Body-Happiness

We have become used to hating our bodies and it's a shared thought that's spreading to a younger population- an estimated 90% of teenagers are unhappy with the way they look, starting them off on a vicious and dangerous path to chronic dieting and pursuit of a perceived perfection. 

There's a reason why the weight-loss industry is a billion dollar one. 

Sad, but true, it is now more common to be unhappy with our bodies than it is to be completely content with our shapes.



We criticize our lumps and bumps in the mirror, groan at the parts that wiggle and flap and truly believe that happiness lies in the magical land of five-pounds-lighter. So, things go one of two ways: 

We make ourselves miserable on a diet only to feel it's still not enough...

OR

We get so frustrated with the confines of a diet program that we catch ourselves mid comfort-food binge feeling anything but comfortable. 

When we get a scrape, it heals if we would only stop picking at the scab. The good news here is that when given half a chance to, the body will heal itself. 

That's what this is really all about. 

There is an optimal healthy shape that each of our bodies are designed to hover around. Some call it a "set-point weight." I call it body-happiness.

Body-happiness is the point where everything in the body just... effortlessly works. It's the point where there is no struggle to maintain a number on the scale. It's the weight at which there are no aches and pains on the joints. It's where the body is not asking for caffeine, sugar or stimulants in order to get through the day. It's where our bodies want to be. 

But, we hurt it and take it away from that body-happiness. 

We hurt it with improper diet, rest and exercise, with a lack of self-love, with distrust and overall neglect. 

So, the body packs on extra weight as a response, in an attempt to protect itself from the pain. 

So, we attack the added weight with more negative energy and painful measures to make it go away. 

The body continues to respond to the negativity. 

And so on...

Let's stop this pattern before it does any more damage (because we know it's already done its share). Let's stop abusing our bodies and start realizing that since it's the only one we will ever have, we should start showing it some gosh-darn respect!

In a series of posts, I'll be focusing on body-happiness and figuring out how to get there. 

We all have what it takes to not only reach that optimal weight, but, more importantly, to give ourselves the acceptance we cry out for in the first place. 

We can redefine our paths of least resistance away from our unhealthy habits and guide ourselves to a place of health, wellness and abundant energy. It's what the body wants- to heal, to be comfortable and to find that feel-good body-happiness!

Loving Ourselves First

As I browsed through some blogs, I came across this on feelgoodeating.blogspot.com:

"A fool in love makes no sense to me. I only think you are a fool If you do not love."

What a beautiful quote! 

I believe that love is one of the strongest powers in existence. I could go on to argue that love gives purpose to life. 

Love is passion.
   Love is relationships.
      Love is respect for self and others.
         Loving yourself and others and to be loved is happiness. 

To love ourselves is to take care of our own well-beings. 

Without that fundamental base of self-care, how can we expect to provide the best love and care for others? Far too often, there is an imbalance between the energy we spend in the outpouring of care versus the energy used to make sure we are at our well-est. 

Imagine if we held on to a fraction of the energy we expend doing things for others, meeting others' deadlines, and making sure others know we love them. 

To love and care for yourself is not selfish, but necessary.

Making sure we feed ourselves nutritious, yummy foods, keep our bodies strong and limber with proper stretching and exercise, maintain mental stimulation for our brains and honor our needs for rest and relaxation are all vital for us to thrive and reach our fullest potential. 

To believe we do not deserve the same love we share with others is nonsense. To dishonor our bodies, minds and spirits through neglect, poor quality foods, physical and chemical abuse, and negative self-talk only broods more negativity. 

We all deserve happiness; taking self-care measures to bring more light and positive energy into our lives puts us in a much better place to be able to share that same bright energy with others. 

So here's to cooking a good, hearty meal, getting to the gym, allowing room for more laughter and taking long, soothing bubble baths to ease ourselves to restful sleep!

Why I Hate Calories-Burned Monitors

By the time I was done with my highly intense 20 minute, hop-on-hop-off, sprint-a-minute-walk-for-two, interval training on the treadmill, the calories burned monitor displayed a whopping 428!

Yeah, right. 

In the world of fitness and weight management, numbers receive far too much power than they deserve. Calories, pounds, fat grams, carbohydrate counts... (all of that, in fact, is an entirely other topic in and of itself that I could go on and on about, but I digress...) I say- keep math in the classroom, where it belongs and leave the calculations to our accountants. 

If I could, I would smack a sticker that says "enough" on the calories burned monitor of every piece of exercise equipment. Instead of feeling the pounding of our hearts , the beads of sweat on our skin and the endorphin rush in our brains, we look to the digitized number on a machine to tell us good our workout was. 

I don't think so, ya big ol' pile of metal, wires, plastic and rubber! 

"I just burned 500 calories on the elliptical!" Great. Wonderful. But, how do you FEEL? 


When it comes to fitness, let's forget the numbers and reassess the reasons for working out in the first place. 

The truth of the matter is, exercise is a very inefficient way of burning calories. Gasp. I know. A bold statement coming from a personal trainer. But, think about it: In order to burn off the equivalent of one tiny M&M, you have to walk the entire length of a football field. No thank you, I have better things to do with my week. 

So... am I saying that working out is a waste of time? NO!

I don't know about you, but getting in a sweaty session at the gym makes me feel wonderful, regardless of what any caloric-expenditure equation will be able to tell me. 

At an intimidating 5'0", I feel empowered as I feel the heavy weight of cold metal in my hands. The feeling of accomplishment from hauling my body weight up into a pull-up and pressing twice that weight with my legs? There's nothing like it. 

When I'm doing my thing at the gym, I'm not thinking, "must burn off the slice of pizza I had this afternoon." 

...but, rather "wow, my body is stronger than I give it credit for!" and that's what it should be about- appreciating the strength of our muscles and recognizing the awesome abilities of our bodies. 

We should be constantly celebrating our individual power rather than suppressing it by punishing ourselves with diets, workouts that we have to rather than want to do, and telling ourselves we are somehow bad for eating one thing over another.  

I feel sad for those that drag themselves to the gym, miserably trudging along on the treadmill, glaring at the calories burned monitor, waiting for it to reach some magical good-enough number... They're missing out on a chance to really experience what it means to do something wonderful for their bodies and overshadowing a chance to experience a natural uplifting of their spirits by focusing on a number that, in reality, is far from accurate, to be quite honest.

Exercise is a beautifully intoxicating experience that I partake in on most days of the week. I don't do it to manage my weight, change my appearance or balance out my food intake- those things come as a bonus. I do it for me, for the health of my mind and body and to remember that I am strong, able-bodied and powerful beyond what any number will ever be able to tell me. 

We Grow and We Change (Thank Goodness!)

eIn middle school, I was the nonathletic kid in gym class who exaggerated a wheeze in order to be deemed medically unable to complete the one-mile run. At one point I was “diagnosed” with exercise-induced asthma and was prescribed an inhaler to be taken in the nurse’s office (where I spent most of my gym-class hours). Every year students were required to have a mile run timed and only once did I drag my spiteful heels through the entire four laps, clocking in at an impossibly slow 20 minutes, stopping every few minutes to retie my self-untying shoelaces and stretch out a pesky reoccurring cramp. Getting me to run was like pulling teeth. I hated every step of it and rolled my eyes at the weekend afternoon joggers diligently hitting the pavement, confused as to why they weren’t sprawled out on the couch with a bowl of Cocoa Puffs chased by a scoop of ice cream.

Fast forward to today: Just back from a sweaty end-of-workout jog in the near 100F heat, I excitedly tack on another three miles to my ongoing outdoor mileage log, overjoyed that I have amassed over three marathons’ worth of pavement. I keep at least two pairs of sneakers in my car at all times (right now, four) along with clean socks. Instead of drooling over the newest toy, my eyes sparkle as I window shop for a runner’s wristwatch equipped with GPS. Suddenly, I had become the afternoon runner I had once scoffed at as a child; I’ve changed, to say the least.

Thank goodness we aren’t defined by our pasts. Hallelujah for being able to make decisions, create change and reform our likes, our goals and ourselves.Had you told a preteen-me that I would one day be a wellness fanatic and an avid runner, I would have laughed through a mouthful of Oreos and turned back to my cartoons. I was no athlete as a child, but today I am proud to have earned that title.

Years don’t have to pass by in order to make a personal change for the better- that’s the beauty of the power of choice. If there’s something I don’t like about myself I have two options: do nothing or do something about it. I am a constant work in progress towards the best version of myself and I intend to make daily strides towards that end, no excuses made. Since my tweaks have been constant, I don’t have to look as far back as 13 years at the “exercise-induced-asthmatic television loving couch potato” in order to see the positive changes I’ve made, but the drastic comparison it presents sure is entertaining!

Learning from Injury

Last summer, I cried when the persistent pain in my shoulder was diagnosed as “long thoracic nerve palsy.” Hearing the clinical terms scared me as I associated “palsy” with “something really, really bad.” The nerve damage greatly reduced my range of motion of my dominant arm and made lifting anything over three pounds impossible. I felt defeated on the weight room floor as even the lightest dumbell was too heavy; just a week ago, I had been able to press 20 pound dumbells over-head with ease. Even with the reassurance of  my physical therapist, I worried that I would never regain the strength that I had worked so hard to build.

After the initial mental/emotional sting of being injured subsided and after doing research on my condition, I was able to see the shades in between the black and white. Since I had always been active, my body would theoretically respond and repair quicker than if I had led a sedentary lifestyle. Looking for the universe’s message in the situation, I realized I had not given my muscles a prolonged break from constant weight lifting in years. So, I resolved to take a one-month weight lifting hiatus, as much as it pained me to do so, sticking only to cardiovascular training. In the mean time, I would experiment with different forms of cardio while I attended physical therapy.

Performing my exercises in therapy, I felt embarrassed that my shoulder blade winged out under the slightest pressure of lifting a three-pound handweight. When I reached for something above my head, my right arm laid limp and useless beside me. Even the weight of my own arm was too much for my shoulder to handle as I had to assist it upwards with the help of my uninjured arm. The frustration was endless, but I kept telling myself to trust in my body’s ability to heal and to be kind to it in its weakened state.

Over months of work, I slowly climbed the weight stack. I learned to recognize the smallest of signs of progression; Reaching for a bowl without having to assist with my good arm or bringing my hands to touch overhead during yoga were celebratory feats. The gratitude I had for the human body’s musculo-skeletal system grew with every menial task I was able to accomplish.

Almost a year later, I still catch myself babying my shoulder, afraid to undo any prograss I had made or, worse, reinjure it. With kindness and trust in my body’s abilities to heal and grow stronger, I am back on the weight room floor, setting personal records and attacking new highs with more intesity than every before. I relish in my abilities to do an unassisted pull up and hold a flexed arm hang for moments at a time. Just months ago, asking my shoulder to support such movements was laughable. I am not at 100% recovery, but I am very close. The progress is still slow, but that is okay.The lessons I’ve learned along this path have been worth the frustration. I’ve learned to be patient with as my muscles would only let me inch forward no matter how badly I wanted to leap. My ability to let go has been tested as I never discovered where the nerve damage came from, and I probably never will. I embrace that my body is the only one I will ever live in and I must treat is with love, compassion and care in order for it to bring me through a (hopefully) long, strong and healthy life!

We Are Walking Billboards of Ourselves

As I am in the midst of growing my business and developing my future as a wellness/nutrition/fitness/etc figure, I am always aware that I am a walking billboard for what I have to offer. In order to have clients to choose to work with me, I must demonstrate to them a desirable lifestyle that can be achieved under my guidance. The importance of fully practicing what I preach is tenfold- how could I expect someone else to respect my word if I show no respect to it in the first place?

Even as a non business owner, every person is a manifestation of his or her own beliefs, actions, morals and values. As much as we may try not to judge a book by its cover, first appearance, attitude and behavior is held highly accountable for forming an idea of who someone truly is at his or her core.We are all our own walking advertisements of what we have to offer to the world.

Not everyone is trying to sell a lifestyle or attempting to attract clients, but with Facebook, free blogging platforms and the like, every person, no matter what their celebrity or non-celebrity status, has the opportunity to present themselves to the world. Through photos we post of ourselves, “about me” sections we write and interests we list, we create a snapshot of who we are and invite others to perceive us accordingly. Even portraying an attitude of “I don’t give a **** what you think about me” speaks volumes as to who someone is and how he or she would like to be seen as.Having conclusions drawn upon us based on what we choose to show others is inevitable, unavoidable and inescapable. So what is the lesson?

Respect yourself and others will show you the same respect in return. Living life consciously makes time on Earth much more enjoyable; the alternative is to idly watch time pass, opting out of any enjoyment or any other emotional experience life has to offer. Choosing to be aware of what is important to us, how our actions may affect others and valuing ourselves through self-respect creates an accurate picture of who we really are. We get what we give, in this world. With that being understood, why not give the best that we have so that only the best can come back to us?

The Day I Went Postal on the Scale

The first installment in a series unraveling “my story…”  This process’ purpose is for reflection on past experiences in order to dig out the positive messages and lessons from the negative rubble…

Most 13 year old girls obsess about 13 year old boys, dreamy tweeny-bopper stars, the latest school bus gossip and what flavor Lip Smackers they bought at the store. As trivial as these fixations were, I would have given anything to have been stuck on the Justin Biebers of my day rather than what plagued me for years to come…

Wake up… get on the scale

Use the bathroom… get on the scale

Eat breakfast… get on the scale

Come home from school… get on the scale

Use the bathroom… get on the scale

Abstain from food and drink for hours… get on the scale…

An estimated 2.7% of girls between 13 and 18 years old suffer from eating disorders. -National Institude of Mental Health (NIMH)

From the age of 13, I became a statistic. How much I weighed and how little I ate were of utmost importance; I subconsciously grasped for a semblance of control somewhere… anywhere in my life.

My body image issues began early on and, although the core issues surpassed the superficiality of looks, I became obsessed with the number on the scale. I allowed a primitive piece of equipment rule my emotions and bar me from happiness, as the number never seemed to satisfy. If the number was too high, I failed; if it stayed the same, my efforts to bring the number down were useless; if it were lower than expected, it fed into the weight loss obsession- there was no winning situation. By day’s end, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to have stepped on and off of that device of personal torture upwards towards twenty times. I was no longer a person- I was an object.

Fast forward to today…

I look back at the days where a literal tenth of a pound reduced me to tears.  Bringing home an A+ on a paper or receiving first chair as a 7th grade flutist in the 8th grade band held no importance;no matter what I had managed to accomplish in my day, nothing could define me more than that plastic measuring device.

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that it happened, but a switch flipped within me, shedding light on the hopelessness of my attempts to let a needle on a wheel of numbers define my “goodness.” Although I still fought a long path to recovery after this moment, I thank my lucky stars to have relinquished the obsession with the scale when I had.

I don’t remember the last time I stepped on a scale. When I go to to the doctors’ for a checkup, I insist on facing away from the display and request the number not be shared with me. I don’t remember what the last reading said, nor do I remember the exact moment when I decided “never again!” I do, however, remember the ceremonial moment in which I took a hammer to the cheap “Health-o-Meter” scale, channeling every last frustration it has ever given as I bludgeoned it to smithereens. 

Now, as a personal trainer and a holistic health coach, I preach against the use of numbers to show progress. I favor measurements in terms of energy levels, mood stability and the fit of clothing (not the actual size). Due to erratic changes in water weight, the heaviness of muscle trumping that of fat, hormonal levels in the body, etc, I don’t see such a volatile number as a fair way to determine body composition or, on a deeper level, self-worth, at all. Scales are for fish, not for humans.

Constantly a work in progress, I have morphed my sense of self far away from what my weight is. The people I affect, the changes I create, the smiles I cause are all much more indicative of self-worth than any number would ever be able to tell. The day I destroyed my scale was not the day my battle ended, but it was absolutely a landmark moment in my life in which I refused to be defined by such a worthless measurement. Even though the illness falsely made me believe I had everything in perfect order, going ape on the rectangular white scale with the bold black and red numberswas the moment I reclaimed some actual control over my out-of-control, food/image/perfection driven life.

Laughing at Myself

All week my head spun with a mental tape of a lengthy to-do list. “Send this email, contact that person, put together the workshop, prepare marketing material for those events…” My stress levels were palpably heightened as I found I had to constantly remind myself to use the full capacity of my lungs; my breathing kept reverting back to a shallow anxiety-ridden panting that kept me in a consistent state of panic. The only time this was a non-issue was when I allowed myself to go for a run to clear my head.

My schedule this week had been so erratic that my regular gym routine, the biggest source of tension relief, was compromised (but, practicing Zumba choreography and running when the weather permitted satisfied my exercise needs). I found myself snapping at Biscuit (when all she was doing was being a dog); found myself projecting my frustrations on to the kids I took care of (when all they were doing was being teenage boys); found myself losing my patience with my mom and dad (when all they wanted to know was how my day was). My normally upbeat, positive energy reeked of negativity and was effecting my physiology and my world around me….Then, I hit a curb and my tire popped.

At first, I felt the knee-jerk “why me?!” reaction, to which I’ve always known to be wildly unproductive- So, instead I turned to laughter.

I laughed at the fitting-ness of situation.

I laughed at the irony of having bought an emergency can of Fix-a-Flat to keep in my trunk, just that morning.

I laughed as I attempted to fill the tire with said product, and watching the white sealant spew from a two inch gash that was clearly unable to be plugged with a liquid product.

I laughed at the just-in-case tire in my trunk with the rusty, beyond-bent rim that rattled my car when taken above 30 mph.

I laughed at the fact that even though I am a “gym rat” and lift heavy weights, I couldn’t, for the life of me, loosen the lug nuts from the tire.

I laughed even harder as the boy from AAA was able to spin off the lug nuts with ease, even though I was certain my arms held more muscle than his.

I laughed because if I didn’t, I would have exploded, much like the deflated tire that had collapsed itself into a rubber puddle beside my car.

Every negative experience has a potential positive lesson hidden within it. For the first time all week, I was able to be still, having a legitimate reason to be unable to make it to any appointments/meetings/to-dos. AAA had estimated a 90-minute wait period, which translated to a precious 90 minutes of welcomed quiet time, alone in my car. I made the necessary phone calls, rearranging appointments, making my schedule much more manageable for my time and my sanity. I rummaged through my purse for my iPod, finding an open package of gum and the bottle of nail polish I had thrown in there in case I had ever gotten a moment to apply it…

So, I sat alone in my car, chewing my gum, polishing my nails and listening to a recording on my iPod I had put on my to-do list to review. I kicked my feet up on the dashboard, blowing on the fresh coat of fast-dry nail varnish, thoroughly enjoying the high synchronicity of the unplanned moment. I completed some paperwork I had left unfinished and even threw out the trash that had been collecting to embarrassingly large amounts. My lengthy to-do list was quickly becoming a done-list as I scratched off the little tasks I was completing.

Car troubles and other unexpected disturbances are usually cause for distress. I chose to change the perspective of which I looked at my situation and ended up laughed all the way to the solutions to my problems. I finally got back to my house, greeted by concerned parents asking if I was alright, expressing their sympathies to a normally upsetting situation. They knew I had been particularly on edge that week and they expected this to topple me over. I took a deep breath, smiled, and said “It was exactly what I needed.”

Bye Bye Happy Pills

Part of being human means to feel human emotions. Each, whether they be positive,  negative or neutral, is a gift to be appreciated, no matter how difficult some may be to feel. I am thankful to be able to experience a full range of emotions from extreme, violent rage and utterly depressive sadness to joyously delightful excitement and sheer happiness (preferably not all at once nor in immediate succession).

Today marks a big day for me- over the past two months, I have taken it upon myself to finally taper off an antidepressant I had been on since my early teenage years. Despite my mother’s pleads not to, I innately felt it was the right thing to do; ten years is long enough to have this chemical in my body.

I went about this pragmatically and cautiously. I gradually decreased the dosage a week or two at a time and paid very close attention to my body and mind. Initially, I felt waves of anxiety come and go and as a knee jerk reaction, I thought it must be an adverse reaction. I feared that my body had become so dependent on this chemical that my brain would never be able to functionally create its own serotonin balance.

“Breathe!” - I demanded to myself (something everyone could do more of). I realized I had been psyching myself out and creating a self-fulfilling prophecy by expecting the worst to happen. I noticed that I was so afraid of feeling anxious that I was, in turn, creating more anxiety within myself! I was cyclically damning myself and if I ever wanted to successfully be free of taking those daily pills, I would have to trust that my able body and mind would be just fine without them!

Long story short, today was the first day completely off of the antidepressant. Over the past few weeks, my smile never left me and my anxiety never crippled me. It may be the reverse-placebo effect of knowing the medicine is not in my body, but I feel like I am thinking clearer, feeling stronger and laughing harder.

I think back to when I was first adjusting to the highest dose of the “happy-pills” I was put on and hated the numbness it made me feel. I remember hating that I couldn’t cry if I wanted to, couldn’t act on my anger if it was necessary, couldn’t feel the whole range of happiness/sadness/frustration/rage.

Sure, the depression was gone and I am thankful that the medicine did its job, but the anti-emotional side effects were something I was not willing to accept for the rest of my life. I want tears to stream down my face when I watch a sad movie, I want to be so excited about a new opportunity that I leap in the air, I want to feel.

It’s often said that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. For ten years my emotions were suppressed in favor of a clinically stabilized state-today I reclaim my right to my ups, my downs, my smiles, my frowns, and everything in between.

**Disclaimer: I am NOT a physician and would highly recommend anyone who is thinking about discontinuing medications to consult with their physician/psychiatrist as there are adverse side effects that may occur if not done correctly**

Sorry for Passing Judgment

It’s happened to just about everyone before: You wave a car past you and the driver neglects to give the appreciative hand signal, you hold open a door for complete strangers as they obliviously walk past without so much as a head nod, you stop traffic for a group of teenagers can safely cross the road only to watch them take their sweet time shuffling past, still texting on their cellphones. These things happen to me, almost on a daily basis. I can choose to react in one of two ways: I can get angry and decide they are ungrateful *******s, or I can give them the benefit of the doubt, assuming they may be having an off-day.

All too often, as human beings, we pass judgment on others before we even get a chance to think twice. As many times as we’ve been told not to judge a book by its cover, it really is instinctual to assess someone based on their looks and/or mannerisms. Upon giving someone the once over, we create stories about them in out minds: where they’re from, how they act, their values, if we are “better” than them or not.

Thoughts, albeit as powerful as they may be, are harmless unless taken to the next step. I could go in to a passionate activist rant here, but this is not what this platform is intended to be.  I strive to pass as little judgment as possible on people because, let’s face it, there are times when I hope others don’t judge me based on how I look/dress/act on first sighting- do unto others as you’d want done unto you.

I’m certain there have been days when I’ve been so blinded by something that had angered/frustrated/saddened me that I had forgotten to wave at someone kind enough to let me merge on to the highway or that I had completely overlooked the stranger who took his time to hold the door open for me to pass through- this is not the person I am (I hope).

On a majority of occasions, I’m grateful, courteous and polite but, like any other person with emotions, I have my occasional bad days interspersed with the good that effect my actions/outward moods. From this realization, I am able to take a moment before I pass judgment on others and call on another set of human abilities: compassion and empathy.

At the end of it all, I am the only person that really suffers from passing judgment on these people that may never appear in my life again. I can be angry/annoyed/disgusted by someone’s behavior, or I can take a deep breath, smile, and assume that the “jerk” that just flew by without so much as a “thank you” had just stepped in a big ol’ pile of dog poop just after getting his fancy new shoes shined.

Linked by Exercise

The room was filled with buzzing energy. Sweat glistened off every body in the crowd. The music pumped through the speakers as hips shook, swiveled and shimmied. It was a diverse group- aged early 20s to mid 60s, tall, short, petite, heavier set.. all was accounted for and no matter who they were or how they looked, each and every person was smiling ear to ear, letting the music move them…. all on a Friday morning.

As everyone on Facebook knows, I was at Zumba instructor training all day yesterday. The eight hour long event embodied everything that I love about the fitness industry- a room filled with people all there with a common goal, a shared interest, a similar passion- to challenge personal limits and to spread the exciting energy of moving the body. Even though it was a studio filled with strangers, we all were connected through a special bond that needed no explanations nor introductions.

It truly is a testament to the nonjudgmental attitude a health/wellness professional attempts to maintain. The benefits and love for fitness never discriminates based on shape, size, race, nor gender. Every body, as long as it is human, is meant to move and when exercise ups the heart rate, those feel good chemicals stimulate the brain, bringing levity and happiness to chronically stressed and depressed lives.

Every day that I’ve worked on building my wellness business or challenged my body with exercise, I am reminded how thankful I am that I found my calling in fitness and health. It was always a fear of mine to have a job that I dreaded clocking in for and in this industry, I never once had to face that fear. Doing what I love makes “work” not feel like work at all. Through this passion, I’ve met some of the most wonderfully motivating and positive people and found a second home at my gym (that I’m certain everyone is tired of me raving about) that at times feels more familiar than my own house.

Lessons From Teenagers

For the past 16 months, I have been a nanny/mother’s helper to two teenage boys. I must admit, it is a cushy job- No diapers to change, no disastrous messes to clean up after and, lucky enough, both boys have hearts of gold with stellar behaviors. The only nuisance I have to deal with every once in a while is to break up the occasional fight over whose turn it is to walk to puppy (to which I often end up taking responsibility for, myself). 

Over the short period I’ve known and cared for these kids, I have seen them take on new challenges and grow through them. I watched as the younger boy graduated from middle school and entered his first year of high school. I observed as his older brother stressed over SATs and college prep, went through hours of driving lessons and, most recently, got his drivers license.  

No doubt, I am grateful for the job I have that supplements my income as I grow my YOUfit brand, but today’s post is about more than the gratitude I have for this part time job. Seeing these boys five days a week for hours each day, I feel like I have become part-time mom to them. This in itself continues to reveal valuable lessons on a daily basis, but today my eyes were opened to something I was told I could never understand until I had children of my own…

The older of the two boys was given instruction and permission by his mother to drive to the store to pick up a birthday cake for his brother. Instinctually, I wanted to ride along with him to make sure he would be okay. Not wanting to insult or undermine his newfound ability to drive, I resisted. My next thought was to discretely follow him with my car, remaining a mile behind, unknownst to him. Again, I resisted.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he was a highly cautious teenager. I would not have to worry about his wreckless driving- it was the other nuts on the road I was worried about, after all. As he grabbed the keys and checked for money in his wallet, I found myself demanding his undivided attention as I instructed him to “be careful and make sure to text me as soon as he got back home to let me know he was ok.” At that moment, I recognized my parents’ words coming out of my mouth…

When I first learned to drive, I rolled my eyes every time my dad always sent me off with a reminder to be careful. I brushed off the importance of letting my mom know when I got to the mall okay. I was a typical kid! But, here I was, feeding this teenage boy the same exact parental lines I had scoffed at just years ago. Suddenly, they didn’t seem so laughable.

I got to the gym, where I still am now, and watched the clock. I went to and from the locker room, checking my phone for a text that said I could stop worrying. Thirty minutes passed… nothing. An hour passed… still nothing. Finally, I called him to ease my nerves. Oblivious to my concerns, he casually picked up his phone, thankfully alive. I breathed a sigh of relief, gave him a half hearted scold for not texting me when he got back to the house, hung up and finished my workout. Sure, kids will be kids, but eventually, we all grow up and, hopefully, if we’re lucky, we get the opportunity to see things from the perspectives of our silly, overbearing parents.

Today's Gift

With 10 minutes left in the day, I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss today’s gratitude blog. I’ll keep this extra short and simple as I am certain it will come up again in the future in much more detail.

“Tomorrow” is not always guaranteed but when it does come, I seldom express my gratitude towards it. When I wake from a full night’s sleep, I feel refreshed by the energy of a new day. No matter if the day before had brought me anger, fright, heartache or sorrow, having fully recharged my batteries overnight, I can move forward and leave those emotions in “yesterday.”

This is not an excuse to put off til tomorrow what can be done today nor is it an excuse not to live in the present- I avoid procrastination and embrace the now to the best of my abilities. This does not mean there is no place toappreciate the gift of a new day. So tonight, as I lay my sleepy head down to rest, I will kiss today’s challenges and troubles goodnight and leave them behind as I drift off towards tomorrow.

Sniffing Flowers

Spring time paints nature’s canvas with vibrant colors of blossoms, awakened plants and revived leaves. As I walked Biscuit this morning, I took a valuable lesson from her. At first, I got slightly annoyed that she would stop every five steps to explore a new scent or unmarked territory. I tugged at the leash, trying to get her to continue forward, but she persistently diverted her attention away from the path. “Come on Biscuit!” I half-heartedly scolded at her, to which she gazed up at me with big brown eyes that begged, “Mom.. slow down. Sniff the roses with me.”

Just because I am human- allegedly the superior species, does not mean that lessons from dogs and nature are invalid. This morning, my dog directed my attention to what became today’s Mind-Body Gratitude topic: flowers.

As silly as it may sound to be thankful for flowers, just like anything else in this world, they offer a lesson to be learned upon close enough examination. Sure, like many others, I love receiving a bouquet of fragrant blooms or a single, pristine, long stemmed red rose, but my focus today is on the less obvious beauty of flowers; today, I celebrate their effortlessness.

I walked past a sprinkling of tiny periwinkle flowers that has sprung from the sidewalk. Regarded as weeds, these gorgeous petaled growths needed no man-made fertilizer, trimming, nor any other form of fuss, yet their beauty was unmistakable.

In a beauty obsessed society, men and women pluck, snip, paint, spray and suture in pursuit of a perceived perfect appearance. So much effort goes in to looking and feeling one’s best that the simple answers are often thrown by the way side. With the proper self-care and inward compassion, each person’s beauty can shine through. The flower instinctively grows towards the sun, knowing that it is a basic need in order to thrive.

True, in this day and age, it is more difficult to live the simple life. The pressures of finance, illness and hardship strains the ability to  metaphorically turn to the sun, allowing health to find us. What we can do, however, is take a hint from the simplicity of an effortlessly vibrant flower, and do the things that we instinctively know are good for our health: eat wholesome foods, get adequate rest, drink plenty of water, move around more, laugh and play. These are the makings of human livelihood. These are the simple keys to optimal health and happiness. Allow your body to accept the benefits of these primal needs. Stop tugging at your own leash and let your body tell you what it needs. The most beautiful things in life cannot be forced- they can, however, be allowed to just happen.