My Thoughts on Aging

I’ve been feeling out of sorts lately, and it always surprises me how much better I feel after writing. It’s exactly the reason I started this blog in the first place—to see my thoughts written out in a somewhat coherent way is cathartic for me. And yet, I forget how good it feels every time. My journal, (which is a little less sarcastic and has a whole lot more feelings), doesn’t require drafts or editing (except when I’m redacting my high school years for posterity’s sake), so it doesn’t have the same therapeutic effect. Believe me, if you think my blog is erratic and tangential, you should read my journal. It sounds like it’s written by 7 different people.

            So, it finally happened to me. Back in January, I turned 25. I’ve been in denial ever since. I had to rent a car the other day, and my hands started sweating when I realized I could put my own information in and not my 30-year-old sugar daddy’s info (Billy). And you know how when you subscribe to a website, they ask what age range you’re in? I’m not even in the first age category anymore. Rest in peace, 18-24.

I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, but it has really thrown me into a panic.  I threw out all of my beauty products and stocked up on anything and everything with retinol in it. I’m pretty sure I have retinol in my deodorant. I’m also toying with the idea of getting preventative Botox. A few years ago, my sister-in-law was getting certified to give facial injections of the miracle drug and offered to practice on me for free as part of her training. I completely trusted her, but I declined because I didn’t feel like I was “that kind of girl”. At the time, it seemed hypocritical to get Botox since I’ve always identified as a tomboy and didn’t obsess about top of the line makeup or expensive clothes. I always try to look good, but Target suits me just fine. But on the day I turned 25, I woke up seriously regretting my anti-chemical/surgery stance. Give me all the Botox.

I know you’re probably supposed to worry about your health your whole life, but I missed that memo. Everyone warned me, “Tanning will make you look like Yzma from the Emperor’s New Groove” or “Diet Coke is how they administer chemotherapy orally”. I’ll blame it on my brain not being fully developed until 25 (the only positive of this ghastly age, although it’s not that positive because I can’t blame my ineptitude on my brain anymore), but when people would tell me these things, I would wave it off. That stuff happens to old people. I think I even used to say, “I’d rather look good while I’m young and have skin cancer when I’m older than be pale”. *Gritted-teeth emoji* That’s just the narcissistic version of YOLO, right? My parents really should have given me a good slap every now and then. But now that I’m 25, I’m scared as hell. I’m positive that I’ll pay for my recklessness and disregard for my health pretty soon, so I’m trying to reverse all the damage I’ve already done*. I’ve even started another stint of working out and eating clean. I’m hoping this time it will stick, because Billy and I both feel like we would be the first to go in a zombie apocalypse because of our sitting-at-a-desk-all-day muscles. Or lack thereof. 

I’m in the worst shape that I’ve ever been in. I tried to hike a mountain with a bunch of the wives down here. I think it’s a 4-mile round trip hike (that’s probably being generous) and I gave up. There were 3 girls with 6-month olds strapped to their chests that did the whole thing. Mind you, the hike was pretty steep, I hadn’t worked out for 2 months for medical reasons and we were going at a very fast pace--I’m more of a hike 2 minutes, rest for 10 kind of girl. But I can’t get over the fact that I actually quit. I’m 25 years old and if I had to run up that mountain to avoid a tsunami, I would die. My ancestors and Charles Darwin would be ashamed. (Just so you don't think I've entirely let myself go, mangoes are back in season and it's all I eat now. My colon is very happy!)

Going to town on a mango. This is why no one ever wanted a second date with me.

I guarantee you I will not live until I’m 100, so I’m more than ¼ of the way through my life. Which is beyond scary. When I got married at 3 weeks shy of 21(yes, that means 20), I figured I might as well start popping out children before I turn 26. Why 26, you ask? It is the magical age that Obama designated when I get booted off my parents’ health insurance. The goal was to have at least 2 kiddos by now so I could get my parents’ money’s worth of prenatal and maternity care. However, my fallopian tubes have quite the sense of humor.  Since I’ll definitely be 26 and childless, I’m back to being a student again while fighting off wrinkles, sun damage, and obesity. Did I mention I live on a Caribbean island where the sun is always shining, and it’s too hot to run outside? Every outside yoga class is Bikram whether you want it to be or not. Even swimming laps in the ocean (water temperature is an average of 80.6º F) could give you heatstroke. So, these self-improvement plans might also be on hold until we’re back in the states. But I always feel better knowing that Billy is turning 30 next year. Because if I think 25 is bad, I know 30 is going to be miserable. I feel so lucky to have Billy and his receding hairline to put things into perspective.

*I wrote this post yesterday, and then today, I played beach volleyball and went swimming. And got super burnt in the process (pictured below). So, probably don't ever listen to anything I ever say. I'm not to be trusted. BUT NOTICE THE FOREHEAD WRINKLES!!!!

            

It's Go Time

The dreams have started. The ones where we show up to Grenada and our apartment isn't ready and we forgot to bring all of our luggage with us. My heart is going off like a machine gun just thinking about it. It would seem that my biggest fear is being unprepared. And I wasn't even a Girl Scout! Or is that only Boy Scouts that are prepared? I really do love Girl Scout cookies though. 

Regardless, I am a nervous wreck over moving to a different country. Not that I’m pooping my pants out of terror (although there is a little bit of that going on), I just find myself making so many lists of what needs to be packed/stored/donated and as soon as I cross something off, 2 more items pop up in its place. This was supposed to be simple when we limited ourselves to 6 suitcases. Instead, I wake up screaming and sweating and wondering whether we should bring our golf clubs or not. I mean, I realize that these are the decisions that make the world go round, but it’s a little excessive.  And then I get too overwhelmed and just end up going to the pool. You see my dilemma? I worry and stress and worry and can’t handle the worry, so I go have fun and then I have more to worry about.

The good news is, we sold both of our cars. The bad news is, we no longer have any cars. Billy’s parents have graciously allowed us to use their truck until we move, so it really has worked out fine. Except when I try to park the truck in the Vivint parking lot.

I think that I’m probably worrying about all these tiny little details so that I get distracted from the real problem (are you surprised? I’m a psych major, dude). We are going to miss our family and friends so damn much. 2 years is a really long time. 2 years ago, I was listening to Taylor Switft’s “22” on repeat and trying to relate, although I didn't have that much in common with it because I got married at 20, and so the song was more appropriately tied to when I was 17-19.  But, I digress. 

We had a taste of how our lives will be over the 4^th. None of our family was in town and we failed to plan our camping trip in time, so it was just the two of us at home. We went hiking up Rock Canyon and then realized that it was 99°and we are golfers--not hikers, so we went home and took a rather peaceful nap. We watched fireworks with some friends up in the foothills, which was amazing because aerial fireworks are now legal in Utah. And so, we were able to watch hundreds of firework shows all throughout the valley at once. I’m not just saying this because I work at Vivint, but Todd Pedersen’s fireworks smoked Carrie Underwood’s. No pun intended. It was a wonderful 4th, but just a little odd because I associate holidays with lots of family and golf and kids running around and trying to take a nap but it’s too noisy, so you’re pissed off, but it’s all wonderful because it’s your family! I guess we will have to get used to the quiet in this new phase of life.

Life is new and grand  and messy and loco and we'll be ready for it with our without our luggage. And here are some pictures from our 4th of July--sorry they are mostly selfies, remember how we were abandoned? 

Too hot to smile normally. We hid in a cave to try and scare people...but no one came by.

He just couldn't wait.

Diggin' the fireworks, while listening to "Firework". Thanks Katy.

Oh and some shots of our 15 minutes of fame. Or 2.7 seconds on TV. Our friend Bruce Pitcher was on ABC's show Extreme Weight Loss. He lost 201 pounds and dealt with some really crappy stuff that happened to him as a child. Watch his episode if you get a chance--truly inspirational. My only regret is that they caught my insanely huge mouth at its largest. Embarrassing.

Good Riddance to 2013

I hate the word resolution. 23 New Year’s eves have passed and not a single resolution of mine has become ingrained into my nature. They never last and it just gets too annoying and predictable that the gym is packed in January but dead in February. But I could really use some hope and optimism for this next year (2013 kind of kicked my ass), and so I came up with a few desires for the person I hope to become. And instead of calling them resolutions, I’m going to resolve to become this person. I don’t know why, but the word resolve seems much more hard core to me.

1. Don’t judge someone just because they sin differently than you. 

While I don’t consider myself a judgmental person, I am highly critical—especially of myself. I expect people to think the same way that I do and over-analyze every little detail of their behavior and conversation, and so when I try to justify the intentions behind other people’s actions, I can’t. Because they do not think the same way I do. While Billy and I were dating, he told me one of his favorite qualities of mine was how I wasn't judgmental and was always very accepting. I hate to admit it, but I was probably this way because I wasn't up to much good (subtle hint at my college party phase). But, when I started to turn my life around, it became easier to point a finger at other people and see what they were doing wrong compared to myself.  It’s a vicious cycle—when I’m in a good place spiritually, I become prideful and start to look down on those not doing the same thing as me. And then I feel guilty about being such an uppity bitch and my spirituality declines. So, one of my goals this year is to find a way to be healthy both spiritually and in my relationships. And to remember that everyone is trying their hardest and it is never my place to condemn someone else for how they are living their life. And in turn, I'd ask you to please try not to judge Billy and I for being so cool. Because I'm pretty sure that we used to be these gorillas in a past life. Our personalities are surprisingly similar.

2. “Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need.” –Fight Club

I get really excited to put on a new outfit I just bought. Like, it’s easier to get up in the morning because I’m so excited to wear said outfit. And it kind of makes me sad about myself. It’s gotten to the point where I probably have 2 new outfits every week. That’s 104 outfits a year! When I already have a perfectly acceptable wardrobe. Damn you, online shopping. It’s just so easy when they send me emails and all I have to do is pick my size and color and they deliver it to my door. It’s a shopping addicts dream. And anything over 30% off, I’m sold. Plus, I work with 15 babes who all have the cutest clothes and it’s just so hard. So, to curb my addiction I’m going on a shopping fast. I won’t be buying any articles of clothing/jewelry/accessories until springtime. Spring is a rather ambivalent term in Utah, so Billy helped me out by specifying that once the temperature is consistently 70°F I am allowed to purchase new clothes. So that means,it'll probably be more like July. Come Groundhog Day, I'm sure I’ll be praying my guts out that that little guy doesn't see his shadow. But seriously, I really want to use this fast to look at what I do have and to see how much I can live without. If I'm being honest, I don't always have to look like I came straight out of a magazine like I do below...I never realized how mean I look in everyday life.

I'll just have to stay away from any stores or computers--which is kind of tricky when you have an office job. 

But, it’ll be so nice to save some extra moolah. Now, I just need Billy to resolve not to eat out as much and we’ll be able to retire for sure.

3. Tori, did you hear what I just said? 

My Dad has come up with a rule that when he takes the family out to dinner, if any of us look at our phones at all, we will have to pay for everyone’s meal. I love it, because we have real conversations and our time together becomes so much more memorable. I don’t know why I have such a problem with looking at my phone. Some of my most memorable times are when I’m in Lake Powell and I don’t look at my phone for a whole week. It is seriously the best. But in everyday circumstances, I get bored for 30 seconds, and I whip out my phone to check my Instagram or Facebook. I’ll be honest, this was actually a resolution that Billy made for me. But I really do not want to be that person, and so I am resolving to not check my Facebook or Instagram after the hour of 5 PM. I get home from work everyday at 5, and I want that time to be spent with friends and family or even in some good ole selfish me time. My friend recently went to a forum with famous author and psychologist (and the reason I got interested in psychology) Malcolm Gladwell a few months ago. And Gladwell, in response to a question, said “My biggest fear is that we are afraid of our own thoughts. We have so many devices to keep us entertained and stimulated, that we don’t have enough time alone with our thoughts.” I’m paraphrasing, of course, but I really loved that he said that. It’s so good for mental health to just sit and ponder and reflect. So, my goal is to not rely on my phone as much and to make more memories, instead of ignoring the world that's happening all around me.

4. No more fad diets.

I’m probably never going to lose those 10 extra pounds I've gained since high school, unless I get giardia, so I’m going to focus on becoming stronger and eating a more balanced and healthy diet instead. When we get pregnant someday, I want my body to be healthy enough to nourish my baby. When we have a daughter, I don’t want her to see my bad example of constantly dieting and calling myself a fat ass. I want her to know she is beautiful because she is healthy and active, not because she is skinny. And I don’t want her to look at food and calories as her enemy. This is my way of preparing to become a mother.  

Also, kindly take note of this fat panda bear below who is eating bamboo. If all I ate all day was bamboo and other healthy crap that tastes like twigs, I would be the healthiest human being on earth, but I would still probably be curvy like this panda bear at the San Diego Zoo. And he is still just so dang adorable. I may have shed a tear or two when I saw him—that’s how happy he makes me.

I should also probably try to quit Diet Coke, but my goals should at least be a tiny bit realistic. And that will never really happen while working at Vivint (free fountain drinks 30 steps away from my desk is one of the many perks). But I will try to tone it down to only drinking one or two cups in the morning. And maybe I'll resolve to prepare myself to quit drinking in 2018. Yeah, that seems reasonable. I’m already getting headaches just thinking about it. And, I mean, look how happy I am while drinking the most delicious diet coke I've ever had at the Coke store in Vegas. 

And in case your resolution was to be smarter this year, just take a gander at these tweets.You'll feel smarter already. 

http://seriouslyforreal.com/funny/if-you-ever-feel-dumb-read-these-18-tweets/

I hope you all had a great Christmas break and have resolved to become your best version of yourself, or at least something better than your worst. Happy 2014!

Love Handles

You guys.

Something miraculous happened last night. Like truly amazing. I went to find some workout socks from my drawer and I was completely out. This has never happened to me. EVER. I try to do our laundry every 3 weeks (before you judge me, it’s called recycling old outfits. Look it up.) I know, I’m a disgusting person.

This lack of socks was so thrilling to me because it means that I have kept up with my new workout regime.

You see, I go through spurts of wanting to be healthy. I’ve learned to stop telling Billy when I quit carbs/sugar/gluten/meat. He has no faith in my resolve and so I’ve learned to blame him when these fads last for a week or two.  When we lived in Minnesota, I even went running every day  for about a month. Then, I was like “Wait, do I have to keep doing this forever?” And I chose to stop because that kind of commitment was way too overwhelming. I’ve got some deep psychological issues, I know.

Anyway, I have been running on the treadmill for about a month now with no plans of stopping. I’ve been doing the Couch to 5k program. It’s designed for fat pieces of crap like myself who never elevates her heart rate above 40 bpm. Each week, the routine changes and gradually gets harder. The idea is that it is way too hard on your body to just start running a few miles every day when you haven’t been exercising in ages. Running rookies named Tori will do this and then quit because it wears them out too much. So, by easing your body into it over 9 weeks, you will hopefully be able to like running instead of dread it. And to be able to run a 5k without collapsing. I HIGHLY recommend it. I have an app for it that keeps me on track. You can play your music on your phone and it will interrupt you to tell you when to start walking/jogging/cooling down.  The app is called C25K Free. Technology, man.

I’m really excited that I am strengthening my muscles and stamina (not that kind of stamina, pervs) and it has been making me eat healthier as a result. I’ll eat about a pound of candy (not an exaggeration) and then go running and it HURTS SO BAD. Halloween week, I literally thought I had ruptured a kidney. So, in order to make my run easier on myself, I’ll eat better. It’s a heavenly cycle. Time will only tell how long it’ll last.

While we’re on the topic of my ever-thickening arteries, what is the deal with marriage and my ever-thickening waistline? I swear, as soon as I said “I Do”, I gained 10 pounds. Does my body realize that I’m stuck with one person forever and immediately go into depressed, binge eating mode? I've heard many explanations for this phenomenon, but none of them make sense to me. I did not go on a wedding diet. We ate out the same amount before and after we were married (which is to say, every meal). I actually did way more exercise after we sealed the deal—if ya know what I mean. Seriously, it baffles me. They should do a research study on it. I would donate to that.

And now here are some pictures of me being super athletic. Circa 2009. Because no one wants to see me circa 2013.

Turkey Bowl 2009

Now I know why NFL players don't pose for their pictures. Awkward...

It would be a shame to all of mankind if we never have kids.

Have a good weekend errybody!