Shannon Sorrels of Physix

Just when I thought I was running out of topics to inspire me, a magazine article about “finding your happy weight” caught my attention. Voila — the writing inspiration flowed like water.

It’s the holiday season and time for the obligatory “pep talk” to get you through without a lot of weight gain. But I just can’t bring myself to bore you with another “holiday tips and tricks” article. Frankly, we all know pie is a lot of calories, getting drunk usually leads to regret, and no one “deserves” cheese balls on tooth picks.

I like to think I’m reasonably intelligent, not rocket-scientist smart, but I do OK. I can usually figure stuff out if I think on it long enough and do enough research (thank you Internet). Occasionally I’m stumped — flat out puzzled and left scratching my head — and not over anything as complicated as beating SpaceX to Mars.

If you aren’t in the mood for a big, fat rant — skip this article. If you are (most find my ire humorous), sit back and enjoy. Because “obesogens” have me riled up.

I just read an article published in the International Journal of Obesity that discussed the impact of doctors’ words on patients when talking about obesity.

A recently released study on human energy expenditure (“Hunter-Gatherer Energetics and Human Obesity,” Herman Pontzer et al.) has garnered some attention in the media. The reason for all the attention? The study debunks a commonly held belief that our obesity epidemic is in large part due to our decreased physical activity.

The news is packed with headlines aghast at the recent report that Americans waste 40 percent of their food. Many are springing into action to connect food banks and shelters with restaurants, or find creative ways to compost or biofuel the leftovers. I’ve also seen reminders to “eat what you purchased.” Consumers are feeling guilty and to blame.

To most who know or have been trained by Shannon Sorrels, you know she isn’t a “pat-on-the-head” kind of trainer.

It’s August. Schools are gearing up for the return of students, and mothers everywhere are exhaling a huge sigh of exhaustion. Finally, a few hours in the day free from “I’m bored,” “I’m hungry,” and “He hit me.” Now you can focus on you.

On behalf of all fitness professionals, registered dietitians, nutritionists, physicians, nurses, physical therapists, and anyone else in the world who tries day in and day out to motivate, encourage, cajole, threaten, scare, and beg us to get healthy and fit, this one’s for you.

We’ve all gotten the finger-wagging lecture about protein from fitness trainers. Their demands for more of it leave us picturing a Henry VIII turkey leg in one hand and a dumbbell in the other. We eat meat — we’re no bunch of Birkenstock-wearing vegans (not that there’s anything wrong with that). So what the heck are they talking about?

Commitment. A word we hear often in many contexts — relationships, war efforts, diets, and even insane asylums (we all know a couple of people we think ought to be committed). According to Dictionary.com, “commit” comes from the Latin “com + mittere” meaning “to send, give over.”

It’s official. I’m old. The MeeMaw train has left the station and I’m riding in first class. I fought the passing birthdays like a champ. I’d shave off a few years when asked my age. I’d try to keep up with ever-changing cultural things — music, hair (luckily I passed through the Flock of Seagulls phase quickly), hip words (cool became rad became sick). I stayed abreast of new technologies — all my cassettes are gone, CDs are a thing of my past, and my TV is flat. But, I’ve finally given up. And the weirdest thing made me throw in the towel: an ad for yoga clothes.

It’s official. I’m old. The MeeMaw train has left the station and I’m riding in first class. I fought the passing birthdays like a champ. I’d shave off a few years when asked my age. I’d try to keep up with ever-changing cultural things — music, hair (luckily I passed through the Flock of Seagulls phase quickly), hip words (cool became rad became sick). I stayed abreast of new technologies — all my cassettes are gone, CDs are a thing of my past, and my TV is flat. But, I’ve finally given up. And the weirdest thing made me throw in the towel: an ad for yoga clothes.

Apparently we’ve found a gluttony gene (published online in the journal Nature Medicine). For those that have compulsive needs to eat non-stop, some scientists believe this gene, and its role in signaling fullness, is implicated. A genetic role of the dice could be to blame for our poundage.

Apparently we’ve found a gluttony gene (published online in the journal Nature Medicine). For those that have compulsive needs to eat non-stop, some scientists believe this gene, and its role in signaling fullness, is implicated. A genetic role of the dice could be to blame for our poundage.

A weight-loss product has me shaking my fist in the air, again. The bad ones are like cockroaches — a scourge in my plight. Just when I feel like I’ve stomped them all, there’s another. You think I’d tire of these fits, but alas.

A weight-loss product has me shaking my fist in the air, again. The bad ones are like cockroaches — a scourge in my plight. Just when I feel like I’ve stomped them all, there’s another. You think I’d tire of these fits, but alas.

There’s one universally loathed exercise: the pull-up. We helplessly dangle, barely able to grip the bar, begging our muscles to move something, and all we usually manage are wild feet kicks, if we can hang at all. We avoid the whole nonsense — how often do I “ever” need to pull myself up. Who am I? Rambo?

There’s one universally loathed exercise: the pull-up. We helplessly dangle, barely able to grip the bar, begging our muscles to move something, and all we usually manage are wild feet kicks, if we can hang at all. We avoid the whole nonsense — how often do I “ever” need to pull myself up. Who am I? Rambo?