Two posts in one day!! Wow.
My sister Sahm is teaching another fitness class. It is called "Hip Hop Hustle" and it is really dance squad for grownups. I am planning on going and am really excited about it. It starts next Monday. Keep your fingers crossed that no dumb excuses pop up to derail my ambition.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Compliments = Cake
Hi folks! Miss me?
Well, I have been up to no good, so I did not blog about it to avoid shame and guilt. Or at least to avoid accountability. Anyway, I eat too many sweets, so that has not improved much. I have not been working out AT ALL, so that is pretty ineffective. Sigh.
Today I wore a skirt and top that I have not worn since Fall and got many compliments. I didn't get compliments merely on the outfit, but on the fact that I appeared (to these observers) thin. This puffed up my head like a pastry and prompted me to celebrate with chocolate cake at lunch. I shake my head at my own rationalization and denial. I mean, how does that make sense?? I look thin so I eat cake?? Huh? Doesn't eating cake in combination with no exercise lead to NOT looking thin? I believe it does. Or, at least, it has EVERY OTHER TIME I have tried that combination. You'd think I would call "BS" on myself in those instances. But, apparently, I don't.
By the way, the cake was fantastic...
Well, I have been up to no good, so I did not blog about it to avoid shame and guilt. Or at least to avoid accountability. Anyway, I eat too many sweets, so that has not improved much. I have not been working out AT ALL, so that is pretty ineffective. Sigh.
Today I wore a skirt and top that I have not worn since Fall and got many compliments. I didn't get compliments merely on the outfit, but on the fact that I appeared (to these observers) thin. This puffed up my head like a pastry and prompted me to celebrate with chocolate cake at lunch. I shake my head at my own rationalization and denial. I mean, how does that make sense?? I look thin so I eat cake?? Huh? Doesn't eating cake in combination with no exercise lead to NOT looking thin? I believe it does. Or, at least, it has EVERY OTHER TIME I have tried that combination. You'd think I would call "BS" on myself in those instances. But, apparently, I don't.
By the way, the cake was fantastic...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Snap Out of It, Already!
Dear Me,
Pull yourself together, woman! Seriously, now. The constant stream of cookies is not solving anything, is it? IS IT?! No, so back away from the carbs and do something else. Let go of useless anger, let go of "should" and deal with life as it is. Let go of judgment, and open your eyes to see the real deal, which is really quite tolerable and even blessed. Quit whining about not having a 6-figure salary, 6-pack abs and 6 days in Jamaica.
Look around you!! You are sitting in your own suite of offices, two advanced degrees in your head and on your walls, two children who are talented, smart and going to be lovely adults, two sisters who are more fun than fun-sized snickers (and that's a lot of fun). You are wearing single-digit sized clothing (for now, unless the cookie deluge continues). Yes, your house is small, but it is safe, comfortable and more than meets your needs. Yes, your spouse is sad, but something will come his way and he will find a way to look on the bright side of life as well. Stop acting like someone stole your birthday.
If you do not heed these words, I swear on all things holy that I will bitch-slap you and then you will look even crazier than you do by writing a letter to yourself. I'm pretty sure neither of us wants that.
Love,
Your sane side.
Pull yourself together, woman! Seriously, now. The constant stream of cookies is not solving anything, is it? IS IT?! No, so back away from the carbs and do something else. Let go of useless anger, let go of "should" and deal with life as it is. Let go of judgment, and open your eyes to see the real deal, which is really quite tolerable and even blessed. Quit whining about not having a 6-figure salary, 6-pack abs and 6 days in Jamaica.
Look around you!! You are sitting in your own suite of offices, two advanced degrees in your head and on your walls, two children who are talented, smart and going to be lovely adults, two sisters who are more fun than fun-sized snickers (and that's a lot of fun). You are wearing single-digit sized clothing (for now, unless the cookie deluge continues). Yes, your house is small, but it is safe, comfortable and more than meets your needs. Yes, your spouse is sad, but something will come his way and he will find a way to look on the bright side of life as well. Stop acting like someone stole your birthday.
If you do not heed these words, I swear on all things holy that I will bitch-slap you and then you will look even crazier than you do by writing a letter to yourself. I'm pretty sure neither of us wants that.
Love,
Your sane side.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Disappointing, Not a Crisis
I was sorely disappointed today and am working really hard to not throw a 3-year-old fit about it. I want to. I want to pout and whine and cross my arms and say, "Well fine then, I'm not your friend any more." So there. Sometimes I really dislike being a grownup.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Stuart Smalley
Do you remember Stuart Smalley from Saturday Night Live? I think that guy who later went into politics in Minnesota played that character. Why can't I think of his name? Whatever, like I care at this moment? No. I CLEARLY remember Stuart Smalley with his sweater and slight lisp and big oval mirror. He was the affirmations guy who ended with "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me."
Today I am feeling rather disheartened and inadequate and so I am trying to do some affirmations. They all sound as hokey as Stuart's. Why are we so hard on ourselves as a race of beings? If we are not hard on ourselves we call it "narcissism" and in the Midwest it is very much expected that we be self-ingratiating. I mean, you'll be given sideways glances of reproach if you dare tout your accomplishments in this neck of the woods. But really, culture is not to blame in this instance.
I got my W-2 in the mail today, and to my dismay it is a fur piece off from last year's earnings. You see, you all thought I was a psychologist, but actually I am a widget maker. And I did not track my widgets carefully and apparently made far fewer than last year. So I am internalizing and personalizing this in a grandly ineffective manner (ineffective in making me feel good about myself). Now it's about my work ethic (lazy and inefficient) and my ability as an adult (bad provider for family, selfish). Blehhhhhhhh.
I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it people like me. Money is not everything, money is not everything, money is not everything.....
Today I am feeling rather disheartened and inadequate and so I am trying to do some affirmations. They all sound as hokey as Stuart's. Why are we so hard on ourselves as a race of beings? If we are not hard on ourselves we call it "narcissism" and in the Midwest it is very much expected that we be self-ingratiating. I mean, you'll be given sideways glances of reproach if you dare tout your accomplishments in this neck of the woods. But really, culture is not to blame in this instance.
I got my W-2 in the mail today, and to my dismay it is a fur piece off from last year's earnings. You see, you all thought I was a psychologist, but actually I am a widget maker. And I did not track my widgets carefully and apparently made far fewer than last year. So I am internalizing and personalizing this in a grandly ineffective manner (ineffective in making me feel good about myself). Now it's about my work ethic (lazy and inefficient) and my ability as an adult (bad provider for family, selfish). Blehhhhhhhh.
I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it people like me. Money is not everything, money is not everything, money is not everything.....
Sunday, January 30, 2011
For Women Only!
I mean it! Men should not read this post! If you are a man and are now curious enough to continue reading, I urge you to stop. I am going to talk about menstrual cycle issues!
Ok, that should have cleared out any of the men-folk. As women, we teach our daughters and granddaughters many things, including crafty-handiwork types of things. My mother taught me how to make cookies, make cute refridgerator magnets out of dough that you bake and paint, and how to braid hair. My grandmother taught me to crochet and embroider, and how to shop a craft fair in an organized fashion. All good lessons. My great grandmother knew how to sew, a skill I grasped only for home-ec classes and then quickly let loose.
There is one home-made item that we should all teach our daughters to create: the "emergency-situation toilet paper feminine hygiene apparatus." Just try to tell me that you have not had to make one of these, and I will call you a liar.
You know what the tp-napkin (tp-nap for short) is, don't lie! You find youself in a situation where your body gives you the signal that you do not have the appropriate garment protection at the moment and are in danger of having a very embarassing moment. You also have the misfortune to be without access to products that would quickly resolve the situation. You try to apply pressure to the area by walking like a penguin to the nearest restroom and fashion the tp-nap to buy you some time until you can find the appropriate feminine hygiene product.
There are a couple of configurations of the tp-napkin, depending on the emergency and the tp available. If you have the misfortune of being in a restroom with those dumb individual squares of tp that come out like Kleenex, you just pull and pull until you have a thick enough pile, balance them precariously on your underwear and pull up. I have never been brave enough to try an extra barrier of these between the underwear and actual jeans or pants for fear that the squares would sneak down the pant leg and escape onto the floor for a truely horrific moment. If you get to a place with real tp roles, then you can do the pile or wad of tp balanced on the underwear, then bound on by wrapping a length of tp over and under the crotch of your skivvies. Are there other ways to make this? I wondered about that today as I sadly balanced the wad of Kleenex-tp squares in my drawers. I wondered if there is a way to weave them into something stronger, something that resembles and works like Always dry-weave. I wondered if I had used a big enough pile as I drove home. I had. Whew.
After my unfortunate incident, rescued by the tp-nap, I thought, 'I wonder if my daughter knows how to make one of these.' I wonder how loudly she would exlaim and protest if I tried to have that conversation with her. And then I wondered if I would remember to put more REAl hygiene products back in my purse.
Ok, that should have cleared out any of the men-folk. As women, we teach our daughters and granddaughters many things, including crafty-handiwork types of things. My mother taught me how to make cookies, make cute refridgerator magnets out of dough that you bake and paint, and how to braid hair. My grandmother taught me to crochet and embroider, and how to shop a craft fair in an organized fashion. All good lessons. My great grandmother knew how to sew, a skill I grasped only for home-ec classes and then quickly let loose.
There is one home-made item that we should all teach our daughters to create: the "emergency-situation toilet paper feminine hygiene apparatus." Just try to tell me that you have not had to make one of these, and I will call you a liar.
You know what the tp-napkin (tp-nap for short) is, don't lie! You find youself in a situation where your body gives you the signal that you do not have the appropriate garment protection at the moment and are in danger of having a very embarassing moment. You also have the misfortune to be without access to products that would quickly resolve the situation. You try to apply pressure to the area by walking like a penguin to the nearest restroom and fashion the tp-nap to buy you some time until you can find the appropriate feminine hygiene product.
There are a couple of configurations of the tp-napkin, depending on the emergency and the tp available. If you have the misfortune of being in a restroom with those dumb individual squares of tp that come out like Kleenex, you just pull and pull until you have a thick enough pile, balance them precariously on your underwear and pull up. I have never been brave enough to try an extra barrier of these between the underwear and actual jeans or pants for fear that the squares would sneak down the pant leg and escape onto the floor for a truely horrific moment. If you get to a place with real tp roles, then you can do the pile or wad of tp balanced on the underwear, then bound on by wrapping a length of tp over and under the crotch of your skivvies. Are there other ways to make this? I wondered about that today as I sadly balanced the wad of Kleenex-tp squares in my drawers. I wondered if there is a way to weave them into something stronger, something that resembles and works like Always dry-weave. I wondered if I had used a big enough pile as I drove home. I had. Whew.
After my unfortunate incident, rescued by the tp-nap, I thought, 'I wonder if my daughter knows how to make one of these.' I wonder how loudly she would exlaim and protest if I tried to have that conversation with her. And then I wondered if I would remember to put more REAl hygiene products back in my purse.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
And I Run, I Run So Far Away
I went and ran my 7-year-old to dance, then went to the grocery store this morning. As I was walking from the store out to the car I got an odd urge to go for a run. It was about 25 degrees outside, and a little breezy, but not horrid. So, I went home and unloaded the groceries, got on some running gear and headed out the door with my fingerless gloves on and my ears covered, iPod blaring. It felt so good to get outside and jog. Like my body was relieved to break into that pace. That lasted for about four blocks and then my body realized what it was doing and how long it had been since these maneuvers had been performed. To add to things, I had some obstacles of snow and ice to tackle. Then I turned a corner INTO the wind and found myself a mess of tears and snot (gross). I'll be washing those gloves today. I pushed on, though. I made it a mile and a half and now feel like I have been run over by a truck. My lungs were assaulted by the cold and have been coughing out complaints most of the day since. It's a victory, but an odd one, to say the least.
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