Filed under: Exercise, Food/Drink, Middle Age, Posts | Tags: adulthood, health, humor, mental health, Middle-Age, new year
New year, new me…blah, blah, blah. I don’t like resolutions because I never stick to them. Last year’s resolutions included:
- Drinking less
- Eating healthier
- Losing 10 pounds
- Stretching
- Start jumping in my horseback riding lessons.
Let’s see…in 2023 here’s how that went:
- I honed my bourbon taste buds, took a trip to Ireland and Scotland and discovered after two weeks of tastings and more liver abuse that I still prefer bourbon
- My eating habits leaned farther to the Oreo and pizza side than veggies and protein; therefore I…
- Gained 10 pounds and went up a size – I am now embracing clothes that actually fit instead of trying to squeeze into jeans like a sausage
- I took a stretching class and managed to irritate already gimpy shoulders because…wait for it…I’m weirdly competitive at stretching – against myself
- I had a couple of concussions from falling off horses – not even jumping.
So, screw the resolutions. But I did come across a couple of ideas that might make more sense.
First, someone asked, “Are you acting like summer in winter?” Meaning, why are you working at life with the same energy in winter that you do in the summer? Traditionally, animals and humans in the age of foraging and farming used winter as a time for resting and saving energy – through hibernation, fixing equipment, making and mending clothes, etc. These days it’s often the only quiet time we get, except for that “retreat” somewhere in a mountain setting which costs and arm and a leg, and half your PTO. Winter is a natural time for a lot of us to reflect, to eat hot, nourishing meals that warm our body and soul, and figure our shit out. So, unless you’re an avid winter person who relishes outdoor cold-weather activities, slow your roll and stop acting like its summer. Sometimes having no agenda is an agenda.
The other thing I thought was a good idea was to change the inner voice that groans at 6:00am, “Fuuuuuck, I have to go to the gym,” to “Fuuuuuck, I get to go to the gym because I can afford it and all of my limbs and faculties work well enough to let me get stronger.” Changing from “I have to” to “I get to” may sound like a bunch of new-age think strategy, but it really does help. However, I swear if any of you hear me say anything about a person’s “journey” you get to punch me in the face.
Filed under: Exercise, Food/Drink, Middle Age, Posts, shopping, Spring Break, Travel | Tags: adulthood, Exercise, fitness, humor, mental health, Middle-Age, travel
Ok, so Imposter Syndrome (see my previous blog) doesn’t just happen in sports – it happens as a parent, and even worse, in the mirror.
I don’t know when exactly that it happened, but at some point I started feeling like an imposter in my own body. I would walk by the mirror and catch a glimpse of some person I didn’t recognize, who now has more gray than blond hair, a less curvy body and wrinkly hands,. Then I’d realize that person is me.
WTF? I would think. That can’t be me. After all, my brain hasn’t changed that much since I was 25. I still think poop jokes are funny, that I can do way more physically than I actually can, and I still laugh inappropriately at funerals. My brain also still thinks I’ve got my 25-year-old body – until I go shopping for a bathing suit. Then, I have to deal with my current “beach body.” (Oh, and if I see one more TikTok with some lithe, 18-year-old worrying about getting “beach body ready,” I’m going to…ok, I’m just going to swipe up again in a really, really irritated way.)
Here’s the truth, though: no one else on the beach gives a shit that I didn’t lose those extra 10 pounds, or didn’t go to the gym an extra session a week so I could have a flat stomach.
NO ONE.
And even if they did notice or care, they sure as hell don’t know my body’s story, that the lines on my face are laugh lines and worry lines from years of soccer games, horse shows and family vacations, or that my stomach, with it’s new shape and distribution, housed two other human beings and somehow still supports my spine so I can work at my computer to pay bills.
Appreciate the story your body has to tell. Nobody wants a story that has no plot, no twists and turns, no growth for the main character. Those stories are boring. Be your favorite story and embrace the cover.
Filed under: Exercise, Misc. Humor, Posts, shopping | Tags: adulthood, clothing, fashion, humor, shopping
I have a solution to cut some emissions by limiting clothing return costs.
I’m tired of trying to figure out what size I am when buying clothes online. When clothing sites show me diagrams and ask if I’m apple shaped or pear shaped, rectangular or hourglass (who still uses one of those, anyway?), I have no idea which box to check.
How about asking if I’m chair-shaped? Because that’s probably more accurate. I sit in a chair for eight hours a day, then sit on the couch watching tv.
I think consumers would be better off if companies asked you what body issues you deal with – are your arms too long? Too short? Not fitting into sleeves the circumference of a paper towel roll? Does your stomach currently hang over your pants or is it still managing to hide behind your waistband? Is your waist small but your hips look like they could squeeze out a watermelon at a moment’s notice? Are your boobs playing permanent hide-and-seek or are they announcing to the world that they exist and then moving around all on their own? Are your love handles showing beneath your shirt? Are your man-boobs letting the world know what temperature it is?
If companies asked these kinds of sizing questions, we might have more success and cut our return shipping costs in half, thus helping to SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT.
I think office clothing should be described in catalogs by the kind of office job you do:
- Casual work-from-home, not client-facing, sits in chair 8-12 hours a day but has to pee a lot and has a sore neck from squinting at the laptop screen. You would most likely get joggers (comfortable, easy to get on and off), a collared work shirt or blouse with a secret heating pad built into the neckline because your neck is tired from jutting forward, and because people only see you from the waist up.
- In the office, client-facing, has hot flashes or works in office space with badly controlled heating/cooling systems. Non-wrinkle suit or tailored skirt and blouse (also with hidden heated/cooling neck pad). Secret pocket for stress ball or fidget or tiny voodoo doll of boss.
Even if you don’t work in an office the same types of “issue” questions would still apply.
Or, better yet, you should be able to dress for the job you actually WANT to do. For some of you, that may mean dressing like a CEO, which is what we were all taught to do (“Dress for the job you want”). For many of us, it would make coming into work so much more interesting, like Halloween every day, and you get to guess what the other person’s real dreams are/were.
For example, I would love to be a successful author who sits by the pool with a glass of wine contemplating the next chapter of my novel. Or, my job would be to hike and take equestrian vacations, writing travel blogs and articles. If you wanted to be a firefighter, you could wear the whole outfit, or just the mask. Same for a scuba diver. Pirate? That would be awesome!
Professional poker player? Fighter jet pilot? Spy? The options are endless – and don’t just limit yourself to just one occupational outfit. Life is full of options, and your “dream” wardrobe choices should be too.
In the meantime, until the professional world allows us the freedom to dress for the jobs we REALLY wanted, let’s just see if companies can come up with something a little better than asking what fruit we look like.
Filed under: Country Living, Exercise, Middle Age, Posts, Sports | Tags: fear, Horses, humor, mental health, stress
Since I posted the blog What’s Your Dream?, which Life clearly read and had a good laugh, things have gone slightly sideways. Now I’m having to eat my own cooking.
In that other blog I profoundly (I thought) said:
Whatever your dreams once were, don’t let them go entirely – find out what parts of those dreams you can still do, or how they might work in new ways for you. Life is short and unpredictable.
Of course Life is unpredictable. That can make it really fun…and then sometimes it can be a pain in the ass…literally.
For a quick recap: I had just revised my dream of owning and riding horses in horse shows to one of riding purely for mental and physical health. Just when I was finally feeling like I was getting stronger as a rider and able to work on details instead of just building muscle, I did what you’re never supposed to do – I got cocky and relaxed.
I forgot that you can ride for your mental health in a field, with a montage in your head of riding like the Elves in Lord of the Rings through buttercups and swaying grasses; but, you cannot EVER forget that you have a 900-lb animal under you who also has opinions. Long story short, as I was walking my horse, she spooked at something, and off I went. (Spooking means jumping sideways because there’s a troll or something equally scary nearby.)
Had I been paying attention and sitting the way you’re supposed to, I would have been just fine. Instead, I slid off like the frog in that Family Guy episode – you know, where he’s trying to scrape it up and throw it out the window?
I hit my lower back and then the back of my head (yes, I had a helmet on). One concussion and a spectacular bruise later, I am revising my dreams – again.
The truth? I was scared to get back on – not scared of the horse, but of the pain and inconvenience of falling and doing more damage. It took a month for me to ride again. The first day I went out to get the horse I had fallen from so I could get on her again, my energy must have been negative, to say the least. I’ve heard horses can hear your heartbeat from 14 feet away. Well, she must have heard mine because she took one look at me, nodded to her sister in the field and walked away.
“Absolutely not,” she said very clearly.
The ride went fine, and with the jitters pretty much gone the next time I went to get her, she walked right up. Horses can be great teachers, if you’re willing to listen.
Apparently, Life thought I needed to be reminded that riding for mental health includes retaining focus and positive energy.
It’s not just what you take from the experience but what you bring to it.
30 years ago, I would have gotten right back on, the Hell with what the doctors said. Now I’m seeing my chiropractor (thanks Dr. Carlsen!), sitting at my desk with ice packs, stretching and doing yoga poses to get comfortable. (When did I become this person???) I’m still going to be riding for my mental and physical health for as long as I possibly can. In fact, I asked each doctor I saw when I could ride again, and I swear each of them said a version of “What’s wrong with you horse people?” (So much – but that’s another blog.)
Revising your dreams doesn’t mean diminishing them. Sometimes it just means changing the direction from which you approach.
Filed under: Exercise, Misc. Humor | Tags: clothing, Exercise, fashion, humor, pilates
I am a person who is weird about being on time. I get stressed out when I’m not, and other “Laties” stress me out too. So when I was late to my Pilates class, it did not go well.
A few weeks ago, I knew I was going to be cutting it close to get to the studio on time. I would need to bring regular leggings, a sports bra and a tank top to class, and change when I got there.
I remembered it all, but instead of regular leggings I grabbed my biker short-length leggings, which are pretty much just Spanx without any of the benefits. I bought them because I was anticipating the studio being too hot in July. I also mistakenly packed a tight, black tank top, not my usual flowy top that hides….a lot.
So there I was, skidding into the gym like I was ten on my dirt bike after landing a perfect jump. I changed my clothes in the mirrorless bathroom and joined the class. However, when I got to my station and looked into the mirror…OH…MY…GOD.
Black is supposed to be slimming.
Staring back at me was a Teletubby in mourning.
The biker shorts squished all the doughy bits up to my waist and out the bottom to my knees. My body looked like someone had grabbed a tube of Jimmy Dean sausage, cut the ends off and squeezed from the middle.
So, I decided I would ignore it and that was fine, until about half-way through class when I saw it…the camel toe. Friends, there’s no discreet way to fix that in a room full of people and mirrors. I hopped into the bathroom again and tried to fix it, but I knew it was a lost cause. I have a long torso and the shorts were (apparently) not long enough. It re-appeared and stayed for the rest of class.
What’s the big deal, you ask? Isn’t it a class full of women? C’mon, people. You know we’re all super judgy, even though we say we aren’t. And if it’s just me that’s judgy like that, well, rest assured that Karma’s a real thing and she’s a bitch.
But it didn’t end there. Being thrifty, I tend to get my workout clothes at discount or “cost-efficient” stores. I think these shorts came from Old Navy. Anyway, as I was huffing and puffing during the workout, I started to smell something.
How was the scent of chicken nuggets wafting into the Pilates studio? There isn’t a Chick-Fil-A anywhere nearby.
No…it can’t be…
It was my f#$%ing biker shorts! How could they do that? I knew it wasn’t me because after class I ran back into the bathroom and did a smell check – it was definitely the shorts. And yes, I washed them before I put them on.
So to recap, because I was late, I looked like a sad, squished sausage and smelled like fast food.
Basically, I was a giant dog treat.
So that’s why I try to be on time.
Subourbon Mom 