reducerenewrecycle

It’s been 34 days since the doctor put the kibosh on CrossFit because of the shoulder impingement (which still sounds like a big sally injury.)  Now, I know the pony keg that is my abdomen didn’t happen in those 34 days. No, I’ve merely become acutely aware of it in the last month.

There’s a wedding in two weeks for one of TB’s friends. I have a closet full of dresses that have been my go-to frocks for such occasions for the better part of a decade.  One favorite is a classic black,  v-neck that hits just above the knee.  The other fav is a silk magenta one-shoulder number. Both are forgiving and flattering and I can’t wear either right now.

That’s untrue. I shouldn’t wear either one. They have forgiven and flattered as much as their carefully stitched seams will allow. They tried to warn me with their gaping zippers, but I ignored their pleas and fought those zippers only to be mortified by my reflection.

What the HELL.

Thankfully, one of the second-string dresses will work. But more importantly, this has been a wake up call.

I hate shopping but if I don’t reign in this barrel chest and these voluptuous thighs, I’ll have to replace my entire wardrobe.   Did I mention that I loathe shopping??

Motivation comes in many individualized forms. For some people it’s health, for others it’s self-esteem. For this girl, it’s the mall.

I’ll gladly lose 10-15 lbs (too chicken to step on the scale) to avoid the mall.

It is important imperative to make 30 minutes to watch this.  I don’t even like church, and I was spellbound.

Nine years ago, we lost Bug; we will likely prematurely lose S; and I consider my mom to be a breathing miracle every day.  I didn’t realize until this very moment, I literally have a Buford named Buford.  He’s not cancer, but he’s a mountain I want to move.  And he’s not likely to go easily.  Mr. Buford unknowingly sparked my revolution.  Though LOL Congress is still a seed, it’s growing. And from that seed, I’m going to change the world.

Okay, really I’m just going to change a word in the world. But it’s a word that’s hurting a lot of people.

Live. Because I am coming. Touche, Lt. Col. Weber. Touche.

Between viewing Forks Over Knives cooking a super greasy pot roast, and seeing nutritional information on a package of grass-fed beef (20g of fat per serving!!), I believe my days of red meat are over.  In fact, I believe I’ll be phasing out animal products in general.  However, I grew up in a meat-and-potato household.  In any given week of the five dinners I cook, 3-4 are meat based meals.  I eat tuna for lunch at least once a week. Oh, and I really love cheese. While incredibly worthwhile, this will not be an easy transition to a plant-based diet.

First, I really hate throwing food away so we’ll use up the blatant animal products we have at the house, including several cheeses, a flank steak, and tuna.

Then, I’ll work to build a stock of plant-based meals from which I can easily build a menu.

Last, I’ll continue shopping more consciously for whole and vegan foods.

Way back when, I started my career in non-profit development as a bright-eyed 23-year-old.  It was the single most fulfilling job I’ve had to date. I worked long and hard and couldn’t wait for Mondays. Our event season ran from May to October and we spent 10-24 hours a day together during that time.  Needless to say, we were tight.

But making it on $21,191 a year is almost impossible and slowly one by one we moved on.  As many of us went corporate as moved onto to other non-profits.  While I averaged about 2.5 years per job, Jelly rooted into a non-profit, worked her way up to a vice president position. Just this past fall she took a position as an executive director.

She was born to lead and has all of the characteristics necessary to not only run an organization but to leave it better than she found it.

My first reaction was pride. I’m proud of her. But then I quickly turned it back on myself. Should I have been an ED by now? Am I as successful as I should be?

I’ve always liked being an individual contributor better.  I even thought dealing with an intern this past fall was the woooorst.  And the work an executive director does is mostly loathsome. There’s no way I want that job.

After spending too much time wondering if I was failing myself, I stopped to wonder why I was comparing myself to Jelly.  We were never on the same track in life, why on earth would I measure my success against her career path?

Baz Luhrmann said, “The race is long, but in the end, it’s only with yourself.”  True that.