What Magazine Headlines are Really Saying

Statistics show that magazine covers highlighting weight loss articles or features like "best and worst bodies" sell more copies. Although men aren't exempt, female targeted magazines are littered with these your-body-isn't-good-enough messages and we, as women, snatch them off the shelves with the hopes that this issue holds the magical answer to the ever-elusive body-happiness we are constantly in search for. 

We thumb through the pages, read the article, see the same diets of weighed and measured out bits of boring foods, see pictures of smiling women who have found bliss after losing such and such amount of weight and wonder what the heck is wrong with us that after one week, the scale hasn't budged, much less shown a decrease of 20 pounds. 

It won't be our smiling faces in those perfectly sculpted "after" pictures. Nope. We're perpetually stuck in the "before" frame. But, clearly, we're at fault here. 

I call shenanigans!

How can we possibly begin to start feeling good about ourselves as long as the media tells us we are in need of change in order to be whole? 

It's unfortunate that because of the numbers, the sales driven media will continue to plaster their glossy pages with the same negatively charged message hidden as secrets to happiness over and over. After all, they are businesses and need to give their readers what they want. 

Unfortunately, "Lose 20lbs By Friday" sells more copies than "Don't Change, You're Perfect." 

Yes, I'm a nutrition counselor and a personal trainer. Yes, I am in the industry of reshaping bodies and a great deal of my clients have weight loss in the forefront of their minds. 

But, I always start with reshaping the mind. 

Only when the mind is healed, the negative self-talk stops, and external messages are filtered out can real change begin. Otherwise, any attempted work is superficial, literally and figuratively, and it won't last. 

In my practice, I always preach self-love and self-acceptance. 

Because we are all whole, complete and perfect, just as we are. 

And no amount of weight gained or lost will ever change that. 

Why Chicken Soup is So Good for You

There's no doubt that certain foods are more emotionally charged than others. The tastes, smells, textures bring back memories and conjure up feelings specific to when you had that dish for the first time. Even though "cozy" is not a spice in the cupboard, certain meals definitely have an extra dash of coziness in them. 

Mama's chicken soup. 

As I finished off a big bowl for lunch, I thought, "What is it that makes this soup so darn amazing??" 

Sure, the nutritionist in me thinks of all the nutrient dense vegetables and healing properties of the bone broth. Mom even throws in whole knobs of ginseng for an added stress-busting boost.

But, there's something more to this magical soup that just makes me feel oh-so-wonderful. 

Putting my nutritionist hat aside, I begin to realize why "Mom's chicken soup" is always the go-to comfort food for so many people. Yes, we can discuss the benefits of the added fluids, sodium, vitamins, protein, blah blah blah, but I think it would be doing the great soups of moms everywhere a great disservice if we overlook the most healing ingredient of them all: LOVE

::Roll eyes, scoff, "yeah, yeah, yeah"::

Ok, maybe this is a bit on the crunchy-holistic side, but hear me out!

When the weather is cold and rainy or if I'm just not quite feeling physically up to par, chicken soup off the supermarket shelf just won't do the trick. Something about the processed, uniform bits floating in a tin can doesn't make me feel like eating it will make me feel any better. 

But, sit me down in front of a steamy serving of the day-long, homemade, rustic stuff and relief is only a spoonful away! 

The difference, here, is knowing Mom had been in the kitchen chopping the vegetables, trimming the chicken, layering the flavors and tending to the pot. The amount of detail that goes in to even the simplest of soups is bolstered by the sentiment that time was put in to peeling every carrot, slicing each celery stalk and tasting every step of the way to ensure it comes out just-so. That is the love I was referring to. That is the love that completes every bowl. 

Yes, it is important to eat whole foods that are nutrient dense, take a multivitamin, etc and so on, but there are more things that feed us other than food, itself. The magical ability for Mom's Chicken Soup to lift my spirits and give me a hug from the inside is proof that food is not the only place we seek nourishment. 

Happy eating!

Another Reason to Work Out

Exhale, lift, squeeze, hold, release, inhale, pause....

I was so lost in my meditative state, mid bicep curl, I didn't even notice a friend standing a mere few feet behind me, waving for my attention. 

This is why working out is my escape. 

The mind-body connection is, undoubtedly, highly important to pay attention to in order to avoid injury when lifting weights, but often overlooked is its incredibly centering, calming and empowering potential. It is meditation in motion with an added muscle-challenging intensity.

There are many things that drive my work outs and I've touched on them more than once throughout my relatively young blog. I've gone over why I choose not to work out for the calorie-burning effect, the amazing bond shared in a group fitness class, and the joys of trying something new, among other reasons. This reason is more quiet and strength driven. 

When I train clients, I try my best to make sure they understand the reasons for why they are performing a certain exercise. I don't care so much that they can lift something up and put something down- that's all well and good, but we'd both be doing each other a great disservice if I were just being paid to watch that happen. 

I want clients to understand what muscle they are working and why it matters. I want them to focus on the contraction and relaxation of the muscle fibers and mentally hone in on the firing of the nerves. I want them to not only strengthen their skeletal muscle, but their mind-body connection muscle as well. Working out then becomes a total experience.

Within the 24 hours of our day, there is already far too many actions that we mindlessly move through the motions of. Most of our days are spent on autopilot as we repeat the same things, follow the same schedules and carry out the same tasks, day in and day out. Personally, I believe we can all benefit from daily practice of being in the moment, even if only for a few minutes at a time. 

It would all do us good to learn to slow everything down and just breathe. 

But, I get a lot of scoffs when I try to get people to actually take time to sit. And breathe. and do nothing else. 

Sometimes, I don't even have the patience for that. 

So this is my alternative when I'm not trying my darndest to practice seated meditation. 

Exhale, lift, squeeze, hold, release, inhale, pause....

Strengthening my mind as I strengthen my body with every rep, every set, every workout. 

There's nothing like it. 

Ahhh....

Feeling Fat?

How are you feeling? 

"I feel angry."

"I feel sad." 

"I feel happy." 

"I feel scared"

... All valid answers to the question at hand.

"I feel fat."

...Not so much. 

FAT IS NOT A FEELING. 

Feelings describe our state of emotion, not our state of appearance, and even if they did, I'd reason to say that bodily mass surely didn't develop overnight to suddenly create exacerbated sense of "fatness." 

It makes just as much sense to say "I feel fat" as it does to say "I feel purple." 

There's something more being said in this "feeling fat" statement- a lowered sense of self-esteem, a heightened self-consciousnesses, a harsher self-judgment... "feeling fat" definitely has an all around negative connotation. 

My main concern when I hear this statement, however, is not the identifying of oneself with this negative feeling, but more so identifying of oneself by a physical attribute (or perception of one). 

We are more than out appearance. 

Who we are is a compilation of our talents and hobbies, our likes and dislikes, the impact we make on others and the world- the way we look is, by definition, a superficial way to identify ourselves. 

Looks are fleeting; so much so that they can be changed through diet and exercise, plastic surgery and makeup. 

Personality and who we are at our core is everlasting. 

No amount of lipstick or designer clothing can beautify a bad attitude. 

Similarly, no amount of extra body weight or bad hair days can keep a bright, positive disposition from shining through. 

The next time we hear ourselves say we feel fat, let's dig deeper and find out what's really going on... What are we missing? What message are we really trying to get across? 

When I hear "I feel fat," accompanied by sad eyes and a wounded whimper, I know what I'm really hearing is more akin to, "I am feeling down on myself and could really use a hug." 

Of course, there are days when "feeling fat" can be accredited to overdoing sugar and salt intake the day before and the body physically retains more water... but, that's what elastic waist pants and flowy tops were made for. 

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!

Keeping the Enthusiasm

The little white dog kept her nose in a dirt pile, paying us no mind as we neared her lawn. Biscuit stepped on a branch, snapping it beneath her paw. 

She saw us.  

Her whole body perked up in attention and suddenly, the dirt pile held little importance compared to this stranger and her human. 

Off she bolted, frustratingly confined by the invisible fence her human had installed to keep her from running away. She reached the end of the zone, pivoted and sprinted back to where she had begun, the whole time keeping her eyes fixated on us as we stood still, watching her furiously dart back and forth, back and forth, yapping, yapping, yapping. 

I laughed at the tiny fluffy pup and her silliness, but at the same time, envied her ability to be so explosively excited at the most minute happening. My dog and I offered her nothing but stimulation, yet her tail enthusiastically wagged off in a tizzy, no holds barred. 

In the sheer simplicity of the yappy creature's joy, I realized how much more enjoyable life would be if we all allowed ourselves to feel such extreme happiness at the simple things in life.

I'm not advocating we do back-flips every time a new person passes by- there is a certain level of decorum humans (sometimes sadly) must adhere to. I remember being "spoken to" by a superior after giving a hug, complete with running start and a leap, to my boyfriend at the time, when he came to visit me at work. Apparently, this was not "acceptable" behavior. Hmph. 

Ok, so I understand (but won't always agree) that there is a time and place to express excitement at the highest volumes according to rules, codes of conduct, blah, blah, blah... But, I do think that we could all benefit from adding an extra exclamation point when expressing happiness when it strikes. 

Perhaps this means...

showing more excitement when seeing a loved one at the end of a long day,

or

not suppressing the sheer feel-good-ness that comes from a great workout,

or 

wearing a full-on smile as opposed to a weak grin when someone takes a moment to pay a compliment.

It truly is the little things in life that have the potential to make the biggest impact. Allowing ourselves to be happy and feel joy on the highest possible level is an important part of taking care of ourselves and our well-being. 

Smiling, laughing, expressing happiness offers levity to the entire body, mind and spirit... it's like giving ourselves a big, cuddly hug, from the inside-out. Why would we ever put a limitation on that?  

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. 

Choose Happiness

At every moment, we are responsible for exactly where we are and where we are not in life, how we feel, what we have and do not have and how we choose to perceive our surroundings and situations. 

Responsibility sucks.

Hang on. Let’s adjust this thought. 

Responsibility is empowering.

To helplessly throw hands up in the air is admitting defeat.

Surrendering to feeling things that aren’t ideal, rolling over and pouting over being unhappy with where/how/who we are at the moment- living the “it is what it is” mentality in general, is a cop out. Don’t like it? Change it. 

Yes, the Serenity Prayer’s preaching of accepting that there is only so much we can control and letting go of that which we cannot is still valid, but far too often, we skew the ratios, doing ourselves a major disservice. 

Happiness is a right. Choosing to be chronically miserable is just that- a choice. For the most part, we are all equipped with the ability of choice. After all, is that not one of the fundamental features of pump it means to be human? 

Erring on the side of restraint, I will choose to pump the breaks on the preaching and leave it at this: 

Take responsibility. Figure out where your joy lies and take the first step towards it. We are more powerful than we allow ourselves to believe. There is power in choice. Choose happiness. 

Lessons from a True Fighter

A middle-aged, physically fit man sat on a laptop at a nearby table outside the Starbucks I frequently use as my office. I smiled to him as he gathered his things to move to a table that offered shade from the beaming sun- “I shouldn’t really be in the sun, anyways.” he said to me. 

It was then I noticed the bruises and scrapes along his cheekbone and framing his eyes. Immediately, he picked up on my concern, pointing to the wounds, explaining that his profession as a Mixed Martial Arts fighter with a rather impressive boxing background. 

I believe that there is something to be learned from every person that crosses my path, so I perked up my ears and searched for the golden nugget.

He explained he had just won a fight and rattled off win-loss statistics from his career as a fighter- already, he had gained my respect and awe. Though I was clearly impressed, it wasn’t the fights in the ring that packed the heftiest punch- not by a long shot; matter-of-factly, Howie “the Champion” went on to recount a battle he had won two years ago with stomach cancer.

He went on to say he was on his way out of the fighting game, asking me to guess how old he was.

“I hate this game,” I replied. 

“44,” he said, slightly defeated. 

I shook my head as he identified himself as “old,” knowing just by his energy that he was far from finished with his life’s work.  

Having already handed him my business card after explaining what I do for a living, he took notice that I practiced holistic health care, going on to say that it was a holistic-medicine-touting doctor (that charged a miniscule fraction of the cost of the NY highly-esteemed oncologist) out in California that he credited his life to.

BAM! Golden nugget.

At that moment I felt endlessly validated for my choice to opt for holistic health care in my hopes to heal all of life’s wounds. 

Costing him parts of his internal organs, he refused to let cancer collect his life. He exuded pure gratitude towards his decision to go the holistic route in his recovery, easing the hesitations of my holistic-healing life-path decision, as well. 

Before me, sat a true fighter, both in the worlds of MMA/boxing and in life. From his win, he wore the bruises and cuts with pride, but it was the light of life he exuded that spoke loudest. 

I’m Back! And Reinvented!

 
I neglected my blogging for a while, but I’m back!

Perhaps it’s the back to school energy, the noticeable changing of seasons, the sudden fire lit under my career or a combination of it all, but I’m itching to write again. 

Just as my running efforts have shifted along with my workout regime, the format of my blog will follow suit. Focus will remain on the endless amounts of things to be grateful for in life and the equally abundant number of lessons readily available for absorption. Being that my profession is in health, wellness and fitness, I will be touching on that as well… likely putting my own helplessly positive spin on things.

Much has changed within these past few weeks, more than I thought I was readily able to handle; but here I sit, handling, thriving. 

Change is a necessary part of growth, life and not-getting-bored-ness. It’s not to be feared, but to be embraced… and who can’t use more embracing in their life? 

A Rambling on True Love from the Pit of My Hopelessly Romantic Heart

With nearly 7 trillion people in the world, it’s hard to believe in soul mates. Finding “the one” seems an impossible task, given the odds. I believe that there are several “ones” for every person; romantic matches of perfect compatibility are out there and we can all only be so lucky as to cross paths with one of them amongst the trillions.

I look at those who have found their true loves and it’s hard not to be at least a touch envious. Despite the ever-growing popularity of divorce and the rarity of relationships lasting beyond a handful of years, I still believe in true love and everlasting romance. How sad I feel when people debate that life-long love is dead due to extended life spans and jet-fueled libidos! Yes, life is longer, making the commitment of “til-death-do-us-part” a bit more… committal, but with the right person, why can’t that be exciting? To spend that many more years with that special someone, to me, sounds like a deal sweetener, not a deal breaker…

Call me a hopeless romantic, call me naive or shortsighted. Last month, I’ve seen my parents celebrate their 34th wedding anniversary after being together for 4 years prior. I’ve seen the fights, the divorce threats, the ugly battles. I’ve questioned their compatibility as they are polar opposites on every thinkable spectrum (in fact, I still question that). Through it all, though, through the incredibly torrential ups and downs, they continue to be eachothers’ rocks and uphold their promises to be lifelong companions, partners through thick and thin… and I am so proud to have them as my influence.

With all the negativity I hear about viewpoints of anti-marriage and those that poo-poo on love, I resist the pull to be discouraged and smile on in the hopes of finding my happily ever after. When I panic that I’m not blissfully paired up yet in the midst of my 20’s, I remind myself that there really is not rush and that I could quite possibly only be just one-fifth through my life.. or less! Here’s to love!

Pulling Out the Weeds

As I searched for paperwork in preparation for a meeting later on in the week, I dug through piles of half-filled notebooks, magazine articles clippings, miscellaneous folders and unfiled forms. How had I let this much pile up? Suddenly, the papers were no longer the focus of my foraging… it was time to declutter.

I had convinced myself that the mess in my workspace was organized clutter. Most of the times, I knew where to find things and in what general pile it was lying in. Just like the earlier years of my life, my desk was energetically chaotic and instead of bringing order and peace to the situation, I adapted as best I could. Reality was, I would sigh about losing loose scrap notes and frantically sift through piles for business cards… I finally acceptedI was in denial and decided to take action.

I spent the entirety of Sunday afternoon and evening filling a jumbo trash bag with everything I’ve held on to but didn’t really need. I felt inner resistance before releasing certain items into the garbage, but reminded myself that it was negative clutter taking up free space and energy in my surroundings and in my life. If I didn’t use it or search for it within the past few months, it must not have held that much importance in the first place… away and out of my life it went.

When I finally hit desk surface and put everything in its proper place, I immediately felt the energy shift. I felt calm and far less chaotic as I new just where to reach for a post-it note or exactly where I would find a blank consultation form. I felt like I could breathe easier.

As I dropped the filled trash bag on to the curb, I felt a cathartic release. Uprooting all that desk-clutter had yanked on a stopper, letting emotional-clutter drain away. I could only imagine how I would will feel once I combat the residual chaos in my life. How much freer will I feel? How much more positive energy will I be able to accept in to my heart? How clear I will feel!

It’s a non-question. It has to be done. It’s time to scrap all the old, stale, non-productive clutter in my life to make room for the new, positive, progress-supporting energy to come in. Life is like a garden- it needs tending to, nurturing and necessary weeding to make sure that the beautiful plants have plenty of room to grow and flourish.

Insane Behaviors

There’s a bird that repeatedly flies into a window of my house in an effort to land on a potted plant on the other side of the pane (for the purpose of my point, it will be assumed to be the same bird). Day after day, this little bird will make the same ill-fated attempt, only to pick him/herself back up and try again the next day. I do admit that I admire the determination of this tiny, winged creature, but at the same time, I wonder why the lesson hasn’t been taken that this method not only does not work, but causes pain, time after time.

As I sigh at this definitively insane bird’s feeble tries to repeat the same thing over and over again, each time expecting the result to be different, I realized my own insane behaviors and their apparent silliness if observed from an onlooker’s stance. When will I learn that there is a better way to get to the plant on the other side that doesn’t involve crashing in to the window pane? When will I give up the comforts of my not-getting-me-anywhere-routines, feel the fear of change and take the uncharted course?

As many motivational speakers say, we are our own biggest obstacles. When all excuses are exhausted and there is no one left to blame, take a look in the mirror… that is the person standing in the way. Fears of failure, being uncomfortable and the general unknown hold me back from trying a different method or route that may possibly lead me to the better, more desirable outcome. The most frustrating part of the whole situation is knowing that the way things are now arenotideal and in some casescause pain whether it be emotional or physiological. I am no better than the masochist bird, as my stubbornness keeps me relentlessly flying in to my own proverbial window pane.

I need to make the necessary adjustments in my routines in order to achieve my desired outcomes; I know this to be true. I know the changes that need to be made in my dietary habits, fitness efforts, sleeping habits and time management strategies. What’s funnier is that I know how much easier and enjoyable my life will be if I do make these tweaks, ultimately optimizing me regimes. How silly I feel weighing the pros and cons of the temporary discomfort in making positive changes versus the prolonged discomfort of remaining stagnant in my stale routines.Someone, please knock some sense in to me!

I’d like to think that as an evolved human being, I am intellectually advanced enough to make the choices that steer me from pain and unhappiness. At times like this, I understand that there is a difference between having an ability and using that ability. At the surface, choosing ultimate betterment over extended dissatisfaction seems to be a no-thought decision… perhaps the curse that humans must deal with in having this decision is the ability to think to much about it. The answer, then, is simple (and cliche): JUST DO IT! 

Simple Pleasures

I smiled as I slipped on a new pair of cotton, moisture wicking, cushioned soled socks; they felt like clean, silky clouds, hugging my feet, putting a bouncy freshness to my step. I grasped the moment and held on to it as long as I could, forgetting about the day’s annoyances, the difficult situations I had been in and the stressful decisions I had to make. All negativity dissolved as I was completely in the moment, basking in the simple pleasure of a brand new pair of socks.

Stress, sadness, anger, difficulty… these are part of what it means to be human. After all, the wonderful moments would not seem as great without the comparisons. The hope is that life is lived primarily happily with the occasional negative moment. There are some days, however, in which the bad seems to overshadow the majority of the 24 hours, sucking smiles and crushing laughter. It is these days that the smallest of joys must be captured, hung on to and fully experienced. Even on the hardest of days, life always offers simple pleasures that are easier to find when not searched for- it is then left to choice whether to acknowledge or breeze by them.

I’m not talking about moments of grandeur; I’m not alluding to the joy of a winning lottery ticket. Think small, every day happenings-

Kicking off shoes at the end of a long day or tough work out.

The instant relaxation from fresh bed sheets and the cool side of the pillow.

Catching a refreshing blast of air from an oscillating fan in a stuffy room.

The first sip of ice cold water, quenching a thirst that had been building for hours.

Relief for an overly hydrated bladder from getting to use the bathroom.

Happiness comes in many forms. At just about any given moment, no matter how terrible the situation, there is always a positive spin that can be spun. The brain appreciates when a smile is worn, treating it as an instant upper. There are little things in life that have the potential to be the big things that create happiness, if even just for a moment. Yes, tragedy, tears and aggravation all come along with what it means to be an emotion-feeling human, but with that same ability, happiness, joy and elation are also there for the taking. We should all try to exaggerate the positive moments, no matter how menial they may seem, so much so that the overshadowing gloom of negativity pales away from their brightness!

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!

The Day I Realized My Hair Was Not Straight

Every morning before kindergarten, my mom would take a blow-dryer and a round bristled brush to my hair, grooming every last strand until I was perfectly coiffed. I left the house with my locks straight and smooth, my dresses wrinkle free, my patent-leather Mary Janes shined and proper and my tights without a snag. Each morning I started the day off looking every bit the perfect, polished lady.

As hours passed, my hair would slowly lose its luster and rumple out of shape, much like my dresses. Scuff marks would appear on my previously shiny shoes and guaranteed, my tights would sport a fresh tear or, at least, a new run that stretched no less than knee to toe. As soon as my nanny got me home, I would change in to fresh clothes and attack my hair with a comb, trying my best to remove the knots and return it to the neat state my mother had sent me off to school with.

For years, I wondered why my hair was always unruly. No matter what my level of activity was during the day, it never stayed neat and straight. It became a quiet source of frustration as every Saturday at Korean school, I would see every other Korean girl’s hair reflect the light like a mirror, effortlessly hanging perfectly pin straight. What was I doing wrong?

As I entered my pre-teen years, I added magazines like Seventeen and J-14to my reading repertoire, taking high interest in the tween beauty sections. I will never forget one hair-care article featuring a picture of Mandy Moore that explained how to determine the natural texture of one’s hair. The instructions were simple: Shampoo and condition, scrunch dry with a towel, detangle with a wide-toothed comb, smooth a golf-ball sized amount of styling mousse throughout the length of the hair and let air dry, untouched-This was the first night I realized I had natural curls.

In my youth, I was only able to grasp a minute piece of the lesson held in that moment. At the time, I understood only that I no longer had to fight with the texture of my hair. It finally made sense as to why I could never keep my hair straight like the other girls could. It also became the beginning of my extensive collection of curly-hair-specific gels, sprays and styling lotions.

Today, I look back on that discovery and take a much deeper message from it all. For years prior to that moment, I had thought there was something innately unladylike about me. I thought that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be dainty like my mother. I harbored a twinge of shame within me as I felt like I was failing to be a perfectly primped daughter. Finally realizing that my hair was naturally not straight was the beginning of my drawn out development of sense of self. It was a literal portrayal of the uselessness of trying to be something I was not and the start of embracing and loving myself as I am.

To this day, I cannot keep a manicure chip-free for more than 48 hours and pantyhose is not even an option in my wardrobe. With the slightest bit of moisture in the air, my hair, despite the fact that I am genetically 100% Korean and the dominant hair-texture gene is pin straight, blows out in to a full-bodied wavy lion’s mane. Today, though, I embrace that against-the-grain-ness part of myself and wouldn’t dare fight the humidity by going at my coif with a straightening iron. I spend far less time and effort enhancing the things that I naturally am instead of trying hard to be or look like something that I am not. We hang on to memories that old certain significance to us. To me, the importance of the moment I discovered my hair to be naturally not-straight resonates throughout my daily life as I embrace my differences and create my image according to my own standards, not that of anyone else.