searching for answers.

It's no secret that even our country's toughest leaders have shed tears in the aftermath of the tragic Sandy Hook shooting. First responders, police officers, political leaders and parents (who, even at age 26, I still believe are some our country's strongest leaders) were photographed in tears, hugging one another, embracing loved ones and hoping that the next hug, the next tear, or the next grief-stricken moment would provide some kind of clarity on how something like this could ever happen. Rob and I sat on the couch Friday night in the dark, watching the constant coverage before I finally burst into tears. It's just too much, I thought. I don't even know these people, and I never will, but I somehow feel so emotionally charged and connected to them right now and I have no idea why.

The obvious answer is because these victims are children. These are the kids who had the lemonade stand at the corner house all summer, the girl who sold you girl scout cookies, and the boy who just learned to ride his bike without training wheels. These are the kids who put cookies out for Santa, who believe there are elves hiding in the school tree that know if they've been naughty or nice in the halls (a brilliant line my best friend and excellent kindergarten teacher came up with for her classroom). These are kids who will now never have first kisses or dates, never walk down the aisle and say "I do," never have the chance to become the next president, an astronaut or teacher. These are parents - some my own age - who are grasping at nothing in the air, trying to make sense out of how they can send their child to school in the morning and go Christmas shopping for that child all day and now wonder what they're going to do with those wrapped presents stowed away in the back of the closet. This is us - you and me - our kids, our neighbors, our families.

And I know this isn't the first time something like this has destroyed a community. This isn't the first time we've been shocked to turn our televisions and see innocent people gunned down in schools, in movie theaters and malls across America. So why is it hitting so close to home this time? Is it just because they're kids? Is it because we, as Americans, have had enough? Is it because it's so close to the holidays, and we've heard stories from teachers and other survivors about how these kids were crying, saying they just wanted to have Christmas?

I should probably note that I am not directly affected by this horrible incident. No one I know was hurt, killed or suffered as a result of this selfish boy's actions. And I'm no expert. I have no psychology degree, no statistics of what access to guns can do or what the lack of access to mental health resources can lead to. I'm you. I'm the girl who was sitting at the office and happened to open up Yahoo and see very few details about a shooting at an elementary school on the east coast. I am the one who was glued to the television all night, who called friends and family and talked about how horrible it was that this could have happened. I'm the one who went home and hugged my dogs and my fiance, just like everyone else did. Just like every other person in this country, I am looking for answers, for understanding, and I am hurting more for these people and these families than I've ever hurt for any other tragedy in this country. I don't know all the details on the shooter's mental health, or the stability of his family or his access to guns (other than that his mother had several), and I really have no desire to argue a political agenda.

But as a person with a beating heart, who loves the hell out of my family, my friends, my dogs and wants nothing but the same for everyone else, I am distraught. I can't begin to imagine what the parents of those children are feeling, but I do know that this massacre has shattered not only their sense of safety, but the rest of ours as well. I can't understand why anyone would ever look towards murder as a way to solve life's problems, but I can at least put my mind around a high school kid getting pissed off enough about being bullied, cheated on by his girlfriend or wronged by the jerks on the football team enough to seek retaliation. It doesn't make it right, but to a society so immune to violence and revenge, the logic behind something horrible like that at least makes sense to us on some level. But this doesn't.

These are our kids. These are our nieces and nephews, these are teachers we graduated with who spend 90% of their time awake making lesson plans for five and six year old kids who then go home every day and tell Mom and Dad what they did at school today. This wasn't my neighborhood, but it could have been. This wasn't my best friend's school, but it could have been. Everywhere today, there are students nervous to go to school, there are parents who struggle to find the appropriate explanation for their first grader, there are teachers on edge to see police officers roaming the halls, and there are grieving parents, brothers, sisters and families. But there are also millions of Americans whose sense of safety has been shattered. This kid (and yes, he was a kid), broke into our lives and stole our sense of stability. He made the "it won't happen to me" possible for the rest of us, and parents across the country are wishing they didn't have to send their children to school today. He made me spend my weekend always looking around the corner, startled at loud conversation or crying kids in stores in the mall, and made me prepare, as I made the long trek out to my car at the mall on Saturday, what I'd do if for whatever reason I found myself in a similar situation.

The Sandy Hook shooting broke into our lives during the most wonderful time of the year and tried to steal what was left of our sense of humanity (as if rude holiday shoppers hadn't shattered it enough). But despite all that, and despite the 15 minutes of fame that the God forsaken media is giving him, he's also sparked something else in us: conversation. Conversation about mental health, something that's been brushed under the rug and pushed to the outskirts of society for decades. Conversation about the importance of listening to our teachers, following rules and the importance of saying, "I love you." Across the country, students are bringing in cards to their teachers with notes of appreciation, and tired teachers want nothing more than to hug each and every one of their students and remind them how important they are.

It's not perfect. And the bad outweighs the good, without any doubt. But for one second, we've started a conversation about one of the most taboo things in the country: mental health. We've put aside our political viewpoints on taxes and the fiscal cliff and have come together as a country in mourning. And we've remembered, once again, how important our educators are, how important our children are, and how desperately necessary it is to preserve hope, life and education in the lives of the people who will one day be in charge of this country. My heart hurts. I don't understand it, and I so desperately want to. But I know I never will, and I know that the families of those affected will struggle harder and longer than I can even imagine. So I will do the only thing I can do: pray, and send a Christmas card to the elementary school.

the feel-good experiment.

I am a slave to the scale. I mean, really. I'm not the crazy who weighs myself morning, noon and night. But I'm definitely a daily weigher. I tell myself it's because I like to see how what I eat affects my body, and weighing myself each morning is a good reminder of what behavior I need to be on every day. But really, let's face it - all it does is make me batshit crazy.

I ate out a lot this weekend. But I also spent equal time working out, and I made pretty smart decisions (those of you who knew me in 2010 will be shocked to know that I turned down Bad Juans Saturday night in exchange for water. I KNOW). Feeling confident about my weekend, I stepped on the scale to see the proof of my hard work.

OH WAIT. That's right. If you'd like to actually meet someone who found a way to gain almost 5 pounds in one weekend, allow me to introduce myself.

Mood: Shitty
Dreams: Crushed

All other healthy choices made over the course of the weekend: Forgotten

Funny how that works. And I know I didn't gain 5 pounds in two days. I know weighing yourself daily is BAD. So, I'm going to do an experiment. Every day this week (starting today, because I weighed myself this morning), I'm going to post 5 things I did each day to stay healthy, avoid temptations and stick to my plan. And I'm not going to weigh myself every day. My official weigh in day is Thursday, so that part will stick - but regardless of what the scale says, I'm going to be able to look back this week and see everything I did to feel good, be healthy and be a great version of me. 

1. I stuck to veggies and lean protein for my snacks today. Green beans get really old, but it's worth it.

2. I first corrected what my mind thought was hunger by drinking tons of water. Guess what? It works.

3. I ran an extra quarter of a mile on top of the workout I had already planned and completed. It's not a lot, but I surpassed my expectations.

4. I planned and prepared a healthy dinner tonight, ate small portions and actually listened to my stomach when I was satisfied.

5. I am now successfully holding the plank for the entire duration of the exercise in my Monday night weights class, and tonight I also did the "extras" she threw in to the plank to amp it up. Damn straight.

We'll see if this works. If nothing else, it's a great way to wrap up the day and refocus for tomorrow.

the greasy truth.

A group of girls goes out to a restaurant to catch up over dinner and drinks. One girl orders pasta with grilled chicken and alfredo sauce, with the most delicious side of cheesy garlic bread your fancy little eyes have ever seen. A couple of the other girls split an appetizer platter that consists of mozzarella sticks, potato skins, buffalo wings and nachos. Margaritas are had, beers are drank, and everyone cheers to a great evening over long island ice teas. No one thinks twice, right?

Now, imagine this: a family gets together for someone's birthday celebration and decides to order pizza. Someone in your family brings over a small salad or shake and eats/drinks it while everyone enjoys pizza. This person tells stories, partakes in the day's events, takes a small bite of birthday cake and gives the birthday kid his present. Chances are, you've been around someone who has done this - drank a shake as a meal, brought their own salad or healthy meal and chose not to eat what everyone else was eating. Chances are, you've also made a comment about it, or heard one made. "So you...don't eat? You drink your meals?" "Oh come on, you can have a few pieces of pizza..it's not going to kill you!" "Why don't you just eat the pizza and then work out afterward?"

Here's the bottom line: The first scenario consists of people consuming probably twice their daily limit of calories in one meal, and no one thinks twice about it. But make a decision to lose weight and stick to it, even if that means you're bringing your shake/salad/meal supplement to a family dinner and awkwardly blend your banana and almond milk together with your protein powder while everyone else's fingers are dripping in pizza grease, and people are all over your ass. Why is our society so okay with watching one another completely destroy our health with greasy food, sugars and carbs? Why is the negative stigma on the girl who is drinking a shake as a meal supplement instead of the girl who ate an entire appetizer platter by herself?

Before you start jumping my ass, let me tell you that I've been both those girls. I've consumed the appetizer platter (and then some), and no one said a word. I've also recently started using a shake to supplement two meals out of my day, and I've been on the receiving end of the "so you're drinking your meals now, and not eating real food?" comments. And let me tell YOU something: both are total bullshit.

My co-worker and I are both trying a new approach to weight loss, and were recently discussing how drinking a shake while everyone else eats 800 calories of pasta draws more negative attention than the notorious "fiscal cliff." I'm not going into the science and nutrition behind using shakes as meal replacements (if you trust me and my knowledge on my health, nutrition and fitness, you'll happily shut the hell up while I tell you, "I got this"), but what I can't figure out is why we're the bad guys. Why, when we care so much about our loved ones and friends' health, are we not placing the negative stereotype on the oversized portions, the added butters, the excess carbs? 

Now please don't get me wrong. I am not at all saying that anyone who is eating healthy is better than someone who isn't. What I'm saying is that as a society, we've become so accepting of things that are horrible for us. We've allowed deep fried Twinkies (RIP, Hostess) and the massive portions at Cheesecake Factory to take precedent over blood pressure and cholesterol. And I get it - everyone's entitled to a little of the bad. Trust me, I've spent the greater portion of my life soaking up the bad, and I'm paying for it now as I bust serious ass to try and fit into a wedding dress. But why, for the love of God, do we harp on the people who turn in early for the night so they can get in their morning run? Why do we hassle the girl who brings her portable little blender on vacation so she can try to stay healthy on the road? Why do we try to talk our friend out of hitting the gym so they can hit happy hour with us instead? 

Why isn't society applauding their willpower and determination? Are we jealous? I know I was. I know I made seriously heinous comments to my mother, who insisted on eating egg beaters for dinner while I scarfed down two plates of lasagna, about how she ought to be able to enjoy the lasagna and eating eggs wasn't worth it. I know I've made completely irrational judgments on people who drink shakes as a meal replacement, or who religiously ran an appropriate number of miles to make up for their crazy night out (I am now this crazy person, too). And I know I felt and acted that way because deep down, I was jealous that I didn't have that willpower yet. I was mad at myself for being overweight, for not exercising, for not taking accountability for my health. Because going out with friends and ordering the giant bowl of pasta is easy. No one says anything. No one makes fun of you, or gives you shit about how you don't need to lose any weight (deep down, we know they're all thinking you do). 

But here's the truth: We don't know people's struggles. We don't know that the girl who has the willpower to say no to eating out will go home and relish in that mental strength for the next 24 hours. We don't know that the guy who orders grilled chicken while the other guys order pizza is determined to look great for his wedding. We don't know that the girl who chooses to have a shake instead of participating in the office carryout order has a dinner that night that she's been excited to attend for a week and is saving the bulk of her calories for it. 

It's the same way we don't know that the girl who just devoured an entire plate of fried macaroni and cheese from Cheesecake Factory was at the gym for two hours knowing full well she wanted to earn that plate of deep fried goodness. That's the bottom line: we just don't know. So why are we so quick to judge? Why are we so quick to outcast someone based on their food or exercise choices? Our society has made it complete hell on someone trying to take on a new healthy lifestyle. Chain restaurants, ice cream stores, festivals and fairs and inexpensive prices on processed foods have made it virtually impossible to take on "healthy" without jumping through at least 6,000 rings of fire.

You can find your niche. You can find your routine, surround yourself with the right people, and get support from the people who mean the most to you, but our society has a long way to go before healthy is "cool." And I'll be honest, I need horrible chain restaurants and deep fried bar food in my life. If mozzarella sticks became obsolete, I would be the first to admit that I'd probably need therapy. All I really want is for being healthy and trying to lose weight to become a less frightening topic to breach with society. I want health, nutrition and fitness to not be so taboo, and for education on it to be approachable and realistic for everyone. I want people to understand that I do eat (all day in fact) even though I'm using shakes to supplement two meals out of my day. 

And really, what I want more than anything else in the world is for people to stop caring so much about what I do or do not eat, and more about what they're doing to be the best person they can be. And if we can get to that point in society, then we probably won't need the People of Walmart website anymore.

what i'd tell myself at 16.

Rob once told me that time is like a big pie (us, comparing things to food - shocking, I know). If your age is relative to the number of pieces of pie, that's how big a year seems to us. So, if a pie has four pieces to represent your four years of age, each year seems huge - time is so new to us, and the ten minute trip to my grandparents' house as a kid seemed like an eternity. Now, at 26, the pieces of pie keep getting smaller. A year flies by in the blink of an eye, and I crave an extra few minutes in my car to enjoy some good music and a little peace and quiet before I'm on to the next adventure. Rob and I are wedding planning for potential dates in 2014 - and to say it out loud seems like we'll never get there (I keep thinking we'd have to pass through TWO more Christmases before we get married, which seems totally unbearable). But I already know that time will fly by too. Our blissful, kid-on-Christmas engagement will be over before I know it. 

I started thinking about how much my life has changed - not just in the past few years, but over the last decade. To say I'm experienced at life would be total arrogance on my part. There's much to be learned, places I haven't seen, people I have yet to meet and trials and tribulations I have yet to experience. But damn, I wish I could reach back, grab my 16 year old self by the shoulders, shake her into submission and tell her it's going to be okay. At 16, you think you know everything (this is also common at 18, 21, and probably now as well), but you're really so green to the world and you don't even know it. You're so caught up in the boy of the moment, your monster of a teacher, your less-than-fair parents and that bitch who keeps giving you snide looks in second period. If I could, with all of my 26 year old wisdom and knowledge, tell my 16 year old self anything, I'd tell her:

Stop skimming through the cliff notes of all the books you have to read in English. One day, you'll wish you'd spent more time reading the classics and less time watching the Real World and TRL. Also, do not draw on your books. It's not cool, and you'll regret it later when you open up a copy of Catcher In the Rye and there are doodles of hearts and a boy's name in it.

Stop hating your pain-in-the-ass teachers. You'll eventually go to college, work with other kids and other communities and learn that you were so insanely lucky to have such a fabulous school district with the standards that would eventually put you light years ahead of kids who weren't as fortunate as you.

Give your parents some credit. You will look back with disgust at some of the things you did growing up, and you'll understand why your parents tried to deter you from doing them. Blue glittery lipstick is not cool, and neither were JNCO jeans, or liking Limp Bizkit. While slightly over the top, they were probably right to disapprove of you watching that much MTV, listening to 94.5 FM "The Beat" and sneaking out of the house. One day, you'll never want to leave your house, and especially not to walk the streets in the middle of the night "for fun."

One day, you will read a series of books so great that it will completely change the way you feel about literature. So if the classics aren't cutting it for you, please don't despair. JK Rowling will provide you with an entire second world to live in, as well as the best set of accompanying movies anyone will ever make. Then someone else will come along and create a series about vampires that everyone tries to compare to this fabulous series you love, and you will spend the rest of your days arguing with the non-understanders why the vampire series should never even be uttered in the same breath as your magical seven books. Shun the nonbelievers. There's nothing wrong with magic.

Love every minute of every relationship you ever have. If you don't, it'll never lead you to the one that matters. Don't listen to people who think they can tell you how to live your life, and certainly don't bend or shape your decisions to please the people around you. People will disapprove of so many choices you make, but this is your party, not their's. Drink the extra beer, take the extra shot, say yes more, meet new people and don't stop hanging out in a bar just because someone else says you ought to. 

Understand how to treat your body. Everything gets harder the older you get, and please don't think that "dieting" means eating lettuce and chicken all day every day for the rest of your life. Exercise doesn't have to be awful, nor does eating healthy. Educate yourself, compromise, compensate and most of all, find a healthy way to live that you actually enjoy. And please do not wait until your 20s to lose weight. Your 26 year old self will hate you for it.

Don't be scared to explore your passions in college. You don't have to always do what you're "supposed to do." Be willing to take a risk, go after what you want and don't let insecurity trick you into thinking you're not good enough. The world is full of people just waiting to tell you they're better than you - and that's only bad if you believe them.

Don't always listen to your parents. They mean well, but they're also just trying to protect you from what they see as evils and all things inappropriate and unnecessary. Having their voice in the back of your head is probably a good thing, but know when to turn it off. Chances are, they've probably experienced much more than you did and know which of those experiences they'd like their children to have - but honestly, the fun ones are probably the ones they're hiding from you.

Listen to your parents. I know, I'm such a liar. But really. In the big, grand scheme of this thing called life, you really ought to trust them. If they don't like your boyfriend, chances are he's a big douchebag. If they tell you to wait until after college to get a dog, there may be some logic to that notion. You will spend the early part of your adult life desperately trying to get away from their opinions and judgment, and then there will come a time where you don't know how to function without it. One day, you'll want their opinions, blindly trust their judgment and consider them the source of all things holy. 

Enjoy your friends. The older you get, the harder it is to make time for the things you used to take for granted. Friends grow up, grow apart, get married, and have babies. Before you know it, you'll be planning dinners two weeks out, planning for girls' weekends months in advance and wishing it were as simple as riding your bike down the street and spending 8 hours playing outside with the entire neighborhood. 

Learn how to save and budget your money. The small paychecks or allowance you get is easily blown on ice cream and Steak'n'Shake nights after the football game, but your ability to budget $20 will go a long way when you're 26. 

Always remember the sports or activities your high school was known for - they will come in extremely handy if you end up marrying someone from a rival school. Luckily, I'm always able to play the "we have an awesome marching band" card - unfortunately, Rob feels this is irrelevant to the ONE game his school won against mine in football.

There's so much to learn. There's so much to experience - and I standing right on the edge, about to dive head first into a brand new thing called marriage (which I feel like, unfortunately, officially makes me an adult), but I already feel like I've learned so much. Thanks, Mom and Dad, I guess this means you did a good job? (but you obviously already knew that!) 

losing weight sucks.

Let me preface this by saying that this entire post is inspired by the fact that my fiance is eating a giant bowl of ice cream and butterfinger cake, topped with hot fudge and caramel sauce. YEAH. I know, right?

Losing weight sucks. I mean, I know that's obvious, but it is seriously the hardest, most tedious, difficult thing I think I'll ever do in my entire life (maybe second to tolerating my own potential future children). I've talked about weight loss and getting healthy before, but the fact that I'm still here talking about it is proof that a) I'm not there yet and b) it's the most consuming thing in this entire world.

I'm not really sure how I made it so many years being so blissfully ignorant of what I ate and what activity I did. Trust me, I was acutely aware that I was overweight as a kid and a teenager (thanks, mean kids and boys for pointing that out for all those years), but since I've been overweight my entire life, it never really registered with me that I was causing it on my own. Deep down, I knew I was though. When I got my shit in line in early 2009, I easily dropped a considerable amount of weight using Weight Watchers and simply tracking points - and running. After gaining most of it back during a wonderful drinking stint that lasted a good 1.5 years, I quickly learned that it wasn't going to fall off like it did the first time.

Through extensive experimentation (and frequent Chipotle visits), I eventually learned that cutting carbs was my ticket. This, in combination with tracking on Weight Watchers and some serious strength training, zumba and running, has allowed me to lose about 25 pounds since January. Yes, it's taken me that long. It's a slow process, and honestly, it's grueling. I talk a lot about what a struggle this is with other people also struggling to lose weight - and yeah, it's super fun to post before and after pictures for everyone to see, but deep down - this is the shit that drives me up a wall:

I plan every single dinner out for the week on Sundays. I menu plan, plan certain meals according to when I weigh in, according to points I have for the day/week, according to exercise plans. I break down meals by ingredients, shop only for these things and make sure to stock the house with healthy breakfast and lunch options so I'm not tempted to eat fast food or eat out. Yes, some of this is to help us save money at the grocery store, but a lot of it is because I know that if I don't have a meal readily available, I will 100% use it as an excuse to go eat a giant basket of boneless wings.

I panic if I leave my morning or afternoon snacks at home. What in God's name am I going to do at 10:30 a.m. when it's "banana time"and I've left my trusty banana sitting on the kitchen counter? I've obviously trained myself to eat every 2.5 hours, so the donuts in the office kitchen suddenly become so much more apparent when I've failed to plan. Same with afternoon "apple time," which I appropriately rename "cracker time" when my co-worker has a box of delicious buttery crackers just staring at me when I've left my regular snack at home.

I never stop thinking about food. Ever. I know, spoken like a typical fat kid. Sometimes, it's easy for people to just mentally make the choice to lose weight. They're immune to outside temptations, easily say no to cookies and cakes, and can't imagine not going to their morning spin classes. I am not that person. I know myself, and I know I'm always looking for an out. So I have to constantly think about food - what's for breakfast, lunch, dinner. My struggles, successes and frustrations are something I talk about constantly, because this seriously consumes my entire life. It's damn exhausting.

Errands, housework, cleaning and other things I really ought to be making time for easily get put on the back burner so I can exercise. On one hand, I am really happy that I've found a great exercise plan that I LOVE doing, so I don't really hate dragging myself to the gym or outside to go running. That being said, sometimes I don't get home until 8:30-9 at night, which leaves all of about 2 seconds to eat dinner, walk the dogs, get laundry done, and do all the superwoman things that are apparently expected of females. It's such a fine line, trying to balance it all and still be able to enjoy myself without giving up exercise or giving up a clean house. Rob helps A LOT, but he can't do it all, and neither can I.

Why does it have to be so fucking dark out in the morning now? Seriously, mother nature - do you know how many runs I could get in before work if you'd just lighten the hell up? I partially blame Law & Order SVU for making me scared shitless to run when it's dark out, but still. I really would wake up at 5:30 to go running, and I do in the summer.

I am 26 years old and I live in a boring midwestern city. Yes, I have settled down quite a bit and am happy to spend most of my nights walking my dogs, watching Food Network or running errands, but I'm not dead. And without much going on around here, we usually find ourselves in a bar or going out to eat as our main method of socialization. And every single time, I have to figure out how I'm going to compensate for eating something bad - when will I have time to fit in a run to account for the french fries I ate? Because really, Lord knows I'm not going to order a boring piece of plain grilled chicken at the place that sells my favorite deep fried boneless wings. Every single weekend, I do this. And every single Monday, I am up a couple pounds and spend the next four days busting my ass to get back down before I have to weigh in.

I have lost over 25 pounds, but still have not dropped a full dress size. Do you even KNOW how frustrating that is?

I know. This sounds like I'm this miserable excuse of a human being who is doing something really cool about her health but is going to be negative and bitch about it like a dirty bitch. And honestly, I've gotten myself into some really great habits. But I'm so tired. I'm so sick of thinking about food, thinking about points, carbs, weigh in days, intake vs. output. It's never ending, and it's no different than quitting smoking. I've spent about 23 years being blissfully unaware of what I was eating, lost a lot of weight and then went back to being blissfully ignorant and gained most of it back. It's hard to see the same numbers on the scale you swore you'd never see again, but it's also hard to give up margaritas. Am I on top of my shit 100% of the time? No. I'd say about 80/20, and that's why my weight loss has been a slow and painful process. But I'm happy to say I'm still living my life. And in the name of cheesecake, I'll leave you some before and after pictures of my so-far progress. I should note that my before pictures are mostly from 2008 or before. After pictures are within the past few months. There's a long way to go, but all this bullshit has to pay off somehow.

 
 

Here's to the rest of the journey! :) 

things to stop doing in your twenties.

At the ripe old age of 26, I realize I still have a good four years left before I'm really able to tell everyone else what they ought to stop doing in their 20s. And even at that point, I realize some of you may think I'm totally narcissistic for assuming I should write the book what what to do and not to do at this age. But regardless, there are some things that we should all agree on. Some trends, behaviors and actions ought to find their closure at this point in our lives (or sooner, really) - I'm looking at you, Ugg boots with shorts.

1. Stop making the duckface. Seriously. I've never been a fan of the duckface (thank the Lord baby Jesus that none of my friends are, either), but this is one photo opp you should NOT take. Besides the fact that the rest of us can't quite figure out how you actually justify this as sexy, there's nothing more ridiculous than posting one status on Facebook about how you scored your first promotion at your big kid job, followed by a night of celebratory debauchery where you and your friends are in the bar bathroom posting said "sexy" photos of you puckering your lips together in this horrible way that only accentuates the double chin you are trying to hide.

2. Stop being jealous of your friends, and stop talking behind people's backs. I know, we're not all saintlike and able to be selfless like I wish we could be, but there comes a point in time where you really should be celebrating your friends' successes instead of being bitter and jealous that it isn't happening to you. Once you're out of college and into what people these days call "the real world," no one wants to sit around listening to you talk about how fat she looked in those jeans, and how she only got that promotion because she flirted shamelessly with her boss. Be happy for people who work hard, do not compare yourself to others, and use other people's successes as motivation to work harder. Unless of course that girl really was flirting shamelessly with her boss, in which case, she is a dirty whorebag.

3. Stop getting sloppy. I know what you're thinking - but wait, didn't you used to get wasted daily? Didn't you do that one thing you wish you'd never done? Wasn't that you that embarrassed yourself in public on your birthday and had to be carried out and taken home? No, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a classy lady. But really, at some point in the forever young decade of your 20s, you need to stop being such a sloppy drunk. Happy hours are fun. Parties are fun. So are random weekend nights and impromptu bar nights. If you didn't learn your tolerance level in your younger years (not that you'd ever drink before 21, right), you need to learn it quickly and not surpass it too often. Everyone drinks too much, makes an ass out of themselves and has fun stories to tell, but no one wants to look like the drunk with no real goals in life.  Notice I said you just need to stop doing this in your 20s. I didn't say at what point.

4. Stop eating like shit. It seems like even those with the furiously hardworking metabolisms notice the effects of living too hard in your 20s. After awhile, boxes of macaroni and cheese and frozen pizzas will start to pack on the pounds, and the six pack you drank doesn't exactly look like a six pack on your stomach. Educate yourself about what you eat - treat your body right, don't abuse it (too much) and don't take for granted your size 2 jeans now. If you don't know what carbs, sugars and processed foods can do to your body, you need to learn. If you think "organic" is a word only utilized by hippies, read up. Stop living in ignorance. It's your body, damnit.

5. Stop pretending like you don't care. Most of us binge-live (which is really what I like to call burning the candle at both ends for too long) because we're petrified of what life really has to offer. We don't know what we want out of life, and we're given a lot of options in our 20s. Living it up is fun, and I totally recommend it. But just remember that life is still there after the credit cards are maxxed out and the tequila bottle is empty. Pursue passions, figure out what drives you, and LET it drive you. Falling on your face is a lot more rewarding than never trying.

6. Stop bashing all your married friends. As a single girl, I spent a lot of time talking shit about my friends who fell in love, wifed up or got married young. While I still think you have a lot of living to do before you settle down with someone, what I didn't know was that when you do meet someone, you really do want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. Accept and understand that just because you're not mentally at the same place as your relationship/married friends, it doesn't mean they're wrong. That's the fun thing about choices - they don't have to be the same for everyone.

7. Stop having casual sex. I mean, seriously. (I'm not even going to do the 'I know what you're thinking....' part again). But really - very few good, solid relationships ever came out of a 2:00 a.m. call after you're drunk and leaving the bar, and most of us can speak from experience. It's not about who you want to spend Saturday night with, it's about who you want to spend all day Sunday with.

8. Stop shopping at the juniors section. This one is for you, ladies.

9. Stop depending on your parents for money. STOP. Seriously. Most of us have to be dropped in the real world to learn how to budget, save and plan ahead. I feel like this is the hardest step to take at this age, and the longer you put it off by letting mom and dad take care of you, the harder it's going to be. As horrible as this sounds, your parents aren't going to be around forever. If you do not pay your own bills yet, you need to be.

10. Stop being ignorant. About politics. Your own personal finances. What's going on in the world. I'm not saying you need to ALWAYS turn off the Kardashians in exchange for whichever news network you prefer, but you should not know the names of every cast member in reality television over knowing how your mortgage works, how your loans operate, and what's going on in the election.

11. Stop doing the following on Facebook: swearing, using poor grammar, posting obscure and passive aggressive statuses, posting self-portraits of yourself daily (especially doing #1), confessing your love, and giving us a play by play of your day. I should also note that by swearing, I really mean saying "fuck." Because it's not classy (even if it is the best word in the English language). Also, I do not need to know every single time you color your hair, every single pregnancy woe you have, or how many errands you have to run before work.

12. In relation to #11, stop being so open about your life. I'm an open book, anyone knows that, but that doesn't mean I tell every person who asks how my weekend was about my horrible period, the fact that my dog has diarrhea or that Rob and I got into an epic fight (only one of those is true). Less is more, and the more you reveal, the less interesting as a person you ultimately become, no lie.

13. Stop ignoring your body shape. Stop dressing for trends, and start dressing for what flatters your body. Skinny jeans shouldn't be made in every size, and men who weigh more than my pinky finger should not be wearing anything thinner than a straight cut jean. Just because Forever 21 has it in the window, doesn't mean it belongs on your body.

There are thousands of things I could add to this list. Please feel free to add your own. There's a fine line between still carrying out your youth and becoming that cougar that still shops at Forever 21. We are by no means cougars at this age, but you know what I'm saying. Some parts of the "forever young" mentality ought to be left forever in the past.

the gazelle and the basset hound.

I feel like this story could also just be a more dramatic and modern "tortoise and the hare" tale, but I like this better.

When I first signed up for Weight Watchers Online, I realized quickly that "activity points" (which are just what they sound like - extra points you can eat, earned from exercise) were God's gift. The more I accumulated, the more I felt at ease about staying within a range of points. I started experimenting with cardio at the gym and latched onto the treadmill since it seemed to give me the biggest bang for my buck. Because I had been lacking on the exercise in general, I saw results automatically, and was pleased to see fat melting off my legs and waistline. I continued to push myself farther at every run - first completing a 5k on the treadmill, then moving my runs outdoors where I was disappointed to learn that the treadmill had given me a false impression of what running was really like. I began from square one again, and when I moved into my first apartment on my own and got a dog that had more energy than twin 2 year olds, I had even more reason to hit the pavement with her.

Fast forward to January 2011. I ran my first half marathon and completed my first actual 5k race the previous fall. I should probably note that my runs are not stellar. I combine walking and jogging methods, and because of my short legs and the fact that I'm not a size 2, I'm lucky to run an 11 or 12 minute mile on a good day. Due to lack of proper training (and probably three month's worth of alcohol buildup over the months leading up to the race), my body pretty much quit after that race - I got sick, refused to leave the bed and flew home from my extended vacation in Florida following race day.

Weight loss and exercise has been a struggle for me since April 2010. I buckled down to run my half that winter since I had already committed, but the days between runs were filled with fried food, bar hopping and otherwise not taking care of myself. After the race, I spent the next year yo-yoing back to a number on the scale I vowed to never see again. I'd push myself for short phases, getting up for 2-3 weeks straight to run with the dog, or buckling down at the gym, but nothing would stick. I began to loathe my runs. I'd like how mentally satisfied I felt afterwards, but would dread the runs themselves. My body would hurt for days, and I couldn't get motivated to form any kind of habit. I began to envy those people who look like gazelles when they run. The ones who make it look so effortless, who can have a whole conversation mid-run, who lap me in a matter of minutes. They get the high, I imagine. They must be rewarded for this pain somehow, and I'm not feeling ANY reward. I'd burn out after hardly just beginning. Maybe I need another race. Maybe I'll sign up for the Disney half marathon again. So I did, and I'm still registered to run it this upcoming January.

This past spring, I self diagnosed myself with plantar fasciitis. If you've had it, you know exactly what I'm talking about. And no, I'm not a crazy WebMD person, but since multiple members of my family suffer from it, it's safe to say that I'm right in my diagnosis. Friends and family told me - don't run.  It's the worst possible thing to do - since this problem really centers in on your heel, I was pretty much an idiot to think I could keep pounding my heels on the pavement and magically fix the problem. I finally gave up and figured maybe the critics are right (shocking, right). Instead of running, I tried Zumba and a couple strength training classes at the rec center.

Oh. My. God.

How did I ever run? I am a basset hound. Seriously. The picture above? That is me, to a T. No, not the sporty Asian girl. The basset hound. Galloping. Slobbering, Sweating. Wagging my fat back and forth down the sidewalk. Eyes bulging. Not breathing.

Since giving up running, I have fallen in love with my exercise routine. I had been notoriously shy of classes because I've always gone to sporty gyms with super fit people who have nothing to do but workout all day. I've been intimidated by incredibly fit people. And don't get me wrong - the girls in these classes I go to are FIT. But I'm comfortable there. I love going, and I've got myself working out 6-8 hours a week now. Do you know how LONG that is for me? I've kept the same routine for over a month now, and I can't imagine my life without these classes. I ran a 5k a few weeks ago and was not at all shocked to see how poorly I did. And I hated it. HATED IT. I mean, it wasn't even FUN. Getting passed by all these god damn gazelles and feeling so totally worthless - and not even having the motivation to improve? No thank you. I'll take my Zumba and weights any day.

Since this realization, I've been grappling with the idea of not running my half in January. At this point, I'm perfectly content not running it. I am having tons of success with these classes - I've noticed changes in my energy levels and in my body. I hurt after my workouts, but it's a good hurt. Sore. Burning. Success. Not the aches and pains in my knees and hips that make me never want to get out of bed in the morning. And that stupid plantar fasciitis isn't gone yet, but it's finally manageable. When I was running, I could hardly get out of bed.

Am I breaking up with running? I don't know. Probably not. But I'm not a gazelle. I've wanted to be one for so long, but I've come to terms with being a basset hound. A sloppy, droopy eared basset hound. I'm good at a lot of stuff, and maybe running isn't one of them. I was so infatuated with becoming a "runner." The name holds so much power in the fitness world - like runners rule the world or something. I'm jealous of that ability. And I've demonstrated that I can achieve a goal if I want to (hellooooo, I ran 13 freaking miles). But just because it sounds good, just because it looks good, just because I get to walk around telling everyone I'm a runner, doesn't mean I like being one deep down. And that's okay.

weekly wins.

I'm beginning to wonder if there's any point in our lives where we stop being so hard on ourselves. In middle and high school, people affectionately refer to this behavior as "low self esteem" (right, like you didn't have it). As you get older, the focus shifts from that self-loathing kind of insecurity to this constant need to make things good/right/perfect all the time. This need I have to "fix" things is probably the one and only maternal instinct I have in my entire being.

When I joined Weight Watchers Online in 2009, I established my "weigh in day" as Thursdays - and as a result, I've been thinking of my weeks in "Thursday through Wednesday" form since. So, since I'd like to make blogging a habit (right now, the only habit I really claim is making up new names for my dogs and looking for the perfect wedding dress for my fake wedding on Pinterest), I'd like to start doing "Wednesday Wins." This will [hopefully] also help curb this constant tendency I have to focus on things I could have done better (or as I affectionately refer to them as: FAILS). My life revolves around eating and working out right now (obviously a vicious cycle), so excuse me if my wins reflect it.

Alright, my first weekly wins:

1. The dogs were not mad at me when I picked them up from the kennel Monday. Seriously, you think I'm kidding. Scout (my oldest mutt) is more habitual than anyone I've ever met, and after her first stay at the kennel, she wouldn't speak to me for two days. Yes, I said speak - and you're right, I'm one of those crazy animal people. She spent two days clinging to my boyfriend and acting like he was the coolest thing to hit the planet (ask him, and he'll obviously agree) before she realized that unfortunately for her, I am the one who possesses all holy things like treats, runs and oh, I don't know, feeding her. Luckily, she did not harbor such resentment this time around.

2. I ate half of a "mini pizza" and drank a beer last night, and did not beat myself up over it. BAZINGA.

3. Rob and I got a kickass Groupon deal on Ralphie May tickets for last night downtown. Since we had a credit for Groupon (long story short: don't ever stay at a Ramada), it cost us nothing. We managed to borrow a friend's parking pass and scored happy hour next to the theater and had a wonderful date night for $10 flat. If you live paycheck to paycheck in a dying town, you know damn well that this is seriously a major freaking win.

4. I managed to put in two hours of gym time tonight and had more sweat dripping off me than I have in a long time. Brody (our new pup) was throwing up which sent me into "holy shit" overdrive on my one hour break between classes at the gym, so I came home to check on it. No, of course I was not satisfied with Rob's response that the dog was fine and he would take care of it. After giving everything the stamp of approval (once again, because clearly I trust no one), I actually worked up the courage to take my super sore legs back to the rec for Zumba. Yes, I said Zumba. More on that later.

5. I have successfully recovered from a not so healthy weekend. Despite my weak attempt at tracking my meals, staying on my plan and eating healthy, I managed to be up 5.5 pounds after the weekend. FIVE AND A FREAKING HALF. Really? Maybe it was the sausage gravy my grandmother force fed me or the pizza that Rob force fed me (Ok FINE, I ate them both willingly). Either way, meticulous planning and tracking has allowed me to recover from the damage.

Ok. That's it. I could think of more, but then I'd just be faking it and this is supposed to be a natural process, right? I'm brainstorming ideas to discuss on here, and I really ought to start writing them down. I also want to get some weekly routine posts in here, but I still need to explore other blogs for ideas (what, you thought I had actual ideas of my own? Hogwash) and figure out where I want to go with it. I'm thinking recipe reviews, tons of lists (because I have the attention span of our new puppy), and of course, the trials and tribulations of growing up. I'm also really looking forward to writing a post on how I am completely half-assing adulthood in every way. This post is wonderfully inspired by someone suggesting an easy way to clean floorboards and if I do it this way, I only have to do it "about once a month." News flash: I've never cleaned my floor boards and I've lived here since June 2010.

Hope everyone has a fantastic rest of the week!

beginning of the end.

I turned 26 this month. TWENTY SIX. Anyone over 30 is rolling their eyes at me already, I can feel it. Those of you who aren't though - TWENTY FREAKING SIX. That's cloesr to 30 than 20 (hence my super fancy creative blog title - clever, right?). Those of you who know me know that my previous blog is chalk full of rebellious posts spoken like a true adolescent (in her early 20s). I insisted upon never growing up, living hard for as long as you can and never settling down. Well, you can guess what happened next.

I settled down, damnit.

Last year, I met a super fantastic guy (don't tell him I told you), realized that night after night of margaritas and tequila shots couldn't hide behind a plastic credit card forever, and that empty calories really throw you for a loop when you try to squeeze a pair of jeans on after frolicking all summer in a sundress. Since then, I've been mentally blogging about all the changes I've gone through at my own will - giving up the bar nights, keeping up with the soccer moms in my rec center weights class and trying zumba for the very first time. I realized I love all things cooking (and eating), that yard work isn't so bad, and that mundane evenings are something I actually crave now. My friends are getting married. Hell, half of them already are married. (I'm not at the "friends with kids" stage yet - Lord help us all). Everything I thought I could avoid forever and thought I didn't want now not only sits pleasantly at my front doorstep - I open the damn door and welcome it all in with a Martha Stewart smile.

I catch myself in mid-conversation talking about my dogs (I have two) and the newest low-carb recipe I tried. I think to myself constantly, am I boring now? Who am I? I pray to God I'm not boring - despite the fact that I'm talking about things now that the me from three years ago would have punched me in the face if she heard me talking about.

So, long story short - this blog is a fresh start. It's what happens to you when you're "closer to 30" - when you find yourself growing up when you didn't think it would ever happen. When you realize you have an entire "wedding board" on Pinterest and that (fingers crossed) hopefully will come true one day. When you try to get healthy, try to be fit, try to eat right. When you try new recipes, laugh at life's trials and tribulations of living with your boyfriend and two dogs, and try to get past living paycheck to paycheck.

So, if you're new: Welcome! If you're old: Sorry I'm not still drunk. Hopefully I'm not boring.