Why Fifty Is Great

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So far, I have really enjoyed being fifty years old. It isn’t nearly as alarming or horrific as I had made it out to be. In keeping with the slogan which was on my most recent birthday cake, I truly feel like “50 IS THE NEW 20” and am thrilled that my physical appearance has also kept up with my spirit, mind, and intentions.

After spending a half-century on the planet, I no longer have the patience to deal with people who can’t honor their word. My tolerance has completely dissolved, and I think nothing of tossing flaky people to the curb. I guess the old adage, “with age comes wisdom” has a lot of truth to it. My gut instinct has proven consistently to be a foolproof guardian, so I no longer try to fight it. I trust it completely.

I cannot and will not wait for things to happen. I need to generate my own momentum and know that I can only truly depend on myself. Challenges will continue to hit me, but I feel stronger than ever about my ability to handle anything that comes my way. I also know that situations will always find their own resolution eventually. I also trust the process by which situations must unfold, and I also put tremendous faith in the universe. I maintain a connection with the universe by meditating daily and by keeping energy flowing through me.

Fat-Bottomed Girls

If I see one more fat-assed female wagging her goodies all over social media and claiming to be a “fit chick”, I swear I will scream. It’s one thing to have a sumptuous, full set of glutes which either Mother Nature was kind enough to dole out or which a consistent glute training routine created. It’s another thing entirely to have a wide, chunky, FAT derriere and pretend that such a poor display of physical fitness can pass off as an awe-inspiring example of hard work and dedication.

Basically, fat-bottomed girls are a dime a dozen these days. I say this boldly because I have seen far too many Instagram accounts which feature women who are amply endowed in the posterior, yet not through hard work and determination, and who think that there is some value in collecting followers simply on the basis of their smutty, slutty images. As was suggested in the Queen song “Fat Bottomed Girls” from 1978, girls who would ordinarily fail to catch the eye of a man who wanted a quality mate would do in a pinch when it came to casual sex. The song celebrates groupies who would never have a chance at being around musical superstars unless they agreed to engage in sexual activities for a night or two.

We now live in an age in which a woman like Kim Kardashian (yes, I am picking on her) is able to attain CELEBRITY STATUS on the basis of questionable criteria:

1. She has a huge derriere, and it isn’t shapely. Well, I guess chunky is a shape.
2. She has a certain amount of sex appeal and isn’t shy about disrobing.
3. She’s rolling in money so she can essentially buy her way to the top.

This begs the question, what is her talent? I challenge EVERY female who possesses surplus adipose tissue in her nether regions and who has a massive social media following simply on the basis of that part of her anatomy to tell me what talent she could possibly have. Because even if she DID have a hidden talent, no male follower on Instagram gives a rat’s ass whether she was a gifted violinist at one point or that she almost completed a masters program in criminal justice.

Just keeping it real.

A Funny Story My Favorite Aunty Shared

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Aunty Jean was my favorite aunt on my mother’s side of the family, and she made a tremendous impact on my life from a very early age. I remember meeting her for the first time during my first visit to Hawaii at the age of three. My uncle Tadashi had suddenly died of a heart attack, so my mom flew us both out to Hawaii to pay our last respects.

From the moment I set foot on Hawaiian soil, I was mesmerized by the islands and felt immediately at home. It certainly helped that I was able to meet my mother’s extensive family, and was greeted warmly by them. Jean was especially doting, and spent a great deal of time with me during our week on Oahu. She engaged me in arts and crafts, took me to the garden in the backyard to teach me about tropical fruits, and spoke pidgin English, a weird combination of Japanese, Hawaiian, and English which delighted my young mind.

Aunty also let me tag along and watch her cook. It was on one of those days during which I was watching her that I exhibited behavior which she thought was peculiar and brilliant, and went so far as to share the incident with other family members. The strange thing is that I barely remember the incident, but she remembered it vividly and loved retelling the story.

Aunty was standing in front of her kitchen sink, cleaning a whole fish. I stood next to her on my tiptoes, peering over the sink’s edge to watch her scale the fish.

Then I said, “Aunty, take one eyeball out.” She was alarmed.

“Why do you want one eyeball?”, she exclaimed.

“Please, Aunty, can I have an eyeball?”

She looked at me, impressed by my determination. “Well, okay, but I don’t know why you want it.” She proceeded to enucleate the fish on one side. “Okay, now what?” She looked down at me expectantly.

“Cut it in half.”

“What? Why do you want me to cut it in half?”

“Please Aunty.”

“Okay.” She shook her head in wonder and then cut the eyeball in half. “Now What?”

I held my hand out, palm up. “You can give it to me. Both pieces.”

Aunty obliged, placing two half-orbs onto my palm.

“Thank you Aunty.” I smiled at her, then looked down at the cross sections, studying their anatomy, bringing my hand to eye level to get a closer look. Once I had the anatomy lesson in my hand, I no longer paid attention to the full fish corpse which Aunty was cleaning.

My aunt found my fascination with a sliced fish eyeball completely odd, and was overcome with the strong sense that I would become either a scientist or a physician when I grew up. How right she was. During my entire grade school, high school and college years, I was in large part a science nerd, and when dissections, science experiments or surgeries on small animals were presented to me as class assignments, I dove in with feverish enthusiasm. At one point during college, I held a major in science illustration (I later switched to exercise science and obtained my Bachelor’s degree in that field). Eventually, I endured the rigors of medical school as well as three years of family practice residency, and I have enjoyed a career as a board certified physician for 13 years.

Come See Me At The SWAT Fuel Booth At The L.A. Fit Expo This Weekend!

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It is always an honor to represent SWAT Fuel! Come visit me at their booth this weekend at the Los Angeles Fit Expo. I’ll be there all day Saturday and Sunday, handing out samples of 9mm Plus P which is a fantastic thermogenic/energy formula/pre-workout formula. We will also have full size products for sale.

For any of you who are interested in signed 8×10’s, I will have those on hand as well. To see the selection I have available, please check out this link: http://www.cutcurves.com/stuff-to-buy.html

See you this weekend!

Fighting The Sirens

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Anyone who works in the entertainment field knows that audible distractions can really throw a wrench in the works while filming, recording, or taping. Interruptions on set prolong the time that talent and crew must be on set to get clean, usable takes. Otherwise benign sounds like a cough, jangling keys, or a barking dog will register on audio recordings, requiring the director and talent to pause until the noise has subsided, then re-shoot the take.

I have been on set for many different projects over the years and have been witness to various noise distractions. However, I had never experienced a nonstop cacophony of sirens and horns while on set until a couple of weeks ago, while I worked on a commercial set in New York City. Our first day on set was punctuated by a relatively steady stream of horns and sirens which added another ten minutes to our shoot day, since we had to pause for every single one, then launch into an additional take each time we had an interruption.

Day two was even worse, because evidently an “incident” in NYC right near the studio warranted a profusion of police vehicles, ambulances and fire engines at the site. In addition to all the sirens which blared for several hours, irate drivers on the road insisted on expressing their frustrations by leaning on their car horns. It’s no exaggeration for me to say that the steady interruptions emanating from the neighborhood added another twenty minutes to the shoot that day.

It’s difficult to maintain your cool when you land a perfect take, only to have a siren or horn blare right at the tail end of the take. Guess what that means? It means the take is rendered worthless because of the extraneous noise.

Everyone on set became increasingly irritated by the challenges to getting a perfect take. It became a bit of a joke as we kept rolling, launching into another take, only to have another siren assert itself and ruin that one as well. It was like a big F*&% YOU to all of us on set, and it kept occurring!

The clamor of alarms continued mercilessly, and our frustrations rose in direct proportion. Towards the end of the second shoot day, we switched to uttering expletives to more adequately express our increasing annoyance with the whole situation. The one positive note about all the interruptions and our reaction to them was that we all bonded even more during the project.

If you are planning to shoot a commercial, television project, film, music video or other entertainment related footage in New York City, and the studio you shoot in isn’t soundproof, you had better brace yourself for the probable onslaught of noise which will challenge the patience of everyone on set.

Nice On The Outside

Have you ever known someone who has a “nice on the outside” veneer which, when pulled away, reveals the ugliest, most opportunistic individual around? I’m sure you have had this type of personality darken your door, making you wonder what you ever did to warrant such a display of true colors.

I was recently completely blown away by an individual who chose to finally reveal his hideous interior. He did it through insulting me in the cruelest of ways, which at first stunned me, but then just made me chuckle in amazement. This pompous prick inferred that I needed him somehow, and his delusional thinking fueled him into puffing out his chest and proclaiming how important he was in his industry. The funny thing is, though he has had a moderate amount of success in a niche industry, he is basically a fish of moderate size in a rather small pond. I don’t swim in that pond anymore either.

It was truly bizarre to see what a complete narcissist this guy was, because for years I only saw the put-on, phony “playing nice” front he displayed at events. The conflict arose from the fact that he didn’t honor his own promises from three years ago, and because I called him out on it, he became ugly and rude.

I have news for him…I am swimming into a wide ocean and overtaking it.

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How To Avoid Competition Suit Mishaps

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If you are a female competitor in the NPC, IFBB, WBFF or other bodybuilding organization, you have probably had a suit mishap at some point. Whether it’s a light colored suit which becomes muddied and stained by competition spray tan, a connector which snaps (hopefully not while you were onstage!), a suit which doesn’t adequately cover your goodie parts and caused a wardrobe malfunction, or a suit which simply doesn’t fit correctly to your body, suit issues can be quite distressing.

I know competition suits are not cheap, and I also know the frustration which comes from having issues with suits. I have personally experienced a snapped connector (it occurred backstage about 45 minutes before I hit the national stage), and a suit which was too big. For this reason, I developed certain habits which served as insurance that I would not run into any unresolvable problems on show day.

Darker, yet vibrant colors are a good way to ensure that you won’t have to deal with excessive suit staining. White suits are notorious for picking up spray tan and are next to impossible to remove. Wardrobe malfunctions can be remedied by packing an emergency kit which includes safety pins, needle and thread so you can perform last-minute fixes. Another thing which I HIGHLY recommend is to ALWAYS pack a backup suit. When my suit connector broke, I simply wore my backup suit onstage.

The fit of a suit can make all the difference between placing well and being dumped into the bottom of the bin during judging. A well-fitting suit will adequately cover your curves without throwing off your natural lines, and will accentuate your strong features while camouflaging any weak points on your body. Make sure to set aside enough time when purchasing a suit or having one custom made to allow for alterations so that you can look your best on contest day.

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