Sincerely ,

Not pictured: beer fest with friends.

Just another day at the park. Not pictured-family time. Love that my parents live close.

Dog days of summer

My #birchbox arrived, lots of good stuff!

My #birchbox arrived, lots of good stuff!

You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that’s what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant… oh, fuck it.
The Grand Budapest Hotel

Drinkin on the job for free, came up on some fancy salt and pickles that were left over from the Bloody Mary bar!

Just the way I am.

An older lady took the space next to me at Barre this morning. She mentioned it was her second class so we talked a bit about how she found out about the studio and she said “I came in and saw the ‘Love Your Lower Body’ and thought this is for me. I hate my Lower Body!”. Perhaps in jest, rooted in some truth, but it struck me. My knee jerk reaction was to say ‘No, you’re great why would you feel that way?’ but somehow that didn’t seem appropriate. 

Class started and I couldn’t get this out of my head. I would glance back at the lady from time to time. I should mention this was a good looking older lady, mid to late 60s, in shape. Part of me thinks it’s not work mentioning her size or looks because it’s irrelevant. There is no reason to ‘hate’ your lower body. 

Brilliant advice to an outsider. Meanwhile, I’m stealing glances in the studio mirrors and cursing myself for my body. Every. Single. Day. Rare is the day I look in the mirror and like what I see. 

What struck me most about this was her age. Had it been a peer I would’ve responded automatically with “I hear you girl!” Am I going to go into old age hating myself? When can I let go of this? I guess the stunning part for the whole exchange for me was that the answer could very well be never. That just doesn’t work for me. 

In our more dynamic workout portion of the class the instructor told us to “Expand and break through anything that holds you back”. 

Of course she was talking about moving our leg in an outward motion but I’ll just pretend she wasn’t, because I have to. This has to stop. No more “I’m fat” or “I hate my hips” or “Nothing looks good on me” or worrying about putting a bathing suit. I’m expanding and breaking through anything that holds me back.