Tag Archives: Image

{Soft in Unexpected Places…}

 

With how busy life has been of late, I usually do not give myself a minutes thought but today, as I was running through the Charlotte, NC airport, to catch my next flight, I thought back to earlier this morning and the emotions I was feeling.  I felt completely unsettled.

 In the midst of my morning beauty routine, I stopped and stared at myself in the mirror in a way that I have not done in ages.  As ridiculous as this may sound, it shocked me at how much my body has changed. Not necessarily in a bad way but in a way that tells me that I am getting older. Why didn’t I take notice of this before?  Now mind you, I’m nowhere near the age where I need to start worrying about my own mortality but lately I can’t seem to reconcile the age that I feel I am emotionally with the  age that I know I am biologically.   

As I continued to stare at my reflection, I couldn’t deny that I am softer, yes, and a bit more fragile than I remember.  My skin seems more translucent, less forgiving.  Although I believe I take good care of this temple I call my body, I must say it wouldn’t hurt to treat it with more care.  Pamper it a bit more.  Mistreat it a lot less.  This body is my home and if I plan to live in it for a long while, it’s best that I start thinking of putting this body on a serious maintenance plan.

Be well my darlings!

xoxo

 

 

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How I Lost My Battle to Those Dreaded, Wicked Chicken Fries

bk_chicken-fries_hero
Let’s just call it what it is – a lack of self-control. It was all I can do to maintain my fabulous size 6 va-va-voom-ness and then I go and throw it all away by going to the greasy, dark side of fast food. Hello size 8.

I am an emotional eater and when things get pitifully ugly, all my reasoning heads south and I indulge in foods that are probably not helping the body beautiful.

Most of my days are filled with your normal activities & angst; Wake up, meditate, exercise, de-ugly, dress me up, obsess in front of the mirror, feed the dog, kiss The Husband, make a mad dash for the car and put the pedal to the metal so that I can make it to work on time but still make the necessary pit stops in between. Make a quick stop at Star-bees (Starbucks), call the assistant, review the day’s schedule, speed-dial the fam & friends for a quick hello/have a great day, pull up to the office, slather on my war paint and smack on a smile before I face the office troops. Whew! And this is all before 8 a.m.

So needless to say, by lunch time, if my VERY last nerve has been jumped on by some woeful, unsuspecting soul, look out. There I am, skulking to my car before anyone sees me (ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies), huge oversized sunglasses on my face, sitting low in my car seat so as not to be seen going through BK’s drive-thru. Next thing you know, I’m sitting in BK’s parking lot, munching on these wicked little fries. Yes, my dirty little secret are those greasy, breaded, fried (read: yummy) chicken fries. I curse the day they created those things. Now I have to hit the tread (mill) twice as hard because of this newly found weakness of mine.

Sigh. Well, I guess there is nothing else I can do for now except to embrace my ample, GROWING, butt. Heh!

The Death of My Junk Food Cravings

There is absolutely nothing that will have me running for the gym faster than an ugly fight to the death with my SPANX. The stupid contraption would not hold me in nicely and the unsightly bulge had me running away from the full length mirror in horror. Mind you, to the average onlooker, I may look like your average size 8 but if there is some wiggle around my middle, that means I have a pooch problem. So, that being said, it’s time to find a gym.

Now, working out is not a pleasurable experience for me, which I’m sure will resonate with many women, but as soon as I felt that dreaded jiggle when I walked….well let’s just say I kissed Ben & Jerry’s good-bye and I now put as much distance between me and the frozen food aisle as possible when at the supermarket.

Sigh. I so will miss the days when I was able to eat whatever my little heart desired and not gain a smidge of weight. Gone are the days that I didn’t have to think about the consequences of eating this or that. Sadly, those lovely days are over. No more Jerry Garcia or Phish food while watching the Lifetime Movie Channel, no more Jelly Belly’s during Dateline, no more late night pepperoni pizza during CSI Miami and definitely no more Ho Hos during The Real Housewives of New York City marathons. It was wonderful while it lasted but then Father Time decided to remind me that I was not going to be a spring chicken forever and to prove his nasty point, I noticed that my skin no longer snaps back as quickly as it used to and the “girls” no longer feel like they need to stand up straight. Yes, the quicker I find an exercise boot camp, the better.

The first gym I visited was for women only. One look around told me everything I wanted to know. As soon as I walked through those doors I noticed that every woman looked as though they had lost the battle against Sara Lee (read: pound cake and yummy goodness) and perhaps their wrinkle cream had been recalled. Seriously, I’m all for aging gracefully but sometimes Mother Nature needs a little assistance. So the Geritol gym was crossed off my list. I had no desire to be constantly reminded of the “senior years” which is looming eerily ahead of me. My grandmother is an elegant and beautiful woman and she would rather fade away than to look like some of these poor, wretched souls. They unfortunately looked as if they had given up the good fight and were only going through the motions. I am so not going down that road.

After a long, exhausting day of searching for a gym, the fourth location I visited was the charm. Great facility and amenities, the staff was eager and ready to push me to my fitness best and Mr. Muscle Guy behind the juice bar looked as though he were ready to whip me up a healthy smoothie quicker than I can say fatty patty.

Now don’t get too excited. I am not saying that I am ready to embrace the health craze movement but perhaps my body will thank me later (and I mean way later) by giving me a backside that I can bounce a quarter off of. Heh!

Curly Is the New Blonde

(This is not my hair)

Who said blondes have more fun? Not this Latina. I am astounded at the reaction and response I’ve received since going curly. If I had known that this change was going to fabulously impact my life, I would have done this sooner. To think that all of this time I had been fighting my inner curly head. I fought it vigorously.

All my life I’ve tortured my hair with relaxers, potions, lotions, blowers, flat irons and perhaps even a Voodoo dance or two to keep this mane of mine from turning into a Chia Pet catastrophe. Although I’ve admired many a curly head from time to time, from how liberated they looked to how wildly sexy, never in a million years did I imagine I would want to join the curly head club and become one of “them”. And yet, I made the leap. I now stand courageous and curly.

Being a curly head has prompted in me a sassiness I never knew I possessed. I feel playful, outspoken and insanely creative. Seductive in unimaginable ways and outlandishly daring. I now feel liberated from the constraints of the daily straight hairdo. I no longer have the need to follow the protocol of the corporate rat race with a look that’s professionally restraining and subdued. My curls had been screaming to be set free and I’ve now decided to submit to its natural rhythm. And from the looks of things, the masses are delighted that I finally decided to do me.

Skinny Friends – Fat Self

Trying to stay confident all the time is exhausting business.  Although I would say I could afford to lose a couple of pounds (ok, maybe just a tad bit more than a few – whatever), I sure came away feeling like Miss Piggy Snorty Snort recently when I went out for Girl’s Night with three fabulously gorgeous friends.  Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have given my weight a second thought but on this particular evening, all I kept thinking about was on how my thighs rubbed uncomfortably together whenever I would cross and uncross them, how some particular body parts felt like they were shooting the knees, or how having a pooch is no longer endearing, no matter what the husbster says.  Needless to say, the appetizers we decided to partake in barely got a second glance from me except for a taste here and there.  And trust me, I was EXTREMELY hungry.  Extremely hungry = unhappy Josie!  And worse, they all stated that they were stuffed from these small, measly little plates of nothing.  Seriously??  You’re stuffed??  No freakin way! 

 

That’s it. Momma’s hitting the gym PRONTO!!!  Hmph!