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Healthy Recall: My Plan B

Lawn
Lawn for Lunch

I ate a tub o’ spinach for lunch, topped with some kind of creamy dressing found at work to make it more palatable. About three-quarters of the way through, I was over it. Not only did I feel like a deer eating lawn for lunch, with the exception that I was in a cubicle, but I also just began to physically recoil–which also happens when I read all these healthy resolutions going on (including my own). In response to the recoil, I’m doing a recall, a recall of all things healthy. 

Seriously, I’m over it. I’m going to go all-out backlash now and just INDULGE. Here’s Plan B:

  1. Menu for Dinner: Pasta. Heaps of it, a carbo-vore’s delight. This will be accompanied by a loaf of French bread, globbed with butter, and maybe two glasses of wine.
  2. For Dessert: M&M cookie sandwich (these are easily accessible and already in the freezer #kids).
  3. I will then sit my can on the couch, lobbing my Fitbit across the room with glee, and turn on the tube. I will watch hours of Bravo’s Real Housewives of you-name-it-county while wolfing down cheese Doritos and Chex Snack Mix. I might even pour salt on it, just to make it even more of a health hazard. ‘Cuz I’m then thirsty, I will pour some more wine, or maybe go so far as to have a fat pina colada with tons of milk, just to get as many calories as possible.
  4. I will stay up too late watching You Tube and forget to wash my face and apply any kind of retinol/anti-aging/rip off serum that doesn’t work anyway.

This sounds like an awesome plan!

Oh, and maybe I’ll take up smoking, just ‘cuz I might look like of retro cool and bad ass. And I will wear my skinny jeans like body paint with no shame. I may even go so far as to buy a midriff and let my post-childbearing bod just flail on the loose.

What else can I do? Oh! I will ingest as much bold coffee as I want, and I will pity all gym rats.

Wouldn’t this be fun?!?!?

I love Plan B.

It’s not going to happen, because I’m way too vain, socially conscious, afraid, and self-punitive, but it’s nice to imagine.

It was a fun ride.

What would you do? 

 

 

 

Motivation, Self-Help, Thoughts

When Stillness Stings

I was just reading that we should all find an hour in our day–find it, steal it,  covet it, and make the time for it–to disconnect in some way from our stress and hyper-connectivity. We should seek out a pond, go for a walk, read a book, meet a friend, or actually stop to smell the flowers, as trite as that sounds. In fact, just the other day, I stopped to smell a white hydrangea, and then I noticed that there was a wasp on it. And I thought, “Really? This is what happens when I stop to smell the flowers? I get stung by a wasp?”

And maybe that’s the point! Stay with me here…

Maybe we keep this maniacal pace, filling our days with 40 hour work weeks, kids’ activities and carpools, gym workouts, Facebook postings, and phone swiping just so that we don’t get STUNG by what lurks beneath: what happens when we are still.

nature red flowers yellow
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When we are, emotions surface, thoughts pervade, lists unravel, daydreaming happens. Some of this can be quite positive and inspirational, like the dream of a family camping trip (well, no, scratch that–that sounds miserable and sticky; I’m already itching); or the dream of having a baby or finally mastering the guitar. Conversely, these emerging thoughts can be dark, even scary, such as unease with a friendship or relationship, a lurking sense you may not be living the life you want to live. And you’re stuck. So you keep moving; you connect.

What do we do when we see wasps? We run to avert the sting. We run from it before it gets us, waving our hands around and screaming, like we are on fire. We do this too in relationships, don’t we? We run from them or break up with people before they can break up with us. Or, we disparage ourselves and self-deprecate in front of others (okay, I do), so we can beat them to the punch. I hurt me before you hurt me.

Maybe we should stop and feel the burn, the pain.

I have a healing wasp sting on my wrist right now. It’s small in diameter, about two centimeters, and it’s pink from where I itched off the scab.

Sometimes a scab needs to be itched off to heal.

Doesn’t time heal all wounds? I’m waiting for an answer on that one. But I need to acknowledge these wounds first, in the stillness.

background image beautiful blur bright
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