How My Job Saved My Life…Probably

Over the last six months, I've been asked again and again what prompted my twenty-five pound weight loss since 2011.

“Tell me the secret, Lauren!”

“What’s the quick fix?”

“How do you keep it off?”

“Is it a special workout?”

“Is it a pill?”

It’s all of these things, and yet none of them at the same time. But, to better explain, I need to start at the beginning… August 2010.

When I was twenty-eight years old and loving my carb-and-grease-filled-life, I began working on the Dr. Oz show.  Most people start a new job and are inundated with the elements that go along with that job, and yes, I had some of that, but what really overloaded my brain was the sudden injection of knowledge about how I was probably destroying my body from the inside out.

I was learning things about diabetes, heart disease, Alzheimer’s, every cancer known to man, thyroids – you get the gist – and for the life of me I can’t remember having heard any of this during high school or college biology and anatomy. My God, what did I learn in those classes?

And the resounding lesson was clear: suicide isn't the only way to end your life, ignoring your health is a much easier route. I know that’s a dramatic comparison, but that’s how real this revelation was to me. And it took about a year and a half of being with the show for it to really sink in.

I come from a family plagued with stomach cancer, breast cancer, uterine cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, stroke, and God knows what else. As I considered this history and compared it to my new-found insights, I was overwhelmed by a need to rethink the relationship I had with my own body. At the time I treated it like the boy next door whose love I wasn't aware of and maybe took advantage of, and the relationship I really needed to have was one of mutual love and respect.

And that helped me understand something incredibly significant - as someone who’s dealt with body image issues and yo-yoing weight since they were twelve, my goal had always been a vain one: get skinny. And I was suddenly aware that it should have always been bigger: stay alive.

So the first phase began. I started with my diet…by not going on one. I changed the diet I was already on, the “I’m only twenty-nine, I can still eat whatever I want as long as I get on the treadmill once a week” diet. That diet was a huge, monumental lie and it needed to be buried far beneath the deepest sea.

I jumped on the Weight Watchers bandwagon at my office. My mind was blown by how efficient the program was at teaching me just how horrible some of my favorite foods were based on their points value. I remember forfeiting something like eleven points on a milkshake one time and hating myself later when all I had left to eat for the day was vegetables and it was only 1:30pm. And that’s when I thought, this thing must have a lot more fat in it than I thought, and it did. And that same experience started to play out over and over with foods I’d never considered to be detrimental to my health. Foods I’d grown up eating on a daily basis because my mother and others who raised me didn't know any better, like most of our country. So I began minimizing my interaction with them or eliminating them all together. Which lead to the next phase…

What can I eat?  

I circled back to the show and paid closer attention to our go-tos: Greek yogurt, quinoa, whole grains, kale, walnuts… I had an entire shopping list at my disposal for quite some time and had never paid attention to it. I started eating new things, healthy things, things that weren't going to wreak havoc on my arteries or clog my intestines. And the thing that was probably most surprising is that they were actually enjoyable. I’d spent most of my life thinking that reducing carbs and adding more vegetables to my diet was going to be a Fear Factor-like experiment. I really thought it’d be like eating roaches. It wasn't.

So there I am, watching my own show, taking notes on new foods I could try and soon I’m noticing other things, non-food things that I think I should give a shot, because health isn't just what you eat, it’s how you think. Doc (as I've come to call him) really has a thing for meditation and yoga. I used to giggle over this stuff; I just couldn't take it seriously. But when you find yourself on a shoot at a yoga studio and you don’t dare giggle, you start to pay attention and you start to think, “Damn, these people are really calm.” And you start to realize how not calm you are. And next thing I know I’m sitting with twenty of my coworkers, meditating in our conference room or bending in ways I didn't think I could at a yoga class.

It didn't stop there. When your host is the kind of celebrity that actually practices what they preach, and when you spend hours in the presence of that host, you start to really pay attention. I began questioning what nutrients I was missing on a daily basis, what natural supplements I should be taking, what could help me build myself up to combat any crappy illness that might come my way. I ate good things, I followed a supplement regiment and I started to feel good, genuinely good, throughout all of my body. And around this time, almost two years into working with the show, I met someone who took health just as seriously as I did. Which led to one of the most important phases…

Support.

Bless my family for being such loving and wonderful people, they mean well, I know they do, but they can really be crappy eaters. I constantly have to defend myself for plating only a spoon of rice at Sunday dinner instead of half a plate. “Lauren, you've lost enough weight, stop dieting!” I’m not dieting and I've tried explaining this a million times, but people are just set in their ways sometimes. And here’s a tip: you know all those greasy, delicious foods you grew up loving (especially if you come from a Puerto Rican household like mine), when you haven’t had them for months they are still going to taste just as decadent, but there’s a good chance you’ll be sick for a day or two after eating them (firsthand experience). It’s like your body says, “Please don’t go back to eating that. You never noticed it before, but now you see how much I hate it.”

Luckily, there’s my fiancé, Matt, to help balance the scales. I can’t remember at what point in our relationship we learned that we both adhere to the healthiest lifestyle possible, probably after the first few months of dating where all you do is eat awesome food and drink awesome cocktails at awesome restaurants. (See, I still know how to enjoy food and life. Take that, non-believers!) Turns out he ran the NYC marathon, does yoga and tries his best to limit refined foods, but boy does he love cheese. I think he derives from a line of mice. I digress… The point is, I never had to explain myself to Matt, because he felt the same way and he could care less about losing weight, he just wants to live his life without a barrage of health scares waiting for him at every turn. He gets it. Thanks, babe!

So you see… it’s not one thing that helped me lose weight, and yet there is one goal that definitely did: not aiming to lose weight. I just celebrated my thirty-second birthday. My vitals are better than they were in my twenties, and I’m not only thinner, I’m stronger, both inside and out.  I don’t give people advice on how to lose weight, I ask them what means more to them; fitting into a pair of jeans from their thinner days or living until they are a hundred and being in the best shape throughout? Working on this show helped me understand the real difference between those options. And now, you know not just how I did it, but why.

By the way, I'm engaged...

And the story about how that came to be can be found here: http://everyonesweddingbutmine.wordpress.com/2013/09/10/the-day-the-world-stood-still/

Enjoy :)

So when I talk about love...

---and relationships and everything in between, you will find those writings here: www.everyonesweddingbutmine.com I'm going to keep the blogspot for all other things - entertainment, randomness, upcoming projects and life lessons.

And now that I've had two weeks on hiatus to sit around and remember that I used to do this thing called writing, I took a moment to write something I should have penned months ago. It has to do with a valuable lesson a 22 year old songstress taught me: http://everyonesweddingbutmine.wordpress.com/2013/01/05/taylor-swift-little-miss-love-prodigy/

My "Sandy" View of Politics

I've never been one to heavily deal in the stress-inducing game that is political discussion, especially around the Presidency. Maybe it's because it's not in my nature to believe any one person could have that much power. Within my daily life, the only person who can really "change" anything (for better or worse) is me.

So I'll admit that the first time I ever voted was in the 2008 election. And yes, I voted for Obama. There were two main reasons; I believed in him and I wanted to see something unprecedented happen in our history. Oh, and I also thought Sarah Palin was batshit crazy and feared that McCain could die while in office, allowing her to take over the Presidency... And after watching Obama take the win, I returned to my little non-political world and continued life.

Four years later, another election rolled around and I often found myself avoiding water cooler talks about the candidates and Facebook arguments about policies. To be honest, I wasn't convinced anyone could undo the damage our economy has suffered, but I also wasn’t sold on the idea of jumping ship and into the arms of a guy who only seems concerned with money. “But that’s what we need!” some of my left-siding friends cried. They aren’t wrong. I recently learned the value of property I bought four years ago has tanked and I nearly had a heart attack. But the economy isn't the only issue our country faces, and knowing that left me with this question: is it better to vote for a guy whom I feel entirely unconnected to, but who MIGHT help the economy grow a little bit in the next 4 years? (And I say a little bit because if anyone takes over and drastically changes our economy it means at least one class of people is getting totally screwed.) Or do I reelect a man who did ok (not great) with the hand he was dealt? Up until a week ago, I really wasn’t sure.

Then Sandy arrived.

Like pretty much everyone on the East Coast, I shooed away the idea that Sandy would bring us anything more than some rain. Friends in Florida told me she had barely bothered them, so really, what could she do to the North? Well, a whole lot.

She arrived near my birthday, turning my celebration into (at first) a three day weekend. I only flinched slightly when the Mayor announced he was shutting down our transit system. “It’ll be OK ” I told myself. The next day, as we sat watching preparations unfold on the news and the wind starting to whip passed our window, the power went out. I slept restlessly that night.

Twelve hours later I left my apartment with a suitcase and a hope that I’d be able to return home the next day. With power on in my temporary home, I once again returned to the news and what I saw left me speechless... Lower Manhattan was dark and under water... Staten Island was submerged... And the Jersey Shore was almost non-existent. Images of the Jersey Shore were what made my heart stop. Having not spent much time there prior to this summer, it's ironic that just two months ago I was experiencing it almost for the first time.

This is a photo I took of Casino Pier where I ran around like a child in August. 

This is the roller coaster on that pier that I rode and made me scream like a little girl.

This is that same roller coaster after Sandy...

(unknown source)

Source: STAR-LEDGER, DAVID GARD — AP Photo

And these are the streets I walked...

Source: (Saed Hindash/The Star-Ledger)

I found myself curling further into a ball as each image became increasingly more disturbing. "How could this happen?" I asked to no one in particular. And I realized then that unlike the economy, it's going to take a lot more than money to fix this tragedy. It's going to take patience, leadership and heart.

Like many others, I was glued to the TV during all the press conferences. And while I applaud Governor Cuomo and Mayor Bloomberg for how they handled New York's crisis, I was most affected by Governor Christie. He was clearly devastated by the destruction of his state, but he was also strong and humble. And when President Obama came to New Jersey's aid in record time, he pushed aside his political affiliations and was gracious and appreciative. More so,  when he was asked about the campaign (for which, up until this point he'd been a strong and loud supporter of Romney) he sternly replied, "“I have no idea, nor am I the least bit concerned or interested. I’ve got a job to do here in New Jersey that’s much bigger than presidential politics, and I could care less about any of that stuff.” I wanted to hug him. 

On Wednesday, when the President toured New Jersey's coast with the Governor, there was a genuine concern shared between them and photos like this emerged.

Source:  Pablo Martinez Monsivais, AP

And as they took the podium side by side to address the crowd of pained but coping shore dwellers, it suddenly occurred to me that they were a team I would vote for. I don't care that Governor Christie is Republican or that President Obama is a Democrat. I care that they care, and that I believe they care. And I have faith that they want and will do all they can to help rectify what nature's fury has left behind.

And I wish that is what politics were really about - nominating someone you could believe in on every level instead of nominating the person that might help your wallet. Because, as we learned from Sandy, it doesn't matter how big of a house you have, it can be gone in an instant. And when the dust settles, it's not just a check you need, but a leader who will help instill the faith you are searching for to make it through the very hard times ahead... 

To donate money towards recovery to all areas affected by Sandy, please visit RedCross.org 

And on November 6th, when it's time to choose a leader for this nation, no matter who you cast your vote for just make sure you go DO IT.

A Case of Accidental Celebrity

Admission #1: I've always wanted to be some sort of star.

Admission #2: I never expected my claim to fame to come from a commercial promoting singles dating in New York City. 

Admission #3: Beneath the surface, I still smile when someone makes fun of me for participating in the above. 

Now that I got that off my chest, I guess it would be a good time to explain how said commercial came to be...

It's not a secret, at least not to those in my immediate circle, that I have had a whirlwind of a love life over the last two years. I will keep the details to myself (and to my best friends whom I've had sign NDAs.) What I will share is that I adhered to the advice of a friend and joined Match.com "to try something different." I wasn't on the site long before I was contacted by the [awesome] marketing team because of my outgoing profile and favorable pics. I was asked to be a part of their new campaign by participating in a group event and chatting about my experience... And what an experience it was! 

A few months later, as I vacationed in Key West, I began to receive a flurry of texts, IMs, Facebook messages, emails and carrier pigeon notes claiming I'd been seen all across the United States from flat screen to flat screen. I didn't get it. I didn't know what they were seeing... And then, as I sat beside my Floridian best friend, watching something loud on Bravo, I heard my own voice say "If I can get my flirt on, it's all good!" And then I saw this goofy smile:

I promptly threw myself under a mound of throw pillows while Marjorie giggled and pointed. The influx of commentary poured in thereafter, concluding in my office when I returned from summer hiatus. I had to confront the 30+ people that I'd gone more than a month without seeing, but whom had each seen me... toothy, grinning me. 

That was about a month ago and since then Match has continued their campaign with new ads and me with my life. I'm no longer on television, and, ironically, no longer on Match. Is it because I actually met my match? A girl has to keep a secret or two... or maybe she just needed to go back to work. 

"Dear Me at 30"

Five years ago my friend Candace and I came up with the idea that we should write letters to ourselves at random moments in the years leading up to our thirtieth birthdays. Call it self-help, call it therapy, call it nuts. Whatever you want to call it, we did it, or at least I did, and I ended up writing myself several letters at various points throughout that time span. As I battle a head cold tonight, unable to sleep, the memory of them returned to me. So I find it only appropriate that I return to blogging by divulging bits of what I learned about myself...and about life in general.

"When I think back to my childhood, I'm reminded of a little girl with brown curly hair and big brown eyes who didn't know how not to portray the emotions she was experiencing at any given moment. She possessed an undying ambition to ham it up at every opportunity and utilize her wise-cracking mouth. (Pause) I guess I haven't changed much...but, to some degree, I've evolved." - 4/8/06


They say you can't get anywhere if you don't know where you came from and my first step toward growing up may have been coming to the realization that I'm not that much different than I was when I was five. And the second step: being okay with that. Being okay with who you are. I can't say I've fully grasped the second step yet, but I'm learning to...

"I worry that my talents will not get their chance to come to fruition." 


That line is from the same letter. Firstly, why am I using words like fruition when I'm writing a letter to myself? Secondly, this was a worry that would trouble me desperately for the next four years. But it was this same worry that would propel me to bust my ass on weekends and create web content without a budget and hope that at some point it would all mean something to my future. Which leads me to a telling moment from another letter...

"I think the main reason I've never actively pursued my creative side is a fear of rejection. I hold my writing so close to my heart that if I'm told it sucks I may abandon it forever." -7/17/08


I was on the verge of completing my first web series, Linked, and feeling incredible pressure for it to be successful, not for just myself but for all those who had dedicated their free time to make it happen. I remember reaching a do or die point where I had to finalize the second half of the series, 40-50 pages of script, within a two day span. I sat on the porch of my family's beach house in North Carolina and was shaking from the pressure and fear that I couldn't finish the project. And then I told myself "Stop worrying about what you can't do and just DO." And after that...I wrote...and wrote...and I finished it. I look back now and know that I could have made the series even better had I had an actual budget, but I did what I could... and what I could turned into a project that made the series a finalist in a nationwide competition. But more so than that, it alleviated a bit of my fear. To say I am fearless now would mean that I have learned nothing at all. Fear drives me, without it I would be complacent.

"My life has changed so rapidly in the last few weeks that I can't seem to make sense of anything. I'm stuck on a ride that spins uncontrollably with a broken brake and I have no idea where I will land." -8/1/10


This was the beginning of a new chapter in my life...Scratch that.  This was the beginning of a whole new book! The year I spent as a twenty-nine year old (and the few months leading into it) would prove to be the most eventful (sad, happy, life-altering) year of my life... Or at least to date. I would spend the full year without a strongly significant other in my life, something I hadn't done since...since...Crap, was I ever single before this?? Simultaneously, I would attend four weddings of very close friends, then have several friends also give birth to children and through it all have my mother giving up on me and fearing she would never have her own grandchildren. She means well though, and when she found the cutest puppy in the world to call her own, she stopped beating me with the pressure of being the only child and continuing our family lineage. So with that off my plate, I relaxed and started to learn the difference between alone and lonely. And I was okay.

And in the midst of that biological and emotional chaos, I made a career change and left my stable and secure job in the corporate world for the ever-changing, never 100% stable, always energy-draining life that is the television business. Within one TV season, I learned and propelled to heights I'll admit I hadn't thought I could handle. And when that first chaotic season was behind me I stopped to reflect on it and realized that for the first time, I had to give myself some kind of credit. I may not be the best, but I'm good at this. And I can be better, and I will be, and then I'll try to be even better than that. I'll keep learning from others, their fortunes and their mistakes. And I will be grateful for having known them all.  

As if I could pack anything else into my 29th year, I took two amazing trips; one to my family's homeland of Puerto Rico and one across the Atlantic to Europe. In PR I learned that what is usually familiar can become something wondrous when you're the one in charge of showing others what you know. And in Europe, as I made the journey on my own, I learned friendships aren't hard to come by when you're stuck on a bus with fifty people or viewing some of the most amazing sights our world has to offer us. And from both I learned that the places I've been are only the first steps towards where I will go in this lifetime.

So, as I sit here, writing all this and wondering how I should end it, I realize that there is no end...just more of life to look forward to.

"Dear Me at 40...I hope you are still learning. I hope you are not fully satisfied so that you keep striving to make a difference in your own life and that of others. I hope there is still some fear in you so that you will push yourself to reach greater heights. I hope that you have evolved... but I'll he happy to know that, deep down, you are still that little girl you first wrote about when you were 25..." 

Planned Spontaneity

I wouldn't say I grew up the most rambunctious and free-spirited of kids. I planned my Saturday morning cartoon marathons according to a schedule that included a breakfast break and cleaning duties. Twenty years later, I haven't proven to be much different than that little chubster. I make weekend plans several weeks in advance, organize my day around a timed distribution of snacks, and search for summer weekend getaways in February. It's just how I am.

But, in the last year, there are things outside of my control that take the luxury of planning away from me. I have a job that keeps me working around the clock and a diminishing list of single, childless friends to keep me company. The times I find myself free are usually last minute and, unfortunately, not when my my friends are available. I've been a bit cranky about it. Three weeks ago, on a Friday night, I desperately wanted tacos and cupcakes. (I know that's random, but one block length of Mott Street will bring you to both.) Sadly, no one was free to accompany me and I couldn't stand the thought of going alone, so I didn't. Instead, I pouted and stomped my way home.

This past Thursday, I regained a sense of purpose because I had a clear plan for my evening. I would take an uneventful subway ride to Houston & Allen Street to see my friend Nicholas Howard perform at Rockwood Music Hall. Simple as that. But, when I jumped on the F train, that plan immediately swerved off course... 

I took a seat on the train, tired from my day, and pumped up the volume on my iPod. I did a little seat dancing to a Rhianna song in hopes of waking myself up. That's when I noticed the girl standing in front of me was doing the same thing, tapping her foot to a beat I couldn't hear. I was so caught up in admiring her stylish snow boots that it took me several minutes to look up at her face. When I did, my mouth nearly feel open.

Unless this woman has an identical twin in NYC, I was staring at America Ferrera. I nearly lost my sense of control and tugged on her arm. For those of you that don't already know, I had a serious love for the TV show Ugly Betty. It reminded me (almost too much) of my life as an assistant and of being the only Latino in my workplace. When the series ended I wrote a tribute to it on Huffington Post and caught the attention of Michael Urie, an actor on the show. While I love Michael, this moment with America may top my list of celebrity interactions... Except we never actually interacted.

I think the air changes the moment a person recognizes a celebrity, and the celebrity notices them stalking staring. I could almost feel her quick look into my eyes tell me "Please don't say anything, I just want to get home." Had I been standing next to her I would have simply mouthed the words, "I loved Ugly Betty." But, from my seated position this wasn't possible and so I rode with her standing three inches from me all the way to 2nd Avenue. When the train came to a stop, I gathered myself, and my longing need to expose her identity, and exited. 

When I got above ground I immediately called Jonathan, who shared my love of UB, and left an explosive voice mail on his cell that was both rushed and, I'm sure, incomprehensible. I then got wind whipped back into sense and made my way down Allen Street toward Rockwood, all the while smiling and finding it hard to believe in my unplanned encounter. 

I grabbed a table with Nick's parents, their friends and my mom who had actually made her way into the city for the performance. If you haven't seen it, Rockwood's stage 2 is a sexy venue, lit in such a way that everything looks hazily red except for the stage. I prefer the word intimate to small, but whichever you use, it is only worthwhile to know that it was filled up rather quickly. Nick jumped on around 7:30 and started things off with a newly written song that easily hooked the crowd and grabbed their attention for the rest of his set. The boy did his thing and (as his friend I can tell) is finding his comfort zone with the piano, making beautiful arrangements pulse through the air.   

After Nick, the headliner, Maiysha, took the stage with her band. I'd heard her music briefly on iTunes but, if I'm going to be honest, it was only a small glimpse of what this gorgeous woman is capable of. I connected with nearly every song she sang, less because of the songs themselves and more because of her voice and performance. She was sassy and sexy, but only in a way that was wonderfully compelling instead of tacky. The emotion in her voice had a way of resonating with me. By the time she was done I was fully aware of the new fan she now had within me. 

Hours after I had entered Rockwood dazed with the sighting of my TV icon, I left dazed by the vocals of two super talented musicians. I was on some weird entertainment high. My mother asked what I planned to do next and for once I wasn't really sure, I only knew that I didn't want to go home. That's when I got an unplanned text message from my friend Chris asking me if I was in the city. As it turns out he was only a few train stops away. So, I went along with this unplanned turn of events and joined him at Florencia 13 in the Village. 

Chris and I met in March of 2006 when I stepped outside a club for fresh air and he decided to chat me up while he smoked a cigarette. One month away from exactly five years later, we're still close friends regardless of the fact that we rarely see each other. I ordered a glass of wine and he suggested I eat some tacquitos when I told him I hadn't had dinner. Over the next hour we caught up on our work lives, love lives (or lack thereof) and whatever else came to mind. We laughed at the fact that had we actually planned to get together, it may have taken months. 

"That's the thing about life in New York, it's a plethora of random, unplanned moments," Chris said. I smiled. 

The next day, I started writing this blog and planned to finish it at home that evening, but I was sidetracked by a conversation I was having with Jonathan via text. 

Me: It's Friday and I'm going home to write a blog. I'm a loser. 

Jon: Call me right now.

I call Jonathan. He answers and before he can say anything I jump in with, "Before you tell me I need to stop whining and man up and remember what's good in my life, let me just tell you that there's a box filled with nails that I'd rather go stand in barefoot." 

"Listen, hot mess, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to ask you if you want to meet up for happy hour," was his answer. Well, that was unexpected. Locking down plans with Jon is something I usually start to put together at least two months in advance. This was a treat. 

I met him and his friend Nicole at the Adidas store on Houston. After my shoes were complimented, which flattered me considering I see both Jon and Nicole as highly fashionable people, we zig-zagged our way through SoHo to Sweet & Vicious. Nicole suggested a frozen margarita, something the place is known for and I easily obliged when I found out it came in a mason jar. As we sipped the slushy wonderfulness, we chatted about music and the OWN network. Nicole had to dip out shortly thereafter, leaving Jon and I to our usual devices. And by devices I mean Jon saying so many hilarious one liners that I ended up quoting him on Twitter repeatedly. For example: "Why is 'Depression Advice' following me on Twitter?" and, my personal favorite of the evening, "When your undergarments can check in to separate places on Four Square, you're a whore." If you're not yet aware of why I love this guy, you haven't been reading my blogs closely enough.

By 930pm, the week was weighing on me and I was getting sleepy. Jon's friend Carolina arrived, giving me the out I needed to not feel bad about leaving him at the bar. I hugged them all goodbye and then headed out. There was only one problem...I was starving. 

I looked up at the street sign as I walked. I was closing in on Spring and Mott Street. Which meant that if I turned right I would end up on Mott between Spring and Prince...which was exactly where my tacos and cupcakes were located. This was the place I had wanted to visit three weeks ago. There I was, alone and in very cool shoes with a rumbling stomach. I took a deep breath, walked up to Pinche Taqueria and opened the door. 

A burst of loud voices and laughs greeted me, as the place was filled with a group of people who were clearly friends gathering between bar hops. I ordered my two tacos and walked over to a small, unoccupied table. No one looked at me weird and I didn't do something strange like implode. I just sat and ate the delicious braised pork tacos. 

Over the course of two evenings I had two unplanned, but totally welcomed meet-ups, a celebrity sighting, had fantastic music touch my ears, and an experience of eating on my own. Life is continually changing...and I'm starting to think it's not such a bad thing.