sick and rescheduled.

I discovered that my roommate has been having FOUR teaspoons of fibre a day. I’ve been having one. Things are, uh, running smoothly anyway, so I think I’ll just up the dosage to two teaspoons before bed instead of the one I’ve been taking. Oops.

Day Eight: The Monday blahs

The hard part is over! The weekend is done. I’ve pretty much flushed the bad stuff out of my system and the withdrawals are over. I still really want coffee and chocolate, but I’m not too broken up about it. I feel a lot less tired today and less tired than before the cleanse, even. I’ve fallen into a breakfast routine (bananas and strawberries with green tea), so I’m used to it and it’s pretty delicious.

For lunch, I had a measly two pieces of bread (which I went to three stores to get—organic whole grain blah blah) with some almond butter and half a cup of steamed spinach. Surprisingly, I wasn’t all that hungry for the rest of the day. For dinner, I made a delicious meal of salmon (rubbed with lime, extra-virgin olive oil, rosemary, pepper and sea salt), brown rice, and more spinach. I had green tea and ShaSha cookies for dessert. I’m getting used to this. I’m considering cutting out white flours and rice from now on because it’s pretty easy (unless you’re eating at a restaurant). I thought for a second that maybe I should continue eating this way, but who are we kidding? I loves me some chocolate.

Day Nine: Let’s try some exercise!

I had the regular for breakfast and for lunch I’ll have some soup and rice. One of the managers here brought in some delicious banana bread for everyone to try and it didn’t even faze me that I couldn’t eat it!

I worked out and it wasn’t awful! I thought for sure I’d fall over and die with the whole not consuming much, but the workout was good and I felt very energetic afterwards. The challenge came later, when I went to a night-time work event and couldn’t eat or drink anything except water and a few grapes. By the end of the night I was whiny, hyper, and lightheaded.

Read Part 3 of Nicolle's Guinea Pig

The Cleanse - Part 1

Scotch Mommy — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 14:16:00 GMT

Part 1 of 3: Can Nicolle go two weeks without chocolate?

The problem: My unhealthy eating habits.

Hypothesis: If my roommate and I do a cleanse, we’ll be healthier and understand what we’re putting in our bodies.

Variables: We have to cut out the following: dairy (except organic yogurt and goat yogurt), salt (except sea salt), sugar, white flour, white rice, fat, chocolate, yeast, additives and preservatives, oil (except extra-virgin olive oil), and caffeine (except green tea). We found this list on about.com and decided if there was anything we wanted to change, we could do so. The about.com list says to avoid gluten, but we were allowed to eat organic whole wheat bread that didn’t contain salt or oil. We have two teaspoons of psyllium fibre twice a day to aid… uh… digestion.

Procedure:

Day One: Goat yogurt is absolutely disgusting

Day one! Cleanse! It’s going to be awesome. And 12 days, that’s like, nothing. I can surely give up chocolate and the like for a measly 12 days. It’s like Survivor!

For breakfast, I have goat yogurt with granola mixed in. It tastes like sour milk. I don’t know what my roommate is yapping about when she’s talking about how delicious it is. Perhaps the cleanse is already making her go mad. Drinking psyllium fibre in water is disgusting. We’ve decided we only need one teaspoon a day instead of two, as it says on the package.

For lunch, I had organic vegetable soup and a yummy bagel, which contained no white flour. My roommate made us some delicious salmon and rice with veggies for dinner. Not too shabby. Pistachio nuts are good for snacking.

Day Two: The cleanse excuses me from being social

You can’t be very social when you can’t eat or drink anything at any establishment other than your own home or some health food store. I went out last night and everyone was ingesting beer and fried foods. I hadn’t really eaten much all day, so I had to go home. I prepared myself some of my signature dish (grape tomatoes and avocado with extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and fresh black pepper) and had some strawberries for dessert.

For breakfast, I bought some regular organic yogurt (thank God I don’t have to eat goat yogurt) and a banana. For lunch, I had some vegetarian chilli that my roomie thoughtfully prepared. I snacked on flatbread with almond butter. Pretty good.

Ugh, what’s with the headache?

Day Three: I HATE THE CLEANSE

Uh, chocolate? Where art thou? I wrote on the whiteboard in the office, “Days until chocolate: 9.” But that’s no help. I’m irritable and I can’t concentrate on anything. I have no idea if this is a result of the sudden elimination of caffeine or sugar. Either way, it SUCKS. I have a headache! I’d give up my firstborn to get a cup of joe with some sugar and cream. I miss sugar and cream and coffee. Oh, sweet, java, please come back to me. Just a taste…

Drinking all this water and annoying herbal tea means I have to go to the bathroom a lot. I think my boss, who sits near the bathroom, thinks I have a cocaine habit or something. I don’t, boss lady. I’m on a cleanse, dammit. That begs the question, is cocaine allowed on the cleanse?

Also, I’m really hot. I’m usually always cold. Coincidence?

After work, I went to a work event. There were appetizers and free drinks. Alas, I had water while I watched everyone else indulge. For dinner, I made a huge pot of whole wheat pasta with a sauce that consisted of no-salt organic canned tomatoes, red and green peppers, spinach, onions, garlic and spices. It was good!

Day Four: A little better

Well, today I had a delicious breakfast of strawberries, bananas, and organic yogurt. It’s actually so good, I’d eat it normally. I’m not irritable like yesterday and the headache has all but faded, but I’m still unable to concentrate. I’m not having hot flashes anymore, thank God. Now I know what my mom is talking about.

For lunch I had some organic soup, an organic bagel (whole wheat) and some flatbread with almond butter. I tried some gross juice that I’m allowed to drink, but it was so gross that I went back to the water. For some reason, after lunch, I felt really heavy, bloated, and sluggish.

I don’t have any motivation to go to the gym. I feel lackadaisical. I had an organic corn-fed chicken breast for dinner, which I can season with herbs. I went on a date. I ordered… green tea. My date ordered nachos. *cough* Bastard. *cough*

Day Five: Not so bad, unless you count the chocolate-tasting contest

I work next to our foodtv.com blogger, Catherine Jheon. Today she’s having a chocolate-tasting party directly in front of my desk. *cough* Hate her *cough*. Breakfast is actually good, with my strawberry-and-banana mix happening. For lunch, I had the same old pasta I made. It’s still tasty and I’m not really having cravings anymore.

After work, I went to a film screening where I ordered… green tea. Yum. After the films, everyone wanted to go drinking at a nearby bar, but the roomie and I just walked home and snacked on some fruit. Not drinking interferes with my social life.

Check out Part Two of Nicolle's Guinea Pig

Working Out with the Stars

Robotic Hottie — Thu, 30 Aug 2007 16:57:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #13: High-End Gym

The Problem:

I’m wondering if my low-end stripper-laden gym leaves something to be desired.

Hypothesis:

If I go to the gym that Russell Crowe and other celebs use while they’re in Toronto, I can gauge if it’s worth shelling out the extra bucks it takes to get into one of Canada’s most reputable gyms – The Yorkville Club.

Variables:

I currently go to one of the cheapest gyms in Toronto. That means that almost anything will impress me. At my regular gym, I have a routine that I stick to religiously, which has been working so-so for me.

Procedure:

I arrive at The Yorkville Club, where owner and founder, Mark Kehr, meets me and gives me the tour. The gym features flattering lighting, a spa-inspired change room, a full-serve snack counter (including some meals, which you can order before your workout so it’s ready for you when you’re leaving), and – the pièce de résistance – a concierge who performs your errands for you at no extra charge while you work out. Membership is capped so that you never have to wait for a machine and won’t be bothered by other pesky patrons while you sweat it up.

The facilities at the gym are top notch and each cardio machine is equipped with a private flat screen TV so you won’t be bored while you work out. There’s a hot yoga studio, soundproof boxing studios, yoga studios, and a lobby area with Barcelona chairs and Jackson Pollockesque art in case you want to recline in style at the gym. Other little perks: a business centre, valet parking and highly qualified personal trainers for hire.

I used the gym for a day and it was much more comfortable than my low-end version. I suppose the biggest difference between this gym and my gym is that it’s somewhere I’d like to go because the atmosphere is a lot more comfortable than at my current gym. The showers are private, which is a huge plus for me, and overall, it’s a better day-to-day experience than a lower-end gym.

Analysis:

A lot of things will factor into your choice of fitness club, and finances are probably at the top of your list. Depending on your commitment to daily fitness and whether or not comfort will factor into your choice of gym, you might want to consider upgrading your gym if you think it will help you visit more often. If I could afford to join the well-off patrons at The Yorkville Club, I’d do it in a moment. Joining a gym of that callibre would definitely motivate me to visit the gym daily. I might even go there to chill, it’s so nice.

Conclusion:

Most good gyms have promotions where you can try the gym for a limited amount of time. Before choosing a gym, make sure to work out there for a week or so to see if you like it there enough to visit it at least three times a week. There’s no point joining a gym you hate. At The Yorkville Club, which costs about $70 biweekly after your $349 enrollment fee, you’d have to be very honest with yourself about whether or not you’d actually go. But, a higher fee might actually motivate you to work out.

Data:

The Yorkville Club
http://www.theyorkvilleclub.com/
416-961-8400
87 Avenue Road
Toronto

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

Situation Cuticle

Scotch Mommy — Tue, 31 Jul 2007 17:28:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #12: Our First Pedicure

The Problem:

He Says:
My loving wife refused to touch my feet due to heavy callus buildup and an overall buildup of rough and cracked skin. She suggested I get a pedicure.

She says:
Self-consciousness about my ugly toes (see photo for clarification) has led to a severe case of pedicure-phobia.

Hypothesis:

He Says:
Maybe, just maybe, in the 21st century, the only real way to be a manly man and earn a foot rub from your honey is to truck on down to the pedicure shop and get the old dogs whipped into some kind of shape.

She says:
If the aesthetician doesn’t recoil in horror at the site of my feet, perhaps I can be cured of my phobia and use my therapy-fund money towards mani-pedi dates with my girlfriends.

Variables:

He Says:
Growing up as a farm boy, the idea of having your nails buffed, cuticles trimmed, heels shaved, and generally having the sweet bejeezus pampered out of my paws was entirely foreign. That said, I now live in the city and am married to a chic urban woman who is far prettier than me. She has, for a long period of time, refused to touch my feet. Sometimes when my scabrous hooves brush against her pristine leg in bed she awakens, terrified. As her loving husband, I knew it was time to do the right thing and remove at least some of the leathery build-up of the last 32 years.

She says:
I’m tired of hiding my shameful secret within closed-toed shoes. It’s time to embrace the feet (in all their quirky glory) and finally break out some stylin’ strappy sandals.

Procedure:

He Says:
Upon arrival at the swanky-yet-chic Ten Spot on Toronto’s trendy Queen Street West, I was given a cold beer. I was, at that point, the only man in the shop, but I knew why I was there so I peeled off my white tube socks and worn-down trainers and prepared to follow the instructions of Lindsay, the fetching young woman who was to deal with my shameful feet.

She took one look at my cracked heals, overgrown cuticles, and gnarly toe jam and didn’t bat at eye. I knew I was in good hands. She commenced by having me soak my feet in some gently soothing waters. She then buffed the crooked edges off of my nails, one foot at a time. Where there were large cracks and nicks she took extra care. She put some softening cream on the finished foot and had me soak it in the water while she worked on the other one. She trimmed off the gigantic cuticles with some scissors. More soaking followed; this step demanded repetition given the chitinous texture of my heels.

While she filed away the outrageous callus on my right big toe, I stared in disbelief at the blizzard of flakes. As gross as this is, it was a very satisfying feeling. But it wasn’t half as satisfying as when she started filing the bottom of my feet. I let out a girlish giggle and couldn’t refrain from squirming throughout this portion of the session; it felt too good to sit still.

Things went to a new level of sensory stimulation when Lindsay pulled out a jar of this crunchy organic business and rubbed it all over my feet. It felt great. I am not sure if this is the correct term, but it felt as if my skin was in some way being “exfoliated.” Then I stuck my feet back in the water after this last nerve tingling delight and was overcome with a sense of self-satisfied wellness.

She Says:
I knew that everything was going to be just fine when, upon entering the place, we were offered beer or wine. (Cold brewski + foot soak + massage = heaven.) The lovely (and brave) Ashley took my feet in hand with nary a shudder or groan of disgust—not even a raised eyebrow.

After a relaxing soak in warm, soapy water, she expertly filed my nails into perfect little half-moons and then brought out the big guns: the dreaded foot file. However, any tension I may have felt was quickly erased by the distraction of Sandy’s girly squeals of glee beside me (“It tickles!!”). I leaned against the soft back cushions and daydreamed happily of wedges and peep-toe heels. As Ashley scrubbed away at my heels, the self-loathing I had once harboured for my 10 lil’ piggies disappeared along with the rough calluses.

Next up: paradise in a bottle. My feet and legs were delightfully scrubbed with Cake Beauty’s Citrus Squeeze (a yummy exfoliation product bound for my toiletry drawer), resulting in skin so smooth I couldn’t stop touching my feet (I stopped after Sandy shot me a strange look). After a so-good-I-never-want-this-to-end foot/calf massage, Ashley settled down to paint my newly cute toes a bright, fire-engine red. Hawt. End result: feet that I actually want to show off!

Analysis:

He Says:
Getting a pedicure was not only pleasurable, but it also seems to have accomplished my dual goals of foot maintenance and making myself more appealing to my wife. It isn’t cheap, but considering it’s an hour of having someone pay an outrageous amount of attention to your feet, that is understandable. I don’t think it’s something that I am going to make a habit of, but who knows? In a year or two after my feet have rebuilt their yellowish fortifications against the world, perhaps I will return to have them re-groomed.

She Says:
The whole experience was so relaxing and enjoyable that it nearly made me want to strive to become a lady who lunches—or at least one who takes better care of her extremities. And my foot shame? Whatever. There are worse things in life than having funny-looking toes.

Conclusion:

He Says:
If you have the money and are the least bit self-conscious of your feet, this is worth it. If your wife, girlfriend, partner, or whoever is grossed out by your feet, it’s doubly worth it. Making this kind of effort to take care of yourself shows that you care enough about your relationship to go the extra mile to be attractive. Plus, it feels pretty nice.

She Says:
I was so completely comfortable and relaxed the whole time that I would absolutely do it again. The fancy feet are here to stay.

Written by: Sandy Hunter and Christine Geddes

Some Like It Hot

Scotch Mommy — Tue, 24 Jul 2007 19:32:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #11: Hot Yoga

The Problem:

I need to add “limber” to my list of awesome skills.

Hypothesis:

If I go to hot yoga class, I will sweat with valour and be able to stretch my feet behind my head.

Variables:

I’ve done yoga before, so I remember a thing or two. Not to mention I love a good schvitz now and then. Hot yoga, or Bikram yoga, developed by Bikram Choudhury, is practised in a room that’s 45 degrees Celsius with 50 percent humidity. There are 26 postures and two modes of breathing. The classes are normally 90 minutes long, but I opt for a 60-minute flow class in fear of passing out. I’ve heard several tales of hot yoga incidents: passing out, throwing up, slipping on sweat and hitting one’s head (okay, I made that last one up). My instructor, Tracey at Moksha Yoga Downtown, assures me that no one will throw up on me and I won’t pass out. She does instruct, however, that if I feel lightheaded or can’t do a posture, to sit down and wait for a minute or two.

Before you go to a class, remember you’ll need: a bottle of water, two towels (one to lay on your mat and one for after the class), a mat, and you might even want to bring another little towel to wipe sweat off your face during the class. Believe me, you don’t want to use the one you’ve been sweating one for the whole class.

Procedure:

The class begins and the first thing I notice is some middle-aged men who’ve taken off their shirts. They’re not middle-aged men like my dad, either. Everyone in the class is pretty young, but no one’s university-aged, either. Most people are wearing as little clothing as possible and I’m glad that I wore short pants and a sweat-wicking top. To start, everyone lays on their respective mats until Tracey comes in. The room is hot, but not as hot as I’d expected. It’s definitely sauna-like, though.

The postures aren’t as difficult as I’d imagined. Since I had a yoga background, I recognized some of the poses. As the class went on, I sweat more, which was actually a little distracting. Everyone’s bodies were shiny with sweat and most people began dripping halfway through the class. Things even got slippery.

Analysis:

Whoa, Nelly. Hot yoga can be tough. If it’s your first time, remember to take it easy. Tracey reminded us that the most important part of the class was breathing, not how deep you can go into a posture. The next day, my “core” hurt—my sides (the internal and external oblique abdominals) and my abs. My legs and arms were also slightly sore. It was definitely a great workout for all yogis, beginners and beyond.

Conclusion:

Give hot yoga a whirl. It’s an interesting experience, whether or not you decide to continue. It’s quite cathartic, what with all that sweating and breathing. Classes can run you about $16 each, and if you forget your towels or water, you can rent and buy your stuff at most studios.

Data:

Schvitz with the best of ‘em:

Halifax:

Breathing Space Yoga Studio

Montreal:

Bikram Yoga Montreal

Ottawa:

Core-Elation Yoga Studio

Toronto:

Moksha Yoga (Downtown)

Winnipeg:

Hot Yoga Winnipeg

Calgary:

Bodhi Tree Yoga Centre

Edmonton:

Bikram Yoga Edmonton

Vancouver:

West Coast Hot Yoga

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

Kayak It Like It’s Hot

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 09 Jul 2007 13:00:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #10: Kayaking

The Problem:

Give me a paddle and point me to the water, but I don’t know what to do.

Hypothesis:

If I take a kayaking lesson, I am closer to being able to MacGyver my way out of any situation. Such as a kayaking situation.

Variables:

I can totally canoe with the best of them. Well, if you count the one time I canoed at Girl Guide camp. I’m pretty sure this is going to be a lot of the same. But better because the paddle is two-sided, so you get more paddle for your action. Kayaking originated in native tribes in North America, Asia, and Greenland about 4,000 years ago, so there’s gotta be something to it. The kayaking I’m doing is actually on Grand Turk Island in the Turks and Caicos Islands while on vacation on the ms Zuiderdam, a Holland American Line ship. Should be interesting, to say the least. The ship is fun, so I assume the kayaking will follow suit.

Procedure:

My brother Ryan and I take a rickety old bus to a remote river on the island. The water is still and calm but Ryan finds a way to convince me that kayaking is potentially deadly if the kayak topples and I’m stuck in the water. Luckily, our guide reassures me that no one has ever toppled in one of his kayaks. Since there’s a group of us, most ranging in their 20s to 40s (no seniors on this trip), our guide (who might be the most laid-back guy I’ve ever met) tells us to follow the leader.

We paddle along the river. My brother, who has kayaking experience, sits in the back of the kayak to steer. We vary in speed, but fare well as we find a method to sync our paddle strokes. The method is mostly me screaming, “Left! Right!” It seems to work. Kayaking is great because you can go at your own pace. If you really want to push it and get your heart rate going, it’s very easy to paddle quicker. If you’ve just injured yourself and you need to take it easy, sit in the front and let your partner know you can’t go as hard as you’d like to. One of our fellow kayakers was able to paddle on her own, which is good to know. As long as you’re not trying to catch up with strong paddlers who have two to a kayak, you’re fine by yourself.

Analysis:

Kayaking was definitely easier than I thought. Though, I was on the Caribbean tour, so it might be more difficult if you’re with some hardcore paddlers. If you join a beginner session in Canada, it shouldn’t be too difficult. My triceps and biceps hurt the next day and my back hurt a little bit from sitting incorrectly in the kayak. Make sure you’re positioned correctly so that you don’t hurt yourself.

Conclusion:

I totally recommend that you take a kayak out for a paddle. It’s a great sport for someone just starting out because you can determine your own pace. It’s also fun and peaceful if you’re out on the lake alone. For something a little more extreme, try surf kayaking.

Data:

If you’re up for a kayaking trip, hook it up here.

Ontario:

Kayaking Algonquin: http://www.outforadventure.com/kayak_Algonquin.htm

Ottawa Kayak School: http://www.ottawakayak.com/

British Columbia:

Kayaking Day Trips: http://www.outforadventure.com/kayaking-day-trips.htm

Nova Scotia:

North River Kayak Tours: http://www.northriverkayak.com/

Yukon Territories:

Kayak Yukon: http://www.kayak.yk.ca/

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

En Garde!

Sporty Vixen — Mon, 04 Jun 2007 13:02:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #9 : Fencing

The problem:

I lose every duel I get myself into.

Hypothesis:

If I go to fencing class, I will put Robin Hood to shame.

Variables:

I thought fencing would be very cool. Most of what I knew about it came from my ownership of The Princess Bride DVD. I was all like, “My name is Nicolle Weeks. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” Oh, I was ready all right. Who knew that it was an art and a science? Well, fencers and Wikipedia. But not me.

Procedure:

En garde! My friend Alex sneaks me into his old fencing class. I didn’t know this beforehand; I thought he’d cleared my presence with all the fencing intelligentsia. Sadly this meant that I was not allowed to battle in the fencing matches. But I wanted to battle!

I’m allowed to do the first part of the class (without the swords, which are called the foil, épée and sabre), the footwork. Footwork involves standing in a pose with your right leg in front of you and your left leg behind you (the en garde position). Your right arm is raised as if you have a weapon and you practice moving backwards, forwards and lunging. This takes about 25 minutes of the class and the rest is used for technique and coaching.

Touché! Alex takes me away from the class. If I wanted to fence for real, I’d have to join some kind of fencing coalition and pay dues and insurance money and sign some kind of contract. It sounds very official. Fencing is pretty official beyond that, too. The movements are supposed to very isolated and small. There’s a lot of wrist action going on. And there is judging and stuff.

I’m allowed to put on the fencing outfit, which is sort of reminiscent of a straight jacket. It’s white, it zips up from the back, and it goes between my legs. The pants, which I don’t have to wear, look sort of like a baseball uniform. I get to hold the foil (apparently, the easiest weapon to fence with) and wave it around a bit.

Analysis:

Fencing is less a fitness regime, more of a sport. There’s so much technique and calculation (one of the people in the class tells me it’s “like physical chess”) that it’s not something you can just try. You’re either in or out. Although you will get a good workout, I have to say that only my right butt cheek and leg hurt the next day, so the workout was disproportionate. I didn’t really get my heart rate going and though it would be good for toning and conditioning, you’d have to be an ambidextrous fencer to get both sides of the body the proper workout.

Conclusion:

Before committing to fencing (not only do you have to buy a bulk of classes up front and you’ll probably have to invest in some equipment), make sure you’re willing to make a real commitment. The classes aren’t drop-in, they’re sequential, so you shouldn’t miss any. You’re not only working out, you’re learning technique and form. If you’re just looking for some good cardio, fencing isn’t for you.

Data:

Toronto:

Metro Blades Fencing Club
info@metroblades.ca
http://metroblades.ca/

For other reputable fencing clubs across Canada, visit the Metro Blades website.

http://metroblades.ca/links-associations.html

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

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Kick It at Kickboxing

Scotch Mommy — Mon, 07 May 2007 13:10:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #7: Muay Thai Kickboxing

The Problem:

I’m always losing bar fights.

Hypothesis:

If I learn to box, I’ll be hotter than Michelle Rodriguez in Girlfight. And perhaps I’ll be able to whoop people’s bums.

Variables:

I’m a wussy. I’m used to fitness classes filled with other girls who dab their brows as soon as they break a sweat. I’m used to, like, dance class. Boxing is very masculine. There are special gloves involved.

Procedure:

Muay Thai is as common in Thailand as hockey is here in Canada. In fact, James Hines, my class instructor, tells me that it’s Thailand’s national sport.

First of all, I was afraid of going to the gym because James sent an email riddled with questions and he might have implied something about whipping me into shape. He offered to do a pre-class “tune up” (personal training sesh) and I was all aflutter about what might happen. The tune up was cool, we worked on some punches and kicks (my previous karate training helped a bit) and we were off to the races. Or the ring. Not that there was an actual ring.

The class, populated mostly by men (and, uh, if you didn’t know, boxers are hot, so there’s a bonus), was tough. And I don’t mean tough like my heart rate went way up and I was sweaty and my body hurt after. I mean, we did circuits of punching a thingy on the wall, skipping (it’s harder than when you were 10, believe me), crunches, push-ups (on our knuckles), squats, shadow-boxing, and working with the punching bag. We did three minutes of each.

At about 45 minutes, I felt so incredibly exhausted and tired that I thought I was going to throw up. I had to get James to take me outside and get me a Gatorade while I sat out for the rest of the class. I felt bad, but every time I thought about going back to the class, my muscles flinched with pain. Afterwards, he told me I was a hero for pushing my personal limits and doing as much as I did, which is reminiscent of when I was eight and I earned “Participant” ribbons for finishing last at track and field.

Analysis:

Embarrassing as it was to finish the class early, I was glad to be challenged. I liked the macho feeling I got from sweating it out with real boxers and I was never, ever bored. The parts of my body that hurt the most were… all of them. I had to schedule a massage for the next day because I couldn’t walk properly.

Conclusion:

Go! Round up one or two of your friends so you’re all starting at the same time and get ready for an intense workout. You’ll be glad that you pushed yourself and you’ll feel an incredible amount of accomplishment. I hear that after two weeks, you’ll notice a huge difference. And, hey, any pent-up aggression you might be harbouring will disappear after this class. And don’t be a doofus like I was: take it easy the first time ‘round.

The class costs $59 for 4 weeks.

Data:

Montreal:

Montreal Martial Arts (514)-281-9928

Toronto:

Old School Muay Thai (416) 436-0226

Saskatoon:

Champion Fight Club 210 2nd Ave. North (306) 955-5425

Calgary:

Mike Miles National Kickboxing & Muay Thai 11th Ave. S.W. (403) 244-8424

Trail, British Columbia:

Pride Gym (250) 364-3031

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

Rock the climbing

Scotch Mommy — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 18:34:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #6: Rock Climbing

The problem:

My bye-bye arms.

Hypothesis:

If I go rock climbing, then I can be “extreme” and survive if I ever fall down the side of a mountain.

Variables:

Though I didn’t think it through before I went to the gym, I’m really afraid of heights. My instructor later told me that about 50 percent of climbers are afraid of heights.

Procedure:

The ages of people in the gym ranged from about eight years old to people in their fifties. Although climbing wasn’t easy, it was good to see that a variety of people could do it.

The beginner class had five people in it, including me. The entire first part of the class was dedicated to learning how to “tie in” (tying knots and putting on the harness) and me freaking out about climbing 35 feet into the air. The knots were pretty easy once we got the hang of it. Get it, “hang”? Never mind. The shoes they give you are really uncomfortable, sort of like point shoes in ballet where you put all your weight on one sharp point.

The second part of the class was dedicated to learning how to “belay,” which means holding the ropes for other climbers. You’re pretty much in charge of your climbing partner’s well-being so it’s pretty important. And boring.

Then, after I’d belayed my partner, it was time for me to go up. HOLY MOTHER OF LORD. I was terrified beyond belief. Don’t look down indeed! I got to the top and had to look down at my partner to tell her to let me down. My legs were jelly, my hands were sweaty, and my heart was palpitating. The sad part was looking across the wall and seeing a 12-year-old girl jumping around like nobody’s business. After a few climbs, my legs started to function a little better.

After the class was done, I had full use of the gym and was allowed to “boulder,” which means climbing around on a lower wall. Also, I climbed in the “cave,” which is a place where you can hang upside down.

Analysis:

My arms hurt like crazy for a few days. Though it’s a full-body workout, your arms and back will get the most exercise. Climbing is slightly cardiovascular, but more isometric since your arms are holding up your entire body weight lots of the time. If you do this enough, your arms and back will be toned. It’s more fun than weight-lifting, if you ask me.

Conclusion:

Give rock climbing a whirl. It was fun, a good workout, and if you like toned guys, you might spot a few on the wall. It’s a safe way to challenge your fear, so get your adrenaline going and try it out. This would also make a fun date.

The beginner class, which included equipment rental and as much climbing time as my little body could handle, costs $35 at The Climbing Academy in Toronto.

Data:

Get up and g-g-get down with some rock climbing in your city.

Toronto:
The Climbing Academy

Montreal:
Allez-Up

Calgary:
University of Calgary Outdoor Centre

Dartmouth:
Ground Zero Climbing Gym

Vancouver:
Cliffhanger Climbing Gym

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

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Let Your Chakras Feel the Heat

Scotch Mommy — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 21:16:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #4: Hot Stone and Reiki Massage

The problem:

My unbalanced chakra. (Chakra, according to Merriam-Webster, is “any of several points of physical or spiritual energy in the human body, according to yoga philosophy.”)

Hypothesis:

If I get a hot stone Reiki massage, I will be more relaxed and at ease with the world.

Variables:

After a recent break up and other stresses, I wanted to try a different kind of massage tailored to me that might relax, energize and invigorate me.

Procedure:

Before I went in, my massage therapist, Darlene Rose Silzer, explained that a hot stone Reiki massage helps to get rid of stress, back pain, anxiety and helps to balance your energy. Every massage is different and Darlene uses hot stones along with her hands to help extract negative energy from your body. A massage could take up to an hour and a half, depending on a person’s energy and chakras.

Analysis:

Darlene started by having me sit up while she placed rocks on the table. I lay on top of the (hot) stones and then she placed stones all over my (towel covered) front and on my forehead. The stones were warm and not at all uncomfortable, as I thought they might be. Darlene placed her hands on different parts of my body and concluded that the areas that needed the most attention were my root chakra and my spleen.

Now I’m not one for new-age-y stuff, but I have to say, I felt waves of energy (or whatever you want to call it) go through me towards Darlene, especially when her hands were on my arms. It‘s a strange feeling and very difficult to explain, but suffice it to say, it was a tad creepy. I let myself get into it and my mind fell into a meditative state.

Although Darlene says that most people have a very positive reaction or a neutral one, the experience I had during the massage was actually a little bit traumatic at times. As I said, I’m not really into this stuff, but it was a bit uncomfortable when the “negative energy” was being “detracted.” But there was definitely a relaxing element and I really liked the feeling of being in an “altered state.”

For the second part of the massage, Darlene had me lie on my front and she placed the stones on my back, feet and hands. She did the same Reiki stuff again and I felt the energy waves again.

Conclusion:

If you’re looking for a massage where they poke and prod and get out your knots and tension, this is not the treatment for you. This is more emotionally therapeutic than it is physically. I felt very relaxed and rejuvenated afterwards, but my knots were still in tact.

Darlene, who had no idea about my break up or stress, told me that she felt some grief and frustration from me. She said she cried twice during the massage from the negative energy coming from me! Talk about someone getting into her work. She does mention that some people feel so emotional during a Reiki massage that they cry. Darlene warns that some don’t feel much at all and ask her, “Did I just pay you to take a nap?” So, if you’re not into meditating or getting in touch with your chakra, save your dollars for another kind of massage.

I was a little concerned that all my negative energy was going to make Darlene sad, but she assured me that she dissipates the energy into the universe after she channels it from me. Phew! A massage like this could run you $115 at The Body Clinic in Toronto for 90 minutes.

Data:

Toronto:
The Body Clinic
11 Yorkville Avenue
Suite 201
416-324-8999
The Body Clinic

For the best Reiki practitioner in your area, ask your regular massage therapist for a recommendation.

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

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Be a Booty Girl

Scotch Mommy — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 20:35:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #1: Hip-Hop Dance Class

The problem:

My flabby butt.

Hypothesis:

If I go to hip-hop class, then I can booty shake with the best of them while maintaining a “slammin” body (see Save the Last Dance for proper usage of the word “slammin”).

Variables:

I didn’t know what to expect from a hip-hop class, mostly because I’m the pastiest thing around since a snowy day in Wisconsin. But I groove to the top forty hits with the rest of them (or in my living room), so I figured, why not?

Procedure:

Our instructor, Natalli Reznik, is a petite outgoing 29-year-old Israeli-born hottie, complete with cute gold LAMB sneakers and hooded sweatshirt. The beginner’s class features routines to such top forty hits as Promiscuous and Ring the Alarm. The class beings with some stretching and movement to get the faux-gansta juices flowing. The instructor tortures us with ab work mid-class so we can’t skip out after the dance portion. Slave driver! The ab portion almost kills me, but luckily Natalli turns the music (from the Flashdance soundtrack) up really loud so we can “scream at the top of our lungs” if need be. And need be. In all fairness, the patrons of the class are jonesing for Natalli’s amazing body, which she achieves by doing this sort of workout everyday.

Analysis:

Gyrating is harder than it looks! I sweat a lot, had a lot of fun, laughed at myself and most importantly, felt sexier than a booty girl in a Snoop Dogg video while getting the toughest workout I’ve had in ages. It’s a lot more fun than the treadmill and if you’ve got a good group, you can really work it. Judging from the pains I experienced the week after the class, we worked the abs and legs the most. Beware the professional dancers who frequent beginners’ classes to make themselves feel better about their failed dance careers.

Conclusion:

If you don’t enjoy hip-hop or you’re not willing to make a fool of yourself in front of a few other ladies, perhaps a step class would be better for you. I’d recommend the class, though. Grab a few of your good-natured friends who are down with the beat and get moving.

Data:
Itching to hip to the hop in your area? Here are some places that offer hip hop classes across Canada.

Toronto:

Dance Kraze Productions

Montreal:

Hip Action

Calgary:

City of Calgary Dance Programs

Halifax:

DanceXPress Dance Center

Vancouver and surrounding areas:

Bailey Dance Co. Ltd.

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

Feel Sexy and Work Yo' Belly

Scotch Mommy — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 20:13:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #2: Bellydance Class

The problem:

My un-Shakira-like dance floor shenanigans.

Hypothesis:

If I go to bellydance class, then I can learn to writhe and jiggle in a sexy manner while working several muscle groups.

Variables:

I figured bellydancing would be a piece of cake. Beyonce does a bellydance-type-thing in her Baby Boy video and I’ve seen bellydance performances. What’s so hard about shaking your hips around and being sultry? I’m sultry, like, all the time.

According to Yasmina Ramzy, the founder of Arabesque Academy, bellydancing is an ancient art form that was persecuted and repressed for the last 2000 years. She calls it “a shameless display of femininity.”

Procedure:

The dance studio fills with Arab music and our instructor, Emese (we can call her “Em”) speaks just loud enough to hear her over the music. The class is filled with women of all ages and sizes, which is nice, and we all wear hip scarves with little metal disks sewn into them that jingle as we shimmy. We do some stretching and ab work, then get to the dancing. The ladies all giggle as we try to move our necks without moving our hips and vice versa. We do several hand, hip, head, stomach and chest movements.

Analysis:

Whoever thought bellydancing was easy (oh, right, that would be me) should try a class. There was hardly any cardio, but the whole class was a series of muscle work and movements. “The point is to isolate muscles and work all the muscles you never knew you had,” Em tells me. The next day, my legs (quadriceps) and arms (triceps and biceps) hurt the most.

Conclusion:

Definitely try a class before deciding it’s not for you. The introductory class was suitable for people of all levels and it was quite interesting to see how to isolate and control different parts of your body. Try to wear tight clothing as it’s easier to see how your body moves in the mirror. Classes cost $11–$16.

Data:

The hips don’t lie, so try the ancient art at these places (recommended by Melody Bogin from the Arabesque Academy):

Toronto:

Arabesque Academy
1 Gloucester Street, Suite #107
416-920-5593
www.arabesquedance.ca

Stratford, Ontario:

Sahar and The Jewels of the Nile
291 Lorne Ave. E
519-273-2610
http://www.stratford.bellydance.tripod.com/

Montreal:

Hadia at Studio Metronome
4557 St. Laurent at Mont Royal, 3rd Floor
514-969-2220
www.hadia.com

Edmonton:

Dance Aurora
Sherbrooke School at 12245 131 St
780-238-5099
www.danceaurora.com

Vancouver:

Venus Bellydance Instruction
Various locations
www.venusbellydance.com for contact information and schedules

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

Bend It Like Beckham with Pilates

Scotch Mommy — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 18:47:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #5: Pilates

The problem:

Where to begin? Well, how about with my un-toned muscles and inability to touch my toes without bending my knees.

Hypothesis:

If I go to Pilates class, I will be relaxed, long, lean and will be able to wear yoga pants without a baggy t-shirt over top.

Variables:

All I knew about Pilates was that it is like yoga but harder with more bobbing up and down. I had no injuries or fears of Pilates (unlike my stint with rock climbing) and I already owned yoga pants (bonus!).

Procedure:

Amy Brown of Pilates for Life is by far the nicest instructor I’ve had in all my fitness classes. She remembers everyone’s name in the class and the only times I don’t like her is when she comes by to correct my stance and stretches my hamstrings a lot so that my bum hurts. The class is set to relaxing music, which I suppose it meant to distract us from the pain.

The class begins with a nice older lady telling me to grab a little ball, a blue oversized rubber band, a mat and a giant Styrofoam tube thingy. Amy gets us stretching right away. The whole class involves us stretching and bobbing our limbs around and for some reason, this hurts. It’s quite the workout, though there is no sweating. Natalie, who’s joined me for the class groans at all the parts that hurt the most for everyone (but they’re too afraid to groan). The nice older lady says she’s glad someone else hurts too.

We do a bunch of things, including “scissors,” a deceptively simple exercise where you flail your legs about a little off the ground, and excruciatingly slow push ups and crunches.

Analysis:

Pilates is hard and it hurts during class, but it doesn’t hurt a lot afterwards, which is a welcome change from other classes. I mean, my muscles hurt the day after, but not the aching kind of hurt that comes along with a lot of other activities. The things that hurt the most the next day are my hamstrings and inexplicably, my sides. Over time, if you do Pilates enough, you’ll feel long and leaner and your posture will improve. It’s also pretty relaxing once you get past the hurting.

Conclusion:

I really liked this class, if only for the fact that there’s very little sweating involved, so you can do it on your lunch break and not stink for the rest of the day if you don’t shower. It’s a good addition to your workout plan if you currently just do cardio. It’s strength training, so it’s like lifting weights but trendier. If you don’t believe me, just ask Patrick Swayze (!) and the San Francisco 49ers and Kate Winslet since they all do Pilates too. Classes can cost anywhere from about $14–$20.

Data:

Montreal:
Studio Praxis
376 Victoria Avenue
Suite 185 (ground floor)
514-486-9949
www.studiopraxis.com

Toronto:
Pilates for Life
27 Yorkville Ave, Suite 204
416-922-0387
www.pilatesforlife.ca

Edmonton:
Sublime Body
4109 - 106 Street
780-450-9111
www.sublimebody.org

Calgary:
Calgary Pilates Centre
2310 2nd Street SW Ground Floor,
Grey Nuns Building Holy Cross Centre
403-245-5885
www.calgarypilates.com

Vancouver:
Pilates Unlimited
Coal Harbour
1706 Alberni St
604-875-0404
www.pilates.ca

Written by: Nicolle Weeks

Go Sledding, Girl

Scotch Mommy — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 18:24:00 GMT

Guinea Pig Experiment #3 Dog Sledding

The Problem:

My inability to pull myself away from making sock puppets and watching movies on snowy weekends in the city.

Hypothesis:
If I go dog sledding, I will feel more in touch with our lovely Canadian winters and I will have a better story to tell at the next social function (anything is better than “I made a sock puppet Saturday night”).

Variables:
I’m a little concerned that I won’t be warm enough. I hear “cotton kills,” which means I should go out and buy some warm things that look ugly but apparently won’t kill me.

To be honest, I’m also worried about the “call of nature.” Do you think they have a Little Girl’s Room in the bush? I’m built from hardy stock but wind-chill and snow may make me reconsider.

Finally, it’s unclear to me how much work is really involved here. I think I’m being naïve thinking that I won’t have to do much running or pushing or mushing, but I suspect if it was really that easy everyone would do it.

Procedure:
Get ye to the North. Get ye layered.

It’s pretty daunting to see a very big truck pulling an even bigger trailer full of Huskies that are howling to get out and run. Thankfully, once you get used to the cacophony of dog howls you’ll soon realize you’re in for a great time.

Each sled takes a team of two, which is you and a buddy (not you and someone who knows what they’re doing). A group of six sleds (driver and passenger) get a short lesson on how to drive the dog team. Let there be no mistake: these dogs know exactly where they’re going and your job is mostly just to slow them down. At the end of the lesson, you’re given a sled, an introduction to your dogs, and an unexpected “Okay, go!”

We chose a half-day ride, which is about 12 kilometres and includes lunch. Throughout our trek, we cruised between a quick walking pace and a “don’t lose control or you’ll never catch it again” speed. There are total Zen moments, when you get to hear the snow crunching under the sled and you feel the crisp winter breeze on your cheek. There are also heart-in-mouth moments, when you have to control the team while going downhill and it takes all your strength to brake and not be the only one to lose control and fall over. The highlight for me, though, was our lunch break. Not because we had stopped (a welcome respite) but because now I had a chance to hang out with my dog team. You feed them a cookie, rub their coats, get some doggie kisses, and take pictures.

As for the call of nature: don’t drink coffee in the morning, do use an outhouse if it’s available at the beginning, and try to ignore what your body is saying when you’re out on the run. Opportunities to sneak off into the bushes are few and far between.

Analysis:
There was a lot of unexpected running, pushing, and pulling. Between helping the dogs get uphill, pulling on the sled to slow down during daunting downhill runs, and pushing the sled through the odd tricky patch, I was pretty beat at the end of half a day. Unless you’re only a passenger, this is not a leisurely pooch-powered jaunt through a park. Get ready to sweat.

Layer appropriately, too. Nothing is worse than working really hard, sweating, and then sitting in the passenger position for the next 20 minutes letting all that sweat cool on you.

Find a buddy who is light and fit. As romantic as it might sound to dog sled with your healthy boy, pushing him up a hill will drive you to the brink of a break up. Also, pick a friend that won’t cough up a lung after five minutes. Being the passenger gives you the chance to take pictures, enjoy the ride, and get a well-deserved breather.

And, finally, while not mentioned earlier, the guides on our trip were exceptionally handsome and manly. There is absolutely nothing hotter than seeing a guy assertively but kindly handle a rowdy Husky. Handsome, unkempt, hardy, and dog-loving men of the north are a breed all their own but one I could get used to having around.

Conclusion:
Get some friends together, find a winter cottage (so you can drink some rum while you recover), and make a weekend out of it. It really does put you in touch with a great Canadian winter. It’s also a fantastic workout. Besides, what’s a girl to do with yet another sock puppet?

Data:

Ontario
Winterdance Dog Sled Tours
Haliburton, Ontario
(705) 457-5281
http://www.winterdance.com/

Alberta
Snowy Owl Tours
Canmore, Alberta
1-888-311-MUSH
http://www.snowyowltours.com/

British Columbia
Alaskan Husky Adventures
Clearwater, British Columbia
1-866-587-0037
http://www.dogsleddingadventures.com/

Written by: Natalie Gooding

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