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.