Tuesday, July 9, 2013


• I woke up this morning at 4:30 with three thoughts jockeying for priority—I hope I’m not still fat today. Gimme Jim. I need to order some vegan marshmallows.

• The cut watermelon I bought at Whole Foods for lunch was perfectly crisp and so sweet that I worried for a moment that someone had buried it in sugar before packaging.

• A dashing benefactor bestowed on me a FitBit Flex. It’s surprising how much that bit of rubber around my wrist motivates me to want to get off my ass. I’m not saying I actually do it, but I sure do think about it more. Well, and I have been maximizing inefficiency to get more steps in during the day. I’m already a stair-taker, and I skip the moving walkways at airports, but now I also park a couple buildings away from where I’m supposed to be; I forget stuff on purpose so I have to go back out to my car; I walk the longest route possible to get to my doctors’ offices. The more inefficient I am, the more I congratulate myself. 

• Yoga last night was incredibly difficult. Not because it was too hot. Not because I was dehydrated. Not because I ate to close to class. Not because the teacher was a punk. No, it was really damn hard because I had to look at myself in the mirror for 90 minutes. Sometimes that is the toughest part of a Bikram practice—you have to keep eyes on the product of your choices. It can be hell.

• One of the best moments in my life happened two years ago. I was up at Squaw Creek at Wanderlust. I was in a packed power yoga class. Yoga celeb Kathryn Budig was teaching. And her super snug red yoga pants revealed that she, Powerful Goddess of Upside Down, had cellulite on her thighs. It was a shining moment of equality that I’ll never forget.

• While going to and fro today I drove through a construction zone where I saw a worker taping a manhole covering into place. I’m pretty certain that’s what I saw. And I think that might be shoddy workmanship.

Drug reps are people too. I know it might be hard to believe, but it’s true. We have eyes and ears and everything. Why then do so many people think it’s appropriate to talk about us while we are mere feet away from them? It happens all. the. time. Patients in waiting rooms will discuss my shoes. They will discuss my size. They will comment on my bag. And very rarely will they do it to me. They talk about me. Nurses and medical assistants do it as well. Sometimes I turn my back to walk away and they immediately start in commenting on something about me. I have ears! I can hear you! It’s usually fine and kind and whatever, and I try to ignore it, but a couple weeks ago I stopped at a nurses station, chatted with the three gals there and then turned to make for the fridge to see how many of my samples they needed. The second I turned, one medical assistant, in a low but not low enough voice, said to another, “She has a fabulous personality.” It was a comment I was delighted to overhear. And then when I was leaving the office she said it to my face. “You have fabulous personality.” I thrive on compliments. I took it to heart. I immediately texted my boyfriend to let him know that I have a fabulous personality. 

No comments: