Inspire Me: Healthy - You're Looking A Little Pale

Ladies,
your attention please.

We're doing something new and exciting around these parts.

In three days, I will be here:

Doing this:

Like these crazy people:

Yup. I signed up for the Color Run.

That's the CMY5K, for those of you other crazy runners out there.

I'm running a 5K. Holy crap. 3.1 miles of stupidity on my part, 

because I am not a runner. 

I am so freaking excited about this though!

The rules are simple:

You start wearing a white T shirt.

You make it to the end of the race however you want - 

run, walk, jog backwards, whatever.

Along the way, people throw handfuls of powdered color at you,

so when you arrive at the finish line, 

you look a little like this:

It's going to be totally brilliant. 

I've been running more this week in preparation and working out more in general.

It feels pretty good. 

Like when you're the one taking forever to get down the stairs

and your 60 year old co-worker goes around you,

laughing,

because your legs are so sore.

I'm having a lot of fun with this.

Then again, so are my co-workers.

Being healthy is supposed to be fun.

Make it that way. 

I'll be back with pictures from the actual race next week! 

the race is Saturday, but you all have to wait til Thursday ;) 

Tell me - how do you have fun with working out? I want to know :) 

meet my alter ego.

sometimes I think I have an alter ego.

I haven't named her yet, but I'll bet it would be something along the lines of Lafawnda. or Lucretia. or Shanay-nay. or Wanda Sykes. things get pretty fun when she shows up. 

sassy nameless alter ego does not look like this:

nuh uh. no way. And whoever tagged January Jones as a "sassy woman" (yes, I Googled it): for real? Are you for real? 

no, sassy alter ego looks a lot less calm and a lot more like this:

yes. my alter ego, oddly enough, is a sassy black woman.

[I'm not trying to be offensive here, just going with stereotypes. because we all know those are so true.]

sassy alter ego doesn't take crap from people. she has no problem saying no, she actually holds up her index finger to make a point, and makes the duck face more than any person should. she also gives a damn good hairy eyeball. 
sassy alter ego says the heck with eating healthy; we are going to Subway today. because that's what we want to do. and momma gets what momma wants. (kidding. that was too far)
sassy alter ego swears in front of her mother, refuses to conform to work dress code, yells at people who can't drive, glares at everyone, has witty comebacks for anything thrown at her, and offers scathingly honest opinions no matter what the topic. 
sassy alter ego wonders what it is, exactly, that they put in those little brown pills at the end of the packet. and she would give a certain apple-eating, snake charming female of the B-I-B-L-E a royal smackdown if she ever got the chance.

sassy alter ego and I are almost complete opposites. she's a fun houseguest, but thank God she only shows up for 2 days a month. people might start thinking I have problems. you know, serious ones. 

366 days ago

366 days ago, on the first day of my last first semester at college,
I marched into my 8:35 Geology class
and fell in love with A.
We looked at each other, and we just knew.
It was tummy-churning, starry-eyed
love at first sight.

No, wait. That's not what happened.
What really happened was more like this:

Of course I woke up late on the first day of classes,
so when I got there most of the seats were full
but I saw my good friend Jessie sitting all the way in the back
with an open spot between her and some kid I sort of recognized,
pushed my way grumpily to the back, and sat between them.

We introduced ourselves and did the usual "nice to meet you"
icebreakers,
and realized that we'd all had a class together the year before,
that I didn't even remember him being in. (go me)
And then class was over and we went on our merry ways.

What I didn't know at the time, of course,
was that the kid was A,
and that he had a huge crush on my friend Jessie,
and had positioned himself a seat away from her for a very good reason.

Even after he and I started talking he was still crushing on her,
and spent a good deal of time trying to get up the balls to talk to her.
And I was trying to help him because I had no idea who this girl was
that he was stalking liked, and wanted him to be happy,
since we were sort of friends at that point.

Of course once we really started talking and hanging out,
he obviously realized that I was awesome,
and I thought he was pretty cool too,
and by the beginning of November we were dating.

So while I didn't know it for a few months,
I unwittingly cock-blocked my own boyfriend
from flirting with one of my best friends,
and made him fall in love with me instead.

And that, girls, is how you get a boyfriend in college.

The end.

I'm going back to college!

Psych.

I wish I was. I've been wishing so hard, hoping that if I close my eyes

tight enough and just focus hard,

I'll be able to go back to Ursinus.

That I'll be back home.

Obviously, I'm wasting my energy here.

Not a good feeling.

What makes it worse is that I still have a lot of good friends there,

who are going to be telling me all about the exciting happenings,

and there will be PNMs for Sigma,

and worst of all,

A has this one last year,

and I'm not there.

In a lot of ways, UC is our place.

Where we first met almost 3 years ago,

where we had class together and first started talking,

where we studied together and hung out with our friends,

where we took all those late night walks

and got into fights and made up,

where he hit me in the face with a football

and came to my room between classes, just to see me for five minutes,

and where he helped put me back together during

one of the roughests times of my life.

I could tell you how many steps it takes to get to our spot

on the second floor of the library,

or what to avoid at all costs in the dining hall,

and how to make the Campus Safety guys laugh.

I could tell you that living near Reimert Hall isn't great

unless you don't mind not sleeping,

and that Main Street is always treacherous when it snows.

That brunch sucks, that Wawa bagels are better any day,

that the President's dog loves kisses,

and which professors will be your best friend, no matter what.

It's our place and I'm not there with him.

Maybe I should have failed last year on purpose?

#notrichenough

I think looking back over people's lives in pictures is one of the

coolest things about blogging,

but if you choose not to look through the next 4 gajillion pictures,

I won't be offended.

They're mostly for me anyway.

But if you could pass the tissues, that'd be a huge help.

Halloween freshman year - as Sarah Palin!

Sophomore year

Junior year - became a Tri Sigma!

Found my passion and classes that I loved

Studying abroad in Scotland :)

Met and fell in love with this guy :)

Got my very own little

Senior formal

To say I'm not tearing up would be a flat out lie.

 I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have spent
four years of my life at 
this amazing place.

- 1

We may be odd,

but we sure take some good last minuteportraits.

And can we just talk about how gangsta my parents are?

Little bro's at college now.

I didn't cry.

Really. I didn't. 

Happy Friday, peeps.

PS. Something for all you matrimonily-minded kids:

a good life lesson for all of us.

Inspire Me - Healthy: Week 4!

Or technically Week 3 I guess, since I skipped last week. Rather, I wrote a really long and whiny post about how I wasn't eating right and it was everyone else on the planet's but mine. Nobody wanted to read it, trust me. So, Week 4!

I've been running like a fiend.









Did I get you there? No? Bummer. Because I haven't run at all. 
But you know what I have done? 
Kept saying no to the crap. Even the Klondike Bars. #sohard
And I've been doing a lot of office exercises. Believe me, it sounds way lamer than it is.
Every hour, on the hour I get out of that stupid chair, 
make sure my door is closed good and tight,
and get at it. 

Here's the deal:

Shadow Boxing	3 minutes
Lunges	50
High Knees	2 sets of 100
Squats	100

If your butt doesn't hurt after that, we can no longer be friends. Because my butt is jealous of yours. 

The funny thing? Even though this isn't by any means super intense or a good long workout - because somedays, there just isn't time for that - it works! Keeping active during the day keeps your metabolism up - and makes my butt disappear. Or at least get a little smaller.

Do you guys do anything during the day to keep moving? Especially if you happen to work in an office - I want to hear it! 

the most excited wednesday post ever

Happy Wednesday, kids!

Why is it a happy Wednesday?

Three reasons.

One - I have off tomorrow to move the brotha into his dorm!

Two - My hair somehow managed to look amazing today!

aaannndddd reason Three -

Guess who has two thumbs and an apartment?

This chick, that's who?

I HAVE AN APARTMENT, YOU GUYS!!

I'm pretty freaking pumped.

As in jumping up and down screaming and running in circles pumped!

I found out last week but didn't want to say anything until it was finalized,

but now it is and I move in on September 1st!

Which leaves me with approximately eight days

to buy a big girl bed and furniture

and learn how to feed myself regularly.

And I think I might be getting old because these are the kinds of things that

excite me these days.

I can't wait to show you all pictures and to see how it turns out!

I have a quiet little alter ego with a passion for interior decorating that doesn't

get to come out much.

I'm looking forward to indulging her.

Oh, and there's this little giveaway going on over at We & Serendipity. 

these days, in case you aren't aware

(feel free to crawl out from under your rock now)

thanks to Mrs. Schroeder and Sammantha from Dsyfunctional Ever After.

You might feel tempted to enter.

Don't.

I'm only mentioning it for the additional entries.

This girl wants that latitude ring and some sweet Essie nail polishes.

Peace and blessings, lovelies.

alright, so.

Okay, so here's this thing. My little brother goes to his freshman year of college in 3 days.
THREE.
And I'm a mess.

I'm freaking going to miss that kid.
I used to hate him. He used to hate me.
I was 3 when he was born, and when he came home from the hospital I tried to carry him across the street to the barn, like we did with all the baby chicks we raised in our basement until they were big enough to be on their own. I was just trying to help. Honest.
Things were a little, uh, uncomfortable until about 4 or 5 years ago. He bit me as a baby, I dressed him up in girl clothes. He read my diaries, I locked him out of the house. We tried to kill each other on a daily basis.
Mostly we've gotten past that.

More than that, he and I have always been buffers for each other. Like when a parent was mad at one of us, we'd stand up for the other. Never been the kind of people to throw someone else under the bus.

It's stupid because I've already gone to college and "abandoned" him, almost four years ago, and now that it's his turn to go I'm absolutely devastated.
I got weepy in Target for goodness sake, picking out towels with him. Seriously?
I'm not his mother, but I feel like - at least in our case - we're closer as siblings.

Who else can get away with telling me that I look like "a balding Gene Simmons" first thing in the morning? Nobody, that's who.

All those gross freshman girls (you know they exist) better stay away from my brother if they know what's good for them. I may be ancient in your eyes, little girl, but I can still kick your butt.

sometimes, I just wake up happy

I am lucky ...



via



- to have a hilarious brother who drags me around Target for two hours buying collage supplies, agonizes over towels and thread counts, who makes me actually fall on the ground laughing twice, and who buys me Starbucks afterwards for my trouble

- to have coworkers with whom I can have intense discussions about the zombie apocalypse

- that I somehow managed to perfectly shave both knees this morning

- to have a boyfriend who sends me Lost-related texts and knows that I love being called "Freckles" like Kate

- that Jenna Marbles exists

- that the interview went well!

- to have best friends, a crafty dad, a mom who leaves "Good Morning!" notes, a body that works, and a heart that can be joyful for all of these things

this was supposed to be an outfit post

I still live at home, for those of you wondering.

Which means that at any given time, there are 3 people around who can push a shutter button and help me out with a potential "What I Wore" post.

Naturally I don't ask anyone to help, and so tonight turned into me taking shameless self-timer pictures in the bed of our old rusty Ford. 

I'm such a failure. But I think I look pretty good, so you get to be blessed with my face all up in your screen. Welcome. 

I really need a tripod. And maybe some sleep?

Oh, and I have an interview for an apartment tomorrow after work. Forgive the shameless self promotion, and please please please cross your fingers that this goes well!

And hi - and thank you - to all you new followers :) It's cliche, but yes, I'm surprised anyone's interested in my ramblings. It makes me feel good though, so keep it up ;)

in which Puddle makes a friend

Have you guys met Puddle? I honestly can't remember if I've introduced him yet. That would be him, on the right. And Spike is on the right. He's a triceratops, in case you can't tell.

Spike came home with us on Saturday, thanks to a little begging and a few tears on my part, and courtesy of the Target. 
It's kind of silly, really. The way I get attached to things.

He was just sitting there in the toy aisle, along with every other Pillow Pet in the world. But once I picked him up for a few minutes the thought of putting him back on the shelf, of him possibly never finding someone else who wanted him - it made those "pleeeeeeese, babe?" tears of mine real.

Since I got Puddle for Christmas, I tend to think of him as our baby. Part of our little family. I don't know, I guess I thought he needed a brother or something. Which is weird, I know. And even though it was silly of me, it only took a little bit of begging before A agreed. So Spike came home, and I think he and Puddle took to each other pretty well. We're going to be great parents someday, obviously.

I guess the point of all this is that I am so, so lucky to be with someone who lets me get attached to things and doesn't mind carrying a giant stuffed dinosaur around while I shop, and only laughs when he thinks I'm not looking. Cheers to you, babe. I'm glad I sat next to you in Geology last year.

and then my hand started bleeding

So this is a story about the stupid cat. You may remember her. She makes an appearance once in a while, just because she's so weird. Someday I'll have to tell you about how we got her, because it's kind of a funny story, but not for a while, because this isn't a blog about my cat (if you're looking for one of "those" blogs, you might have to go elsewhere).

ANYWAY.

She's been pretty boring lately. She only went for my Achilles twice yesterday, down from the normal average of 5 attacks per day.
We're chilling on the couch last night, yoga pants and an old hoodie (me, not her), and she's actually curled up in my arms, dozing. We'd been there for about ten minutes, peacefully, she was letting me scratch behind her ears and all that. And I remember thinking to myself,

"Wow. I think we might actually be friends!"

And right as I thought that, she opened her eyes - wide - looked right at me, and took a swipe at my right hand. Claws out.

Commence bleeding.

And then she picked herself up daintily, walked across the couch to my mother, laid down on her lap, and proceeded to sleep soundly for the next two hours. True story.

None of this is terribly important, but it's all to say that I was supposed to go to Conneticut this weekend to see my girls from Scotland, who I only get to see twice a year or so, but the weather had other ideas and now there's a storm warning for the next 24 hours.

And like any normal parents, mine have adamantly stated that I will not be driving 5 hours north into a "red zone" because they want their daughter alive, so I will be spending the weekend sulking.

To which I say, screw you, weather. And to the cat, too. Screw you, cat.

The end.

Inspire Me: Healthy, Week 2!

I am not a pretty sweater.

I don’t mean that in a “Haha, I just say that but I’m actually cute when I work out” way.

My hair does not stay fluffy. My makeup does not stay on (so I don’t wear it anyway).

I do not smile while I run. There are no cute boys winking at me in the gym.

And because I am incredibly vain and don’t like people to know how I look when I work out, I rarely have a workout buddy. Accountability goes out the window (whatever was there to begin with).

It’s funny, really. Why on earth would someone be embarrassed to be seen sweaty?

Shouldn’t that sweat be a badge of pride?
An “I worked out today” badge.

Those muscles I want, that tone … they’re just supposed to magically appear?

Right.

This week, I finally decided to let go of that whole vanity thing.

And I went trail running with Chels.

It was gross. I won’t go into details but I can promise you it wasn’t pretty.

Somehow, I survived, although my vanity took a nosedive somewhere around five minutes in. But it was okay.

Being proud of myself at the end was more than worth it.

And you know the weird thing?

I really enjoyed myself.

As far as eating goes, I’ve been doing well. Cutting out sugar, eating a lot more greens. And a lot of fruit. Plums have become my new favorite food. #Iloveyousummer

I drug my dad to the store and we bought

pretty much every kind of fruit known to man

and basically every vegetable besides brussel sprouts

(which come straight from Satan, I'm pretty sure).
I chopped them up and brought them to work every day,
and when I get hungry
(which is like every two hours, on the hour),
I got myself some bangin' fruit.

And after a few days of eating really, really well,

I'm not craving crap food anymore.

This is my biggest success this week.

Next week:

Stick with the new healthy eating

Keep drinking water like it's going out of style

RUN MORE

    I've got this. You've got this.   We've got this.

The Girl Who Could

For a while now I've been toying with the idea of doing a mini-series on growing up. At 22, I've hit the point in my life where there are a lot of things that need doing, and even more that need learning. I'm not a life coach or a guru, but I am great at figuring out how to do things. And as I figure them out, I'd like to share them in a series of posts called "The Girl Who Could." They'll be popping up every once in a while - let me know what you think! If they're successful, I'd like to make them a regular link-up, so everyone in the same boat of figuring out life can share their stories!

Without further ado, I give you the first edition of "The Girl Who Could"

I’m not the budget type of person.

I’m more of the “no, I can’t afford it so I won’t buy it” kind of girl. For 22 years.

But budgets? Nope. Never have been. Until today.

Bet you didn’t see that coming.

Neither did I, let’s be honest.

Since the apartment fiasco this weekend, I’ve been thinking a lot about money.

How I spend it, how I shouldn’t spend it, where it should be going … you get the idea.

All this thinking made me realize just how much I didn’t know.

I wanted to be smart but I didn't know how.

This morning while I was groggily stumbling around on the internet,

I found Mint.com.

And something clicked.

Mint.com has the easiest, most user friendly set up I’ve ever seen.

You enter your personal information, bank account information and credit cards on their secure site, which are then linked to the site, as well as your liabilities and loans.

From the second you click “close” all those things are linked, tracked, accounted for, and categorized.

So you’re accountable.

For every gas tank fill-up that makes you cry,

for every Starbucks iced coffee you “had to have,”

for all the end-of-season sale pieces that were crying for a home in your closet.

At the same time, you're also setting goals, making payments on loans, tracking debts and income deposits.

All of these things are shown in user-friendly charts and visuals with links to the transactions that account for them.

This is brilliant.

For example:

This clearly isn't my profile, but to the person who spends $72 dollars at Starbucks a month, I say dude, you should probably get that habit checked on. For real.

The "Ways to Save" tab offers everything from credit card deals to investment options and insurance company profiles. Having a multitude of information (though it certainly isn't all-inclusive) all on one page makes coming to an informed decision just that much easier.

They also offer email and SMS updates, which I immediately signed up for. 

Let me tell you, it is a game changer.

Making the choice to be an active participant in your financial life is a huge step, and the first move towards financial independence. I may not have the greatest income (fact) and I may have student loans out the wazoo quickly approaching (also, fact), but I've made the decision to be smart about my money, and I think the rewards will be great.

Have any comments or hints to share? The "comment" button's a great place to start ;)

this was hard to do.

No one ever said growing up would be easy. No one said finding an apartment would be easy. Thank God. If someone says that to me, I’ll punch them.

On Thursday I found out that the girl I was looking for apartments with can’t afford to do it anymore.

Friday afternoon, I found a place that I loved with every ounce of myself.

On Saturday, A’s entire family drove up from Maryland to look at the apartment of my dreams with me, I fell even deeper in love and put a deposit down on it.

On Sunday I found out I got the apartment.

Sunday night I realized that even though I loved it, I could just barely afford it. I could but it would be a lot of barely scraping by.

So this morning, I had to let it go.

I cried a lot about it. I want so badly to be independent, in a place that I love.  

It seems like I keep getting close, and then it slips away again.
It is so frustrating.

I guess this is adulthood though - learning how to give up what you want dearly now for the promise of a better future.

the bracelet.

It's last October. I'm in my room at college, on my bed. I'm pretending to study, but I'm really watching A. He's sitting at the other end of my bed. It's afternoon and light is streaming in the window perfectly the way it always did around 4 pm. My roommate is still in class, and A is perched on top of my pillows, with string taped to my desk, and he's making bracelets.The kind with three colors that you knot around each other. I picked the colors out: white, pink, turquoise. His was turquoise, white, and orange. He loves the Miami dolphins. I remember making fun of him for that.

He made one for himself. He made one for me. It took a while because he wanted them to be perfect. We weren't dating, not yet, but that was the beginning of it, at least for me. I had something physical, something touchable, something his. And he had the other half. No one knew it but us; it was our secret. We both put them on. Tied them for each other. Left hands; matching.

I don't have a picture of that day. I wish I did, but I don't need one. Some moments don't need proof. My memory sees it perfectly. There's the sun and there's A, and he's hunched over the edge of my desk, focusing so intently on making those tiny knots complete. He's wearing that red shirt and those jeans that he always wears, and his Nikes that he'd just gotten. I loved him right there, right then, without reservations.

Yesterday, it finally broke. It fell off in the bathroom, as I was washing my hands, but I didn't notice it until I was back in my office and panicked, running all over the building to try to find it. I backtracked to the bathroom. Found it. I cried.

For the first time in almost 10 months, my wrist feels naked. There will be more; he says he'll make new ones for us. "You'll have to pick out new colors," he says. No other bracelet in the world, no matter how fine, will ever mean half of what that one did to me.

In those tiny threads, those carefully tied knots; in that impossibly small rainbow is us. Is our beginning.

Inspire Me: Healthy, The Beginning

So here's the deal. And you know this is serious, because I've never done a link up before. Big day, I know.   From now on, around here Thursdays are getting a little healthier. [she said as she ate a jelly donut]   I ate like crap this week. Period time. For some reason that one week a month just makes me want to down every Klondike Bar in sight. Plus we had a lot of birthdays at work, and we do birthdays European style, where the person getting old[er] brings in something. It's usually donuts.   I hate my coworkers.   Here's how I look at healthy: I haven't looked at a scale in years. I couldn't tell you where mine is. The number doesn't matter to me. What matters is how I feel about myself. I will never have "collarbones that can catch rain." I read somewhere that someone wanted them, and it made me sad. Because I don't want to be tiny, I don't want to be bony. It isn't healthy - for me. I wasn't born that way. This girl is a pear. 100%.   But what I do want is health. I want strong. I want to look at myself in the mirror, butt naked, and be proud. So that's what I'm starting.   I'm going to finish this donut (iced, not sugared - how do people eat the powdered ones anyway?) and I will enjoy it. I'm going to go home, take a "before" picture of myself, and use it as motivation. I might post it, I might not. I might even dig out my scale (it has to be somewhere).   And then, tomorrow, I'm going to start.    

life recently (in photos)

I suck at taking impromptu pictures. Posed pictures, yes, absolutely, I will whip out the Nikon any time you say "photoshoot." But I am the worst at remembering to take pictures of the everyday stuff. I'm working on it (pinky promise). Here is life for the last week or so, according to my phone and little red camera.

shoe shopping at DSW with my Juliefriend. Yes, I bought these. Yes, they were $18 on clearance instead of $145 retail. I actually shrieked in joy.

 My pretty mama outside at sunset

"first thing in the morning" hair

making friends with the stupid cat

Chels and I staging our own "personal protest" outside of Chick-fil-a. Neither one of us actually swings that way though.

Dora, my new office plant, courtesy of IKEA. Behind her, the saddest view ever ... outside my window, another window. Into another office. sigh.