Backseat Driving, Yoga, & Jacuzzis

One of my top three pet-peeves is backseat driving. It infuriates me in less than ten seconds flat. My friend, Shan, has the worst habit of backseat driving I’ve ever encountered. The worst. But she’s also so hysterically funny that I can never get angry about it. Her commentary on my driving and her feelings while I’m driving  is TV-worthy. I should film it one day.

Today I went to yoga class with Shan and almost peed my pants on the way from laughing so hard. I’ve started going to yoga and Pilates regularly because I noticed that my hips–well, really everything–were getting tighter. Less nimble. But mostly my hips. I’ve always had tight hip and hamstring muscles, but now they’ve started to affect my lower back. And lemme tell you–I don’t do back pain. It’s no joke. So I’ve gotta keep these muscles supple, kids. Yoga always makes me feel one hundred percent better and more limber, and after two or three classes my back pain disappears. But it’s just so boring sometimes! And when it’s not boring, it’s because I’m struggling to hold a pose for five breaths while trying not to tip over and take down the person next to me. Talk about stressful!

Remember going rollerskating as kids and there always being one asshole who would grab onto you while he was going down and would send you crashing down too? I don’t want to be that asshole. Especially not in a yoga class! Can you imagine how mortifying that would be?! I shudder at the thought.

Yoga and Pilates classes are ridiculously priced so I have to supplement at home. I follow Patrick Beach on Instagram for his yoga videos and, ummm, not to be a creep or anything, but…his body. And I don’t mean how it looks, even though how it looks is

giphy-2

More so I’m referring to how strong he is and how gracefully he moves. Watch…

Does that not make you want to take up yoga daily?! I’d like to be that strong and agile! I also like to follow his Instagram because he has cute pictures and videos of his wife, too. I’m not a total creeper, gah! His Instagram handle is @patrickbeach if you want to follow him.

Aside from Pilates and yoga, I’m also into hot tub jacuzzi-type spa baths. I can’t stand it for long–heat and I don’t get along well. But if I sit in a hot tub for fifteen minutes, I emerge feeling like my muscles are rubber bands! I encourage you to try it whenever you can!

Ok, that’s about everything. I’ve gotta go pack my lunch and prep my clothes for tomorrow because I’m a responsible, proactive adult.

G’bye!

Get Angry

Yesterday, in Chicago, Dr. Tamara O’Neal was shot multiple times and left to die by her ex-fiancé because she dared to call off their engagement.

Recently, my anger has been bubbling to the surface more often. Anger over lots of things; children in cages, mass shootings, poor people getting poorer and being treated as if deserving of their poverty, cancer patients being bankrupted, domestic abusers and rapists being treated with kid gloves, sexual assault and harassment being waved and laughed off… The list (and the suffering) goes on and on. And fucking on and on and on.

I don’t know where the line is between staying informed and being crushed under the weight of our collective everyday anguish, but I’ve been skating a little too far toward being crushed. I could probably try therapy, as right now I’m lucky enough to have decent insurance. But…I’m not a sharer. Especially with strangers. And I hate crying about my feelings to people, even if I love you madly. So I joined a gym.

For the last few weeks, I’ve been to kickboxing class almost every single day. And beating the shit out of something for forty-five minutes a day has really turned my mood around! I have boundless energy, I’m always sailing on an endorphin rush, and my butt ain’t looking half bad either. And seriously, guys, don’t accidentally run into my thighs. They’re like brick walls right now. They can fracture bones.

I feel more like myself again–happier, calmer, belly-laughing, and more able to manage the world’s injustices. I mean, one day I’ll probably acquiesce to periodic therapy sessions but right now I’m just really interested to see how high and firm my butt can get.

If I were to offer my advice to anyone also struggling with the overwhelming, it would be to find whatever (or whomever) makes you feel like yourself again. And if that something happens to give you a nice butt? Stick wit’ it.

What I Did Do

I read four books this quarter. I didn’t even complete half of my goal of ten books. But, you know what I did do?

I hung out with my closest friends. I behaved like I was ten years old. I leaped off boats under a scorching sun and into cool waters. I made juvenile jokes and laughed at them myself. I drank Shiraz and woke up at eleven in the morning with pounding headaches. I drank champagne and woke up at eleven in the morning with pounding headaches. I drank rosé all day. I went to sleep when the sun came up. I forgot sunblock when I went stand-up paddle-boarding and didn’t worry once about crow’s feet. I made my friends laugh and got sore stomach muscles from laughing at their jokes. I skipped the mani and pedi. I spent twenty minutes on my winged eyeliner and eye shadow. I went four consecutive days without checking the news. I wore six-inch heels. I walked barefoot on wet grass and hot sand. I ate authentic Italian food and saw centuries-old art. I spoke in French. I cried. I volunteered. I committed. I swam at midnight. I ran at dawn. I test-drove a Lamborghini. I sailed a boat.

I did all the things you can’t do while you’re reading ten books.

Sweaty Sunday

For the past two and a half weeks, I’ve worked an absurd amount of hours and have slept a fraction of the time a normal, functioning person is supposed to sleep. This weekend I was finally able to catch up on sweet, sweet sleep. Also on Chicago P.D. and Law & Order SVU. And maayybeee The Kardashians.

The entire time I was working, I kept thinking to myself how much easier would this be if I had been eating spinach instead of chips or continued running three miles a day like I used to? I mean, four hours of sleep is not enough no matter how you slice it, but I probably wouldn’t have wanted to kill myself as often if I had gone into the last two weeks in tip-top shape.

Sooooo…

In between (beautiful) sleep and moments of consciousness yesterday, I reaffirmed my commitment to fitness and health and looking good in my leather leggings. Then this morning came and I wanted to cry when my alarm went off. How is it that I can be so motivated and firm one moment, then eight hours later I have to be dragged out of bed by my ankles? Le sigh.

I did manage to keep my promise to myself, though, and I went to a Pilates class this morning and played tennis afterward. It wasn’t as satisfying as lying in bed and watching YouTube videos, but…what is?