Bravo Nike

Nike, of course, has it right. "Just do it." Whoever came up with the slogan in that marketing office deserves some sort of all-star award for this all-encompassing idea. Every single effort we make in our lives boils down to this elemental statement.

Whenever I'm in the midst of a crisis, personal lapse, writer's block, weight creep or any other stall on a personal end, I commit myself to researching the problem and developing a solution. I'm just very proactive like that. The trouble is, sometimes I know the answer, I just don't act on it. I know exactly what will make my stress more manageable; I know exactly what to listen to when I need a creative jump-start; I know that tracking food always takes the weight off. Sometimes the ideas seem too simplistic to really work. Of course sitting out in nature dissipates stress, but sometimes I'm just too bummed to get out from under the covers when I've convinced myself nothing will work anyway. Now, I'm a pretty resourceful and self-motivated person in some areas, but sometimes it all boils down to just doing it.

I've always had an immense desire for change, a raging internal drive to take myself to the next level in my profession, hobbies and relationships. I take grueling effort to research, list, calculate and produce solutions for everyday problems. Perhaps a publishing prize would be within reach if I actually sat down to write. Perhaps my PR for running would get better if I stuck to a training plan and ate only Running World-worthy food.

It's all a matter of just doing it.

You've Got Male

Will someone please explain to me the expectations of a man? Wow, loaded question. I have little understanding of that psyche that at once believes a woman should be the traditional nurturer and caretaker at the same time as she should also be the modern working woman. I enjoy my work and could never be a full-time, stay-at-home mom. That's just me. However, after days filled with meetings, deadlines, sales tactics and problem-solving, I revel in the chance to head out the door to the arms of my babbling bundle. I do not, however, enjoy the thought of plundering through an overflowing sink, curing grime-tinted floors, and reviving carpet from cat puke. But somehow, those roles have been delegated to me.

I understand the deep-seated desire for the traditional home cooked meal and clean house. I too enjoy the aroma of simmering stew and all those other smells that enveloped the childhood home. I just don't want to be the one who has to don the apron and create them. The magic disappears. The crumbs left over turn me into a grump and the dishes...oh, the dishes.

I have this theory that boys just don't see things like crumbs on the carpet and dog spit on the walls, which gets them out of cleaning them up. They've been programmed to "miss" the growing piles of envelopes, dust bunnies and weeds. Am I the only one in this house who ever picks up around here? Picks up what, dear? Alas, I give up.

It seems that the expectations we have of women are soaring while the expectations we have of men remain largely the same. While I believe wholeheartedly in equality, it is now increasingly difficult for a woman to catch a break while men are resting their feet on our polished living room tables.

Don't even get me started on the classic argument about how I work in an office and he works in a factory so therefore I should do more grunt work at home. Is my time put in worth nothing? Is kicking ass to put myself through college all on my own (and coming out with $0 debt, thank you very much) not enough to warrant me a little bit of respect and rest? Honey, you could've done what I did too and you wouldn't be working in the factory today, now would you?

After all the child-rearing, grocery shopping, interior decorating, itinerary making, snot chasing, budget writing, order taking, nursery-rhyme singing and full-time working, the modern woman sometimes wants to feel taken care of, after so long bearing the responsibility of "caring-for."

Bad Eating Habits

There was a time when I had breakfast (um, pregnancy), a snack at 9am, a snack at 11am, lunch, a snack at 3pm, maybe another snack at home, and dinner. Wow! And I really didn't think much of it, but in writing that sounds like a train wreck. The thing was, I'd have an apple or banana for morning snacks and a granola bar in the afternoon. It didn't seem harmful. Once I got to adding up all those noshes though, I was amazed. How could fruit be sabotaging my diet? Well, it wasn't.

It was all those extra little bites of things here and there. I'd get home and grab a stack of Pringles and then grab a few more (because once you pop...). Dinner would consist of a pile of meat and plenty of sides. I'd sometimes drink several glasses of milk with meals. And all meals were topped off with at least a little bit of sugar for dessert. This all added up to way too much.

I started slowly, removing a snack here and there until I was comfortable enough to go between breakfast and lunch, and lunch and quitting time, without snacks. Then, I added those apples and bananas to my meals so my plate was more full of healthy fare instead of things like fries. I eliminated most of my liquid calories except for about two glasses of lowfat milk per day. That was the trick!

It's difficult though to remove all those snacks once you've gotten used to eating them every day. But that's the thing! The only reason I ate all those snacks was because I was used to them. I'm not famished in between meals now and I still snack when I'm feeling a little too hungry, but the desire for those constant snacks disappeared once I got used to not having them. Now, tea and gum keep my taste buds satisfied when I feel like I just need something in my mouth, not necessarily nourishment. It can be smart to spread 3 meals into 5 smaller ones throughout the day for some people, but it's crucial to keep those portions pared way down and not let all that snacking get out of control.

Breast Cancer Care Package

In an unfortunate turn of events, two of my dear friends are undergoing treatments for breast cancer at the exact same time. From an outsider's point of view, it is difficult to know what to say, offer, or do in times like this. Some friends drop off the planet because they don't know how to approach a sick person. I strive to not be one of those "friends". I want to offer as much support as I can from my position. I've done some research and soul-searching and come up with a few ideas for care packages that I thought would come in handy for someone going through a double mastectomy or even any medical treatment:

1. Lipstick, perhaps along with a copy of "Why I Wore Lipstick to my Mastectomy." I remember reading a clip from this book in a magazine, celebrating femininity and encouraging a sense of hope in anyone fighting this disease. Once a woman begins wearing lipstick again, she's on the road to recovery.

2. Nail polish, neck scarf or bold jewelry. Same principles as above apply. A woman is a woman no matter if her breasts are attached or not. She can still celebrate her inner and outer beauty in other ways. Let your loved one know that her beauty and value as a woman is most definitely not attached to her chest.

3. Form pillow. Women going through painful treatments can use as much creature comforts and padding as you can give them.

4. Cashmere socks (or socks infused with aloe like I found). Keeps her extremities warm and pampered at the same time.

5. Handheld games, magazines, and other reading material. This sort of thing helps pass the time and entertain her when she's in another waiting room or receiving treatments.

6. I found a book called something to the effect of "200 Foods That Will Save Your Life." You have to be careful with this one. You don't want to insult your dear friend or violate any diets her health care provider has recommended. But if she's talking about overhauling her diet and lifestyle, something to help her along in the process is always appreciated. This book explained each superfood's health benefits and provided a recipe for each.

7. Journal. Whether she wants to vent, hope, or write letters to her children, a journal provides a woman with a wonderful creative outlet.

8. Daily devotion book. You have to be careful with this one too because of varying religious beliefs, but if you know your friend's beliefs, this sort of spiritual reassurance can help heal her soul and instill her with a sense of peace.

9. Comedic relief. A comic book, funny movie, or handcrafted book of goofy pictures helps revive joy in an otherwise morose circumstance. Laughter truly is medicine. I've even read studies about laughter and how it reduces pain and helps the healing process.

10. Hot/cold pack. I found a nice pack that can be both heated up and frozen for whatever sort of relief she needs.

11. If she's up for it and you can manage it, one of the best things you can do is just to be there for her. Provide moral support during treatments, lighten her load, provide her and her family with dinner, or stop by and hold her hand for awhile. It's always reassuring to know you have people who love you and want to take care of you.

12. A cancer buddy/weapon/curer. Find a trinket that reminds you of your friend. Maybe a healing stone, a plush stuffed lion or a fake sword that she can bring with her to the hospital. There should be some significance attached to the object of course, such as a "cancer weapon" sword, so that your friend is not only reminded of the love of her friends each time she sees it but also gives her courage in her fight.

13. False eyelashes and nails. Chemo treatments can leave a woman without eyelashes and healthy fingernails, and a woman always loves to feel gussied up and pampered.

14. Do a 5k in her name. Find a race in your area that benefits cancer research and scout out donations. Progressing the search for a cure has to be one of the most productive ways you can help your friend (and the rest of humanity that faces cancer risk).

New Take On MBT Shoes

I just love to find new and improved ways to workout or ways to make working out more efficient and fun. Today, in my Daily Candy newsletter, I found a video clip of these fun shoes that look like a cross between Rollerblades and mini trampolines. They're called kangoo jumps. Basically, when you're taking a jog, these boots take the bulk of the stress off your joints while giving you a great workout. They literally put a bounce in your step. The price tag is a little high for me, but if I could rent them or something, I certainly would give them a try. Looks like the contraptions elicit a lot of gawking as well.

Vintage Stealers

Does anyone else feel a little bit ripped off when people sell "handpicked vintage" items? I guess in a way, it makes a little bit of sense. The "pickers" find labels and styles that are highly saleable and buyers don't have to do the dirty picking work. However, for people like me, with little cash to spare and a love of all things thrift, it seems like stealing to buy a $1.00 dress at the thrift store and turn around and sell it for $30.00 in a boutique. My potential to buy and recycle an old piece of clothing is now gone and I'm looking at price tags that rival brand new clothes with vintage-inspired designs.

I see this quite often now on ebay, Etsy, and those little vintage boutiques that are popping up everywhere. A vintage designer label or valuable antique is a whole different story--they deserve a little more respect and reverence. But cute handmade skirts, children's storybooks and quirky glass cups, please don't take them out of the reach of the rest of the recession-strapped population. We would love them!

How to be Popular

Remember those agonizing days growing up when you wanted so bad to be part of the "in-crowd" you practically researched how to be cool? It even physically hurts to write that. With my nerd flag flying high, I checked out books at the library with titles like "The Popularity Plan" and "How to be a Star." The first was actually a novel, the second was a book about acting with pictures of Fred Savage on the front. Oh boy! Of course none of those ideas worked, and probably made me even more of the brunt of jokes than anything.

There was one summer when my biggest dreams came true and the popular girl invited my best friend and I to her house for a sleepover. Just us. Just the two girls that were endlessly mocked and outcast and left out. But, to our defense, we were also the two smart girls. Witty, observant, and persevering. Finally, it seemed as though our perseverance to be cool had paid off. We spent the entire summer with this girl. We would stay at each others' houses for weeks at a time, go shopping together and explore local attractions. We practically studied this girl's movements, clothing choices, and body language. We finally thought we would be actresses in our own movie where the unpopular get magically transformed into the most admired. Finally, all of our tireless work to become cool had paid off.

Once we went back to school in the fall though, the pressure of being friends with us was put to the test and ultimately the friendship went sour. Little things that we did at each others' houses became ammunition for mockery. I once used the girl's dandruff shampoo because that was all that was in her shower. So, the other kids tortured me for non-existent dandruff. I was shell-shocked. We thought we were bonding. We thought we were going to be cool kids. We thought we had finally elbowed our way to the top only to come crashing down further than we ever had before. Now our private secrets, something that were sacred and secret before, were now in the most vulnerable of positions.

I still have dreams every now and then about being the most hated girl in school. Sometimes it's powerful enough to even put a damper on my adult self-esteem. And sometimes incidents at work or in my social life bring those feelings back up to the surface. It sort of brings fear for my son to the surface too, although I'm pretty sure Catholic school girls are much more cutthroat than public school boys.

Next year there will be a 10-year high school reunion. I'm not sure whether I will go or not, but I do know that I am very proud of how far I've come since those agonizing school daze...I mean days.