How Times Flies...

Don’t you just love days when you have nothing to do?

Oh, you don’t have any of those days?

Yeah, me either.

I love my job. I’ve said that before, right? I love the people I work with, my school, my students…the whole shebang. It’s great.

Here’s what’s killing me. Are you ready?

If you don’t get that reference, we can’t be friends, okay?

But, in all honesty, THERE’S NEVER ANY TIME.

Okay, there’s time to work and eat and sleep…and that’s it. What fun is that?

When do I get to go to the beach or read a book or take a nap?

Those of you who aren’t teachers are totally rolling your eyes at me and shaking your heads. I can hear you muttering the word summer under your breath.

Guess what? I worked then, too.

Actually, I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m just feeling…

Ugh. Look, if Zack Morris says it’s a feeling, it is.

Here's part of the thing: at our teacher in-service we focused on “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People”. It’s actually really interesting when you get down to it. But…that’s hard.

How can I put things into quadrants and prioritize when I want to do all the things?

What are my priorities? How do I map out my week when things change everyday?

Basically: what is my life?

Sadly, I find myself asking that a lot. ;)

My problem isn’t that there isn’t enough time; it’s that I want to do too much!

I can’t imagine what it’s like having a family and trying to prioritize things. (Let’s be firm though, people, this is about me. I mean, there’s a cat and a teenager at my house and they’re both pretty self-sufficient…mostly.)

Again, my problem is that I want too much out of life. Is that so wrong? I want to work, worship, read, watch television, ride a bike, talk to a friend, and, oh yeah, SLEEP.

I love my job.

I guess it’s hard to prioritize when everything seems so important: a school function, a family reunion, church events. It’s not like I think I’m that important, but maybe the things I do are? I know my job is, that’s for sure. I want to "give it all I’ve got" and "be all that I can be" and all that jazz in that aspect, but at the end of the day it’s hard to give more.

That’s where frustration pokes its ugly little head in.

Sometimes I just want the world to stop, just for a little while. I want to take an hour to read a book without a million things on my mind, or watch a movie without feeling guilty that I blew something or someone off to do it. Then I feel guilty for thinking that!

It’s lose-lose and Dr. Covey teaches us to think win-win! (Ha!)  What’s win-win when all you’ve got is twenty-four hours? Where’s my little white rabbit telling me I’m late as I watch my calendar months fly off into the wind?

I’m not worried, I guess. Maybe the busyness makes me feel like I’m serving purpose. Like, if I’m just sitting around my butt then I’m not doing anyone any good and if I’m running my butt off, then maybe my pants will fit a little bit better…hehe.

I guess the point is, sometimes you feel like Jessie Spano on caffeine pills. And sometimes, you don’t need the pills.

A More Beautiful You

I’ve been thinking a lot about body image lately. Not just my own, but others, too. Okay, I’m not just sitting around thinking about your bodies: I’m more thinking along the lines of how others see themselves.

For instance:

How do you feel when you look in the mirror?

What do you think when you try on pants? What if they’re too tight?

Can you run that mile? Are you out of breath jogging to your car in the rain?

Sorry, this isn’t a post to make you feel bad about yourself, I promise!

Actually, my point is how people view themselves differently and what they do differently to fix the things they don’t like.

Oh, and why.

Here’s a question I get sometimes:

Why did you do Weight Watchers?

You know that kind of question where people raise their eyebrows and look you up and down which is supposed to be appraising you but it’s totally making you feel uncomfortable?

I get that sometimes.

Here’s why I did Weight Watchers (or WW, okay?):

I didn’t like myself.

Shocker, right? Sometimes I seem like I’ve got my shit together but in reality, underneath this sarcastic candy shell I’m a big ole’ cream puff with a lot of self esteem issues.

In case you haven’t noticed (if you know me, of course): I’M SHORT.

Yeah, I know guys.

 I. Know.

The tough thing about being short is that when you gain weight it doesn’t really have anywhere to go, so it’s more noticeable. So, for instance, if someone (me) gained THIRTY POUNDS over the course of a year or two, guess what?

People notice.

It only takes one question of: “When are you due?” to make you want to cry into a tub of ice cream and swear to never leave the house again until you fit into those jeans in the bottom of your drawer. (Still hasn’t happened.)

But I digress. This is supposed to be uplifting.

It was almost five years before I actually did something proactive about the weight that I’d gained. By “proactive” I mean “healthy”. I’d used diet pills and lost a good ten or so pounds but nothing more, and found it hard to keep off. It’s tough when you are using something like that and not really changing the way you eat or exercise.

So.

That’s how WW came into play.

I can honestly say it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. When you shed those first two pounds? Man, it feels good. Hit your five pound goal? WOW. Ten? Make your goal? Make lifetime?

It’s amazing. It’s amazing because you’re accountable and you’re healthy and people celebrate you! I was fortunate enough to do the program with friends at work, but when I ventured out to become a lifetime member I got to interact with new people.

The thing is: no one at WW cares that you only lost ____lbs. Even that guy who was almost at one hundred pounds lost thinks you’re awesome!

And you know what? When they feel good for you, you feel good for you.

Isn’t that what we want? To feel good? (Yes.)

I was having a conversation earlier about how those insecurities we feel from high school don’t always go away. I always felt chubby growing up, just because I was smaller. Maybe I wasn’t chubby, but it was always there in the back of my mind that I wasn’t perfect.

Those girls are skinny.

Those girls are tall.

Those girls are pretty.

It doesn’t go away.

Part of me thinks that’s okay, though. The fact that you have those insecurities make you want to better yourself. They make you want to eat healthier or workout more or train for a damn 5K even though running is the absolute bane of your existence.

What I’ve learned in the past two years since changing my lifestyle is that you don’t have to be perfect.

Now, what I mean by that is:  not to be perfect by other people’s standards.

I don’t really care what other people think, to be quite honest: I do this for me.

I’m the one who wants to fit into my pants.

I’m the one who needs to feel confident at the beach.

I’m the one that wants to run those miles and do it with a big smile on my face because I can.

Of course, I’m a firm believer that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Really. All this talking about eating healthy and working out makes me sound like a total Mean Girl. And yeah, maybe I am one of those, but you know who gets the brunt of my Mean Girl attitude?

Me.

I do!

I am my biggest fan and my own worst enemy at the same time. It’s tough, too. It’s tough because people will tell you they are proud of you, or that you look great, or even that “you look like yourself again”, but does it matter? Does it really matter what they think? (Okay, a little.) But for the most part? No. It doesn’t matter what they think because in the back of your head you know you can always do better. You can always look better, feel better, and push yourself harder.

So, that’s scary. It’s scary because you’ll never be satisfied. Never be happy with yourself. You’ll always find a blemish or stretch mark or some cellulite, but that’s okay!

This is me telling myself that it’s okay, if you want to listen, too. J

It’s okay because, again, we aren’t meant to be perfect. We are imperfect creatures and it’s beautiful! Besides, what’s perfect for me might not be perfect for someone else. I’m okay with a little bit of fluff and a slightly perkier ass thanks to six weeks of 5K training. I’m okay with the “skinny-fat” my best friend and I have dubbed ourselves.

 Is there room for improvement? Sure.

Am I going to keep trying? Absolutely.

Do I try my damnedest every day to be a good person on the inside because that’s what should matter?

Well, that one’s always up for argument.

 

Also, here's a little song to make you feel good: