Before you start that diet…

I hate eating lunch with my female coworkers because they complain too much. Here’s usually how it goes, I settle down ready to grub on last night’s BBQ chicken thighs (Pioneer Woman-YOU’RE WELCOME) and just as I’m about to stuff a forkful of microwaved chicken into my mouth, the woman in front of me lets out a big sigh and proclaims “I seriously need to get back on a diet” before taking a bite of a FOOTLONG MEATBALL PARM SUB. The rest will sigh along with her, murmur (in agreement? “You’re right Deborah, you’re fucking fat”) before chiming in with their own woes.

“I ate like a horse during the holidays!”

“I think I ATE a horse!”

“I had horseshoes nailed to the bottom of my feet, strapped a carriage to my back, and started charging people $20 for a ride through the park. That’s how much of an obese monster I am”

Okay I made the last one up, but you get the idea. The point is why do we do this to ourselves? Why is it that one of the few ways we, as women, bond together involves the mutual hate of our own bodies? Why are you using your insecurities as a conversation starter? Cut that shit out, dude. Stop it right now. Seriously. I’m just trying to eat my damn chicken before my 30 minutes are up and I have to go clock back in.

Unfortunately, this bullshit doesn’t stay in the lunchroom. Our department has a candy dish, so we get all types of foot traffic at 2 p.m. right before that “afternoon crash.” There is one woman who comes by every single day. And every single day she chants to herself “just one piece. Just one tiny piece.” I tell her that she looks like she needs it and she snaps back “I DON’T NEED IT. I’m on the Military Diet right now, and I really shouldn’t!”

Homegirl, you shouldn’t BUT YOU DID. YOU DO EVERY SINGLE TIME and don’t even try to play me because I see that pile of Hershey’s kisses in the other hand, you’re only fooling yourself.

By the way, do you guys know about The Military Diet? I don’t know much other than it involving cans of tuna. Like not as one of many ingredients but an entire meal. I supposed The Military Diet is effective in that the thought of it makes me want barf and doing so would make me lose at least a pound or two.

Anyways, this woman’s style consists of high-waisted tight pants with sparkly cinch belts and thigh high boots. She’s got a Jamie Lee Curtis in True Lies hairstyle going on and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear the same jewelry twice. All of this and she’s old enough to be my mother. This bitch is fuckin’ killin’ it. I only wish she knew it too.

I have another coworker who is the same age as me, the few lunches we’ve had together always end in her debating on whether or not she should buy some mini donuts from the vending machine (spoiler alert: She always does.)

These women are always on some sort of diet/workout routine (you know because they will ALWAYS TELL YOU)  and I don’t get it because I think they both look fantastic, but that’s a post for another day.

The point is, you are never going to take care of something that you hate. It’s true for my cat* and true for your body. Why would you feel compelled to be good to your body, if the only things you have to say about it are how much you wish it were different?

You will jump from diet to diet for the rest of your life and we will bury your ass with your Lean Cuisines and your cayenne pepper lemon juice and your pot of cabbage soup and your Weight Watchers points counter before you will ever get the body you want.

So before you embark on your new lifestyle change, learn to love the place you’re in now. If you don’t know how, start off every morning by giving yourself a compliment in the mirror before you jump in the shower. Some days will feel truer than others, but eventually you’ll start to believe yourself every single time.

eat-your-lettuce-and-be-sad

If you are trying to lose weight and you are any of the following

  1. Starving
  2. Crying over the boiled chicken and grass you have to eat
  3. Shitting uncontrollably
  4. All of the above

YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG. STOP IT NOW.

And for the love of God, eat the fuckin’ chocolate. Eat the stale donuts in the vending machine. Eat some birthday cake. Shit, eat the entire cake. I don’t give a fuck. I only ask that you not feel guilty afterwards. Food is supposed to be enjoyed; it’s not your enemy. The only cheat meals not allowed are the ones where you hate yourself afterwards.

Be kind to you. Be kind to your body and it will return the favor.

*I’m just kidding. About not taking care of him. I really do hate him.

 

 

 

 

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Are you content?

When I was in elementary school, I often daydreamed what middle school was going to be like and how I would do my hair, the clothes I would wear, and how I was going to do my makeup as soon as my mom let me wear it. Middle school rolled around and it wasn’t at all what I had planned in my head, I didn’t wear all the cool outfits and I didn’t own nearly enough hair baubles to have my hair like Lizzie McGuire’s (sigh) I was fine with this because everything would DEFINITELY get better once  I got to high school.

Except, high school came up and the same thing happened. It wasn’t what I had created in my daydreams but it was fine because once I graduated and started college I would, no doubt, be in a better place. Surprise! I graduated and then…nothing happened. From college, to working, to getting married and moving across the country, I’ve realized that most of my life I’ve been waiting for the next stage convincing myself  that I will be much happier in it.

This is not to say my life has been unrewarding, I have had the privilege to do amazing things with amazing people throughout my short 23 years. However, it seems more often than not I have sat around waiting for life to happen instead of making it happen for myself.

Which brings me to my question, are you content? It’s a tough question to confront, for myself at least. I’m definitely not unhappy, I just married my best friend-a man who  I wasn’t looking for but somehow landed in my life (that’s a post for a different day!) We have our own little nest, and a dog and cat to boot. It could almost be a sitcom.

My hesitation with answering “Yes, I am content” has nothing to do with my husband or our life together or my family. It’s an internal struggle; I feel like I finally know why I have always been waiting for the next stage in my life. I’m unhappy with myself. I’m unhappy with how I treat myself, I’m unhappy that I am capable and I am smart and yet  I feel unfulfilled. I’m unhappy because I have several decent talents and still haven’t found what something I’m passionate about. I have never written or spoken those words before.

I started writing my blog as a promise to myself to push myself out of my comfort zone and to try things I always wanted to but never did. This is my first step, and it feels good.

Now I have to ask you, are you content?

unrelated: this is my inaugral post on BlogHer, I am proud of myself!

Hello world (and by world I mean myself)

I’ve been wanting to start a blog for a while now & never made it a point to, or I started, wrote one post and now it’s in an internet graveyard (RIP) but new things have happened in my life and I want some sort of way to document them. I also promised myself that I would try something new in 2015.

I’ve often found myself unhappy well…with my own self. It’s frustrating to know your own potential and yet not find that motivation and push within yourself to do the things you dream so much of doing. Honestly, I really have no one to blame but me. I guess you could say that I’m having a premature quarter life crisis. My mind is full of dreams and self doubt. I’m still not entirely sure what I’d like to do with the rest of my life. I mean, I know I would like to be happy and feel fulfilled and help others do the same but I haven’t worked out how exactly I’m going to do that. I’m 23, almost 24 I really thought I’d have this shit figured out! I’m certainly not where I thought I would be in high school. Now I feel even more pressure as a newlywed. I struggle with who I am as a woman and now I have to figure out who I am as a wife!

Did I miss some womanhood meeting (wouldn’t surprise me) or are some of you just really good at pretending?! (if so, tell me your secrets!)

So I’d like to brand this a safe, open space, a space to share your biggest dreams and deepest fears.  A  space to rejoice in victories and find comfort in failures. A space to experiment, play, laugh and grow.

 

I don’t know if anyone else will ever read this, but if nothing else, this space is for me.

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