Maybe it’s just human nature to want maximum results with minimal effort, but what I usually tell people is the more succinct, “I’m lazy.”

There is a part of me that doesn’t actually want to work out at all. However, if you are a regular exerciser (I don’t know many of those) and you worry about motivation, I highly recommend injuring your lower back/hip so you can’t work out for a while. You will come to wistfully remember just two weeks ago when you were not completely batshit insane and could run without a care in the world.

I digress. I meant to say that I don’t want to spend 600 thousand hours in the gym doing some crazy ass rubber band workout like Gwyneth or any other underweight blonde. I don’t have that kind of time. So I have been taught a few strategies for getting the most out of my workouts. One is to do exercises that incorporate multiple muscle groups at once. (This is all that free weight and functional fitness gospel stuff, though you shouldn’t look to me for any preaching, I’m too self-absorbed to be converting anyone.)

And another strategy is to find ways to push myself — to pick up big weights. Biggest I can find. If I choose the gigantic dumbbell or barbell or whatever, then I know I will probably be exerting myself, rather than kicking back and dinking out my reps. But there is a problem here, and so I have to raise my hand and say,

“My name is Sherika and I am a the ninja in the corner doing curls with the 20 pound weights.”

(Psst! Now you all say, “Hi Sherika!”)

What I mean is that I can get so caught up in using the gigantic-est weight I can lift that I sometimes mess up in other areas. Generally this is a disease that afflicts a lot of guys, and women tend to not use enough weight to get strength training results. But obviously there can be gender crossover, because I have this problem too.

What’s wrong with being a Sherika-ninja? Well, a couple things. For one, if you have an injury—like say, a back injury—and you decide to use the heaviest weight in the gym just because you are really broken in the head, you can end up with a messed up back to match.

But probably more relevant, there are times when a big weight means you also sacrifice other things, like form, and integrity. I get this when I watch someone crank out 72 pull ups, but they never fully extend their arms.

Truth is that you can make yourself work hard with less weight if you remain conscious of form (keep abs tight or back straight or whatever) and make sure you get full extensions and so on. You can also increase things like the speed of your reps to make everything a wee bit harder. So why wouldn’t I do that instead, and spare my body the possible injury? So glad you asked. Because 1) it takes more work mentally to practice full range of motion executed well, and 2) it’s way less showy than the big bulge of the heavier weight.

But the first step is admitting you have a problem, and so there, I said it. Now that I’ve been out of the game for a while, I want to stage my comeback by keeping the weight lighter but finding ways to kick my own ass with better, prettier reps. Wish me luck on that and hide the big dumbbells too, just to help me out.

Folks don’t eat enough vegetables, and I think I figured out the reason why: most of them are just so poorly named that them hardly come off as appetizing. Who wants to eat something called “parsnips” or “turnips”? These items, like a lot of their veggie companions, need a branding makeover. Over at sherikahenry.com, there’s nothing I believe in more than a strong brand.

Do your part in helping people eat more fresh veggies by immediately adopting all these new names. The sooner they catch on, the sooner everyone can start benefiting from eating better and living healthier.

Asparagus sounds too much like “ass”. New name: Tender Yum-Yum Sticks.

Artichoke? Please! Nobody wants to eat something that has “choke” in its name. New name: Sugar-coated Funplant.

Mustard Greens?  Huh? This is one that I don’t get at all. They’re not yellow. They don’t taste like mustard. It just doesn’t make any sense. Besides, not everybody likes mustard. New name: Ketchup Greens.

Brussell Sprouts? No. Baby Boom-Boom Cabbages? Oh hell yeah!

Eggplant? Ridiculous. In Europe, they refer to it as “aubergine,” but that sounds like a new line of fragrance or some sort of skin rash ointment. New name: Tastyglobe.

Okra? That’s an easy fix. New name: Fried Okra.

Bell Peppers put people off because they expect them to make a ringing sound when you shake them. The best thing to do would be to add a ringing sound chip but easiest thing would be to change name. New name: Clapperless Bell Peppers.

Celery. Just the sound of that word makes me grimace. But I could munch on it if it had an enticing handle. New name: Savory Crunchsticks.

Squash. Is this a joke name? Did people used to just squash these plants for fun before realizing that you could actually eat them? New name: Lovemunchkins.

Chard. Now that’s just harsh as names go. It needs something softer, more gentle, more inviting. New name: Miracle Goodness Greens.

Kohlrabi. I’m sorry, but if I’m naming a vegetable, I try to keep from making it sound like a race of alien villains from Star Trek. New name: Chocólate (the “ó” makes it different than regular “chocolate”).

Rootabaga. – Actually, this is a perfectly named vegetable.

Radicchio – I’ve never liked this one. It sounds like you’re nose will grow an inch if you eat it. New name: Mmmm Mmmm Stuff.

Spinach. Despite Popeye the Sailor Man’s efforts to make it popular, this leafy green vegetable has never gotten its due. There’s only one person who can change that. New name: Sh*tach.

Divided or united, these cupcakes didn’t stand a chance. I devoured it in 5 seconds.

Originally posted on February 14, 2009

The pressure is on. It’s the big “V” day. Not vagina day, though it might as well be called that because it’s all about the women. It is perhaps the most dangerous day for any man in a relationship: Yes, it’s Valentine’s day, the day when a woman wants her man to shed his rough edges and turn into a modern Casanova.

I‘ve put my request in writing to my love monkey: “Honey, the best present you can give me is to leave me alone with a box of cake mix, the internet and a pound of chicken fried rice. Please don’t bother me about what I’d like to do, or where I’d like to go. But you are already so brilliant in the way you sense my desires that I didn’t even have to request that. Have a great day snow-boarding with your friends, and let’s go out tomorrow, the day after vagina day. We will have an amazing dinner (like we always do), it will be half the price and twice the fun (like it always is).” I picture him smiling at my note with that colgate smile and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. There are few things that can make an ice princess like me feel warm and fuzzy.

I don’t know why this stupid holiday full of expectations pisses me off so much. I mean chocolate? C’mon, my fridge is loaded. Flowers? They wilt and die, not a symbol of the love I want. Lingerie? It’s too big, it’s too small, it’s made to look good on Heidi Klum, and, let’s face the facts–I’m no Heidi Klum…I’m better.

It troubles my nerves that this one day out of the year bears so much significance, when in fact, these expectations that we have of our partners should be recognized in everyday practice. Partnership, love, respect, fun, intimacy and affection. Everyday should be valentines day.

Let me share some of my favorite facts about vagina day:

And to those of you who expect so much on Valentine’s day, I’d be curious to know: what does it really mean for you?

1. Photographing my cats. Yes, I know — weird.

2. Flannel. Wear with clear heels and you will suddenly feel much sexier. Just don’t tell anyone.

3. Don’t diet. Ever. I hate “no”. I get rebellious, and I really don’t like challenging myself to stay away from Buttercup Bakery. I think the cookies must get lonely, begging for a belly to love them. The best part? Learning to love the badass exercise session the day after—a different kind of high that burns off the frosting and keeps me and my body in check. Plus, cupcakes makes me much nicer and easier for others to love me.

4. Getting up today, feeling achy, too tired to move. By evening, total running euphoria, muscles nice and pliable, thanks to exercise.

5. More Running. I covet being a gazelle, so running for speed and beating previous times/miles is important to my training. I continue to challenge myself by perfecting my stride, but my darn lower back can keep up. I still practice…being sweaty makes me feel good.

6. Walking around NYC with the confidence in your stride knowing that you strong enough to resist a push or pull.

What are your 6 things?

This is a hard thing to write about for three reasons:

1) We are veering way too far out of fitness land, and
2) I don’t like that type of web traffic that this topic brings me
3) Google bots don’t like the word vagina

But it will not stop me from writing about it, if only I could just stop laughing first.

Many people have their own way of describing that female part — but me, personally? I like Chelsea Handler’s description best: Kaslopis. Let’s make something clear, I have no idea if that’s someone’s name, the name of their company or their pet. I just think it sounds funny as hell. And who doesn’t like a funny kaslopis?

Well, imagine my shock when I came across this sacred kaslopis purse. All I could think about is sticking my hand into a coochie-like-purse-thing every time I needed my chapstick, even if it is: “More than a sumptuous Renaissance bag, the Velvet V represents in three-dimensional form the sacred portal to the feminine temple” and when “Each has sumptuous fabric labia and a beautiful button clitoris.” And you cannot use the word “sumptuous” twice in one passage, even when referring to a velvety scary red kaslopis bag.

Oh, and beware of purse snatchers. Booyah!

If you know anything about me, then you can just imagine just how delighted I was when I saw this headline: “Masturbation cuts cancer risk”. Awww yeah. That’s right, I’m just sticking it to cancer.

Then I read a little further and discovered the study refers to guys, something about flushing out the fluids (um, eweee) to reduce the risk of prostate cancer. I guess if the fluids build up from not enough ejaculations, the carcinogens that accumulate in the prostate just hang around and cause trouble. Oh, and just having more sex isn’t going to rectify the problem, because of the risk of a sexually transmitted disease, which could then increase cancer risk.

I am totally on board with just about any measure that has to be taken to prevent cancer, but I am particularly fond of it when researchers show that some activity I enjoy actually has health benefits. For example, dark chocolate I believe was linked with cancer prevention, so now I’m not just having my third chocolate bar of the day…I’m saving myself from cancer!! Everyone knows my stance on drinking red wine: the more, the better your chance of preventing heart disease. Still waiting for the study that links cake, particularly cupcakes with increased intelligence, but I’m sure it’s right around the corner.

So men, get going. Go to town. Go nuts.

And here’s a great quote from the story: “If these findings hold up, then it’s perfectly reasonable that men should be encouraged to masturbate.”  Um, does anyone really need encouragement to do this, and, if my doctor suggested that to me, I’d be totally confused, and probably say, “Like…right now…??